Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
I fight with the need to go rip him from the asshole’s hands. Before I can make my mind up on what to do, Rock calls out to me.
“I’m ready!” he yells. I turn to face him as he takes a big bite of a sandwich he has gripped in his hand.
I grunt in reply. I look back across the street to find the woman, but she’s already gone. Disappointment fills me. I shake my head. I don’t have time for a woman. Besides, if the dickweed in a suit is any indication, I’m definitely not the woman’s type. For some reason, that pisses me off.
I settle myself back on my bike and start it up. It takes Rock a few minutes, but I hear the racking of his pipes a little later. I look over at him as he hoovers down the remains of his food. He’s got a bottle of water that he takes a swig of before putting it into his cupholder. I pull out of the small, graveled parking lot and Rock is right beside me.
We drive for about twenty minutes. I can’t find anything out of the ordinary. We’re on US-74 and I’m frustrated as hell. I don’t even know if we should have turned onto this road. We’re kind of flying blind. We only decided to check out Bryson City after some reports the Saint’s Outlaws had received stating that the Feral Kings had been staying in this area often in the last few months. I’m about to suggest we choose another route—beginning our trek to Rutledge, which is where everyone figured these idiots would go. Before I can get the words out, I hear Rock scream out. It’s so loud, I hear it over the roar of my bike. I watch as his bike bobs and weaves out of control. Rock is trying to hold on to it, but I can see a sea of red blood out over the bottom half of his cut. What the fuck? Was he shot? Rock careens into a guardrail, the bike crashes down and Rock’s body flies in the air and doesn’t stop until his body crashes into a tree.
I take my bike to the side of the road, then use my foot to put the kickstand down. I jump off as shots ring in the air again and draw my weapon while looking around. I don’t see anyone. It has to be a fucking sniper. If not that, then the shooter is disguised damn good. I look for anything out of the normal—something that doesn’t fit the forest background that we’re surrounded by. That’s when I see a glint coming about thirty yards out, hidden behind a huge oak tree. I shoot in that direction, but I feel the minute a bullet rips through my body. It enters just below my left shoulder and the pain is white-hot and so intense that it robs me of breath. I shoot through the pain, hoping to kill the fucker that just shot me. I scrunch down behind my bike, my heart pounding away with me. I’m feeling woozy, but I fight it off. I can’t afford to pass out right now. I continue to shoot, thinking that I hit my target at least once. Unfortunately, someone else has joined in the gunfire. This guy is on the other side of me. I feel another bullet hit me and I’m thinking I should have worn one of those fancy Kevlar cuts that Dragon ordered. It feels too damn bulky for me, so I passed. Suddenly, I’m wishing I had done as asked. I’m in the middle of nowhere. I’m pretty sure Rock is already dead and hell, I know I’m currently living on borrowed time. Even now, the world is starting to turn black.
I struggle, trying to hold on, but my eyes begin blinking as they grow heavier. “Fuck,” I hiss, wishing I could talk to my sisters and parents one last time. Shockingly, an image of the gorgeous blonde from earlier comes to mind. If I have one regret, it’s not tasting her beautiful lips at least once.
With that thought, I give in to the darkness. I can’t fight it. I fall to the hard, unforgiving ground.
Of all the ways I thought I’d buy it, I didn’t think it’d be like this—all alone on a fucking road that I don’t even know. I wait, figuring I’d lose consciousness. Everything is still dark because I can’t make my eyes open. My heartbeat is slower and erratic. Death is coming. I didn’t even know you could be dizzy when you weren’t able to open your eyes, but I am. The shots have stopped now. Unfortunately, I can hear at least two people approaching.
“Are they dead?” one asks. Someone delivers a kick to my stomach. I can’t even groan with the pain. I don’t have the energy to speak. My legs feel like, damn, two-hundred-pound weights.