Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
His men surround us, funneling toward an exit but taking a quick right before reaching the security guard at the ticket gate.
“I have to take my grandma home,” I say less confidently.
Archer ignores me, his grip on my wrist feeling just as unforgiving as his grip was on my leg. We pass a tent, a row of portable toilets, and a gravel area filled with RVs before cutting toward an alley with two SUVs.
While my heart pounds, my mind plays the reasoning game again. It’s just my body. He can do whatever he wants. My mind will let go. I’ll let it float away from my body.
Relax.
Relax.
Rel—
I gasp when the men around us drop to the ground like dominos in a series of thumps and cracking sounds.
“Run!” Archer jerks my arm in the direction we came as the last man standing behind him puts himself between Archer and the lifeless men on the ground.
I stumble to my hands and knees at the sudden change in direction.
“Iris!” Archer tries to turn back, but his last security guard shoves him to keep going.
I don’t run. I can’t. My body shakes, but I can’t move. I can only wait on my skinned-up hands and knees for something.
A bullet in my back?
Each breath pulses out of my nose as tears fill my eyes. When the first tear hits the dirt, I inch my gaze behind me.
There are three men—blood pooling around their heads.
I choke on a sob as the thud of heavy boots in the dirt treads toward me. Pinching my eyes shut, I pray.
“Let’s go.” It’s Jack’s voice.
I slowly open my eyes, but I’m still paralyzed, my ears ringing and my heart pounding. He’s the color of night. Black-painted face. Black beanie. Black shirt, pants, and boots.
“Who …” I flip over, scooting away from him. My feet skid on the gravel while my hands keep propelling me backward. “Who a-are you?” I shake my head repeatedly, trying to distance myself from him and the dead men.
He holds out his hand. “We have to go.”
I continue to shake my head while trying and failing to get my footing to stand on shaky legs. “Don’t touch me!” My gaze flits to the dead men on the ground. “You … you killed them!”
He shoves a gun into the back of his pants. That’s when I notice he has a bigger gun hanging from a strap over his shoulder. “Look at me.”
I can’t. There’s too much blood pooling around their heads.
“Look. At. Me.” He squats in front of me and grabs my face. “I’m not going to hurt you. But we have to get out of here right now.”
“Who are you?” My unblinking gaze meets his. This isn’t happening. I’m a music professor. My idea of revenge involves public embarrassment and exposing affairs. This is not the same thing.
“Tonight, I am your savior. Let’s go.” He pulls me to my feet, but the second I look at the dead men again, I stumble, and nausea twists my stomach into tight knots.
When I can’t tear my gaze away from the bullet holes in the men’s heads and their dead eyes pointed at the night sky, Jack scoops me into his arms. He treks out of the alley and tucks me in the back seat of his car. Seconds later, he floors it before I can sit up straight or catch my breath.
I don’t move for miles. I remain on my side, staring through blurry tears at the back of his seat. Jack doesn’t say a word.
“Don’t blame me.”
“For what?”
“For being right.”
My hands cover my face, and I shake uncontrollably. Eventually, I realize we’ve been on the road too long. We’re not going to Boone. I try to sit up, but my body won’t cooperate. If I move, then this is real. And right now, I need it to be a nightmare from which I can awaken.
I want my life back.
My family.
Maybe even the job I lost.
When the car stops, Jack opens the back door. “Get out.”
I don’t move. “You were right,” I whisper.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to be right.” He plucks me from the car and carries me to a room at a rundown motel.
It reeks, and it’s stuffy like there’s no air conditioning. Jack sets me on the edge of the bed. Then he closes the door and the blinds before tossing the room key (an actual metal key) on the nightstand.
Slowly, he hunches in front of me. “Are you okay?”
I shake my head. “W-what just h-happened?”
“I saved you from yourself.”
My hands shake, so I ball them into fists, but they still tremble. “Why are we here?” I whisper.
“I don’t know if we can go back to Eloise’s. I’m on Archer’s radar now. And you can’t go back either. You can’t go home. Not until I finish this.”