Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 165476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 827(@200wpm)___ 662(@250wpm)___ 552(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 165476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 827(@200wpm)___ 662(@250wpm)___ 552(@300wpm)
Cole uttered a broken sound, waving one hand through the air, but his weight had already shifted and pulled him to the edge. Ned didn’t think when he leapt forward and grabbed Cole’s hand. With his foot against the track, he prayed to any God that would listen to keep them from toppling into the abyss.
For a split second, Ned’s mind was filled with images of Cole stumbling past the edge, his body dropping into the water that would carry him away like a human-sized doll. A corpse. But in real life, the bag of dynamite plunged off the bridge instead, and Cole fell into Ned’s arms, clutching at his clothes as they both collapsed to their knees between the tracks.
Ned couldn’t catch his breath, squeezing Cole to him as if that were the only way to stay alive. If he kept his eyes closed, he could pretend for a moment longer that they weren’t in the middle of a bridge. A hawk squawked above them as if asking what they were doing so high up, but all Ned could think of was that Cole was safe. With his eyes closed and only the wind to watch him, Ned pondered the way Cole’s form—strong and wiry, with a hard chest—fit into his arms. He was as tall as Ned and quick with his gun, but now curled against Ned like a kitten.
“Shit… I can’t swim, I’d have drowned if I fell,” Cole uttered, struggling to even out his breath.
Ned forced his eyes open, but hugging Cole felt too pleasant to deny it to himself for a moment longer. Was he really this starved of human companionship?
“Or died on the spot, you beef-head! You survived by the skin of your teeth!” Ned clutched the back of Cole’s duster harder.
Cole exhaled, uttering a raspy laugh when he looked up, the hat comically crooked on his head, but still there. “I think I owe you a drink for saving my life anyhow.”
Ned pulled away when holding him didn’t seem appropriate anymore and wiped sweat off his face. “Like hell you do. Let’s get off this deathtrap and have one at the camp.”
Cole rolled his eyes, undeterred by his brush with death. “We’re here for a reason. Let’s do the job fi…” His voice trailed off, and he stared at his empty hands, then dashed to the edge of the track, prompting Ned to grab at his clothes again. But Cole still looked down, into the mouth that had almost swallowed him up moments before, and roared. “It’s gone. Goddamn it! It’s gone!”
At least Ned couldn’t be blamed for malicious intent, because it was Cole who dropped the sticks. A dark satisfaction curled in his stomach as he patted himself on the back for a job well done.
“It’s your fault! You made me drop it!” Cole yelled, making Ned sit up in attention.
“I didn’t do shit.”
“You made me wrestle you for it!”
Ned slowly got up despite his whole body screaming that staying on hands and knees was safer. But before he could have straightened his back to tower above a sitting Cole, the crazy man rammed into him with all the strength he had and knocked them both back onto the wooden planks between the tracks. The bridge gave a cry, as if the impact of their fall had destabilized its structure, but Ned didn’t have the time to worry about it collapsing under them like a house of cards. Cole’s fist collided with his chin so hard his teeth cut through the tip of his tongue, filling his mouth with blood.
“You wrecked the plan!”
“I just saved your life!” Ned slurred in fury, rolling his head to avoid another hit. The last thing he needed was his cheek splitting open again.
He grabbed Cole’s fist with one hand and pushed on his waist with the other, to topple the bastard over. He hadn’t intended to lose the dynamite, but sure as hell was he glad that it sank to the bottom of the river. The innocents were now safe.
Cole’s body was like that of a snake, and twisted in Ned’s grasp. Ned had no idea how, but despite the superior size of his arms, his attempt to remain on top failed. Cole managed to pull them both up, only to press Ned down with the force of a fox breaking ice with its front legs. The impact knocked the air out of Ned, and when he looked into the flushed face above, the cold track dug into his nape like the hardest of pillows.
“All the men are coming here for this. What the hell are we gonna tell ’em, huh? What are we gonna tell Tom?” Cole roared and pushed Ned’s wrists against the planks with all the strength he had.
“Tell ‘em the truth!” Ned spat, pushing at Cole’s face. “That you were prancing around on the bridge like a ballerina and dropped the dynamite!”