Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 73192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
I nodded. “Yes.”
“How do you know?” he pushed, wanting confirmation.
I gestured to the lower half of the door. “The wires. Right there.”
Johnny lowered the binoculars and whistled. “Fuck.”
“Then what do we do with it?” Rodriguez asked, sounding disheartened.
I didn’t know.
The closest bomb squad was in Bear Bottom of all places and that was at least an hour away and that was being generous. More like an hour and twenty minutes realistically. The squad would have to get to the station—which would take at least fifteen minutes for all individuals since the bomb squad itself was made up of about eighteen officers from eight police stations within the immediate vicinity. Longview, Kilgore, Bear Bottom, Lone Star, Gun Barrel, Hawkins, Waskom, and Hallsville. And fifteen minutes was just an average time. Some it might take upwards of twenty to thirty—if they were at their stations.
“I called the bomb squad in Bear Bottom,” I said softly. “And now we…”
A vehicle pulled up and my anger started to get the best of me.
“Who the fuck is supposed to be doing traffic control?” I snarled at Johnny.
Johnny’s eyes were pinned on the car, though.
“Chief,” he whispered. “Look.”
I did and saw the last thing I ever thought I’d see getting out of the car.
Dusty and Reagan.
Son. Of. A. Bitch.
Reagan was crying fat tears as she stared at me from across the distance and everything inside of me screamed to go to her.
But I stayed still, certain in the knowledge that if I made even a single step in her direction, I wouldn’t like the consequences.
“Well, hey there, Hostel’s finest! How’s it going?” Dusty drawled over the hood of his car.
Reagan’s eyes stayed downcast and that was how I knew that whatever the hell was going on, she wasn’t there by choice.
“Can I shoot him?” Johnny whispered.
My hand clenched with the need to have my gun in my hand.
“Dusty Rhymes,” I said, my voice coming out calm and even. “Please, tell me why the fuck you’re here…with my fiancée?”
Dusty stiffened and looked over at the back of Reagan’s head.
“I don’t see a ring on her finger,” Dusty said. “But it won’t matter. By the end of the day, we’re going to be married, so that’ll cancel out your ‘fiancée’ status.”
I felt something deep in my gut start to burn.
That was when Reagan lifted her eyes and her gaze met mine.
What I saw was not something that was calm and collected. What I saw was the rage of an inferno boiling deep below the surface.
Her eyes pleaded with me to fix the place she found herself in and I wanted to. Oh God, did I want to.
I took a step forward almost as if I was being forced to and Dusty lifted his hand. “Take a single step more toward us and I’m blowing this hell hole sky high.”
I froze, seeing what looked like a crappy cell phone that was one of those ones that you bought at the grocery store—a pay as you go phone.
“Now that I have your attention,” he said. “We’ll be leaving. I just wanted you to know who this came courtesy of.” He paused as he started to drop into his truck. “If you try to stop us, I’ll blow it. If you try to open those doors to disarm it, it’ll blow…good luck!”
With that, he dropped in the car, but I didn’t move because Reagan’s eyes were still locked on mine.
She watched me steadily, her eyes so full and filled with anger that I ached to hold her in my arms. To tell her everything was going to be okay.
Only problem was that I couldn’t promise her that. How could I choose?
If I went after her, the bomb blew and who knew how many people would die.
If I stayed, the love of my life was going to have to be in the arms of that madman.
I saw her shoulders straighten and resolve steel her spine.
She mouthed ‘I love you’ at me and then got into the car and didn’t look back.
The moment that she pulled out of the parking lot, I had my cell phone in my hand.
Once I relayed what was happening to Bennett, I hung up and made another call.
“I need a tow truck here in about three minutes,” I ordered Rafe.
Rafe didn’t argue.
The moment that he hung up, I placed a third call, this one to Parker.
“Whatever you need, man,” Parker said once I’d told him what happened.
“I need you to follow them,” I said. “Keep an eye on them, but don’t get made. He’s got the fuckin’ remote detonator to a bomb that’s smack dab in the middle of the town’s epicenter.”
The fourth and final call came moments later just as Rafe was pulling into the driveway.
I swallowed as the phone connected.
“Yo,” Coke said. “What up, cop boy?”
I didn’t beat around the bush. “I need to borrow your place…and I need you to be prepared for anything. And…get the fuck out. Just keep the gates open.”