Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
“Yeah, he could do that,” my father agreed, reaching for his phone and shooting off a text.
“Then we run in and take advantage of their distraction. Did you guys bring—“ I started, then saw them reaching for their guns.
“Alright,” I said, reaching for mine and the extra magazines. “Stay put,” I told Barry, who gave me a nervous nod.
The three of us climbed out of the SUV in unison, my father moving around the car to stand with us on the sidewalk.
“Yo, you planning on having fun without me?” another voice asked, making me turn to find Jackson’s father, Paine, walking up. And, yeah, that was his legal name.
Like I was practically a carbon copy of my old man, Jackson was practically the same of Paine. “What? We dressing up for rescue missions now?” Paine asked, grabbing Jackson by the back of the neck in greeting. “Shoot up there?” he asked, nodding toward the closest building.
“Yep,” my father said.
“So, he’s the distraction, so we can go in?” he asked.
“That’s the plan,” I agreed.
“Any idea the numbers?”
“Five were at my place. Dunno how many more there are.”
“Should be a good time,” my father said as Paine pulled out a gun.
“Don’t worry,” Paine said when my father looked at him. “I got more. I remember these days too.”
“Okay,” I said, nodding. “Give Uncle Johnnie the go ahead,” I said. “Then we run.”
I sucked in a deep breath and rolled my neck.
The shots rang out.
And we ran.
To Shale.
And whatever fate that lay in front of us.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Shale
It was all just a blur.
I never expected, after the drive-by at my cafe that I would be anything close to brave in another similar situation.
Though to be fair, I never expected something like that to happen again. Least of all so soon.
I guess what made me react that way was the fact that it was Junior who was in trouble. It was Junior who was outside. Where the bullets were.
Was going out there unarmed completely freaking stupid?
Sure.
But I hadn’t been thinking straight.
I’d just been worried about him.
I maybe expected bullets to slice into me, to give me an idea of the kind of pain Barry had felt after the drive-by.
I hadn’t thought that hands would reach out, grab me, and start pulling me away.
Away from the apartment.
But more importantly, away from the exposed and outnumbered Junior.
I was screaming his name when I saw someone grab the tire iron out of his own SUV and slam it down on the back of his head.
The hand slapped over my mouth as he fell.
Then I was dragged into the back of a darkened SUV, the door was slammed, and we were speeding off.
My heart was hammering in my throat so hard that I felt like I was gagging on it as the SUV took a corner so fast it went up on the curb for a moment.
But all I could think about was Junior.
Unconscious on the ground.
Defenseless.
Would they hurt him more?
Would they kill him?
My stomach dropped and twisted at the idea of him being hurt or killed because of me, because of the mess I’d gotten myself mixed up in.
Maybe I’d fucked this up from the very beginning.
Maybe I should have gone to the police after the first drop.
Surely, they wouldn’t have arrested me for that.
It was only after I made myself a continual participant in drug trafficking that they would have happily locked me up and thrown away the key.
It was too late for those worries now, though.
Now, all I could do was pray that Junior was okay, that maybe Barry had gotten to him, and seen to his wounds. And that my own death was relatively quick. Hoping for painless seemed impossible, but quick seemed attainable as the car sped around a few more corners before hitting the highway and slowing down.
I suppressed a grumble, knowing that the cops were parked all up and down the highway, trying to catch speeders and red-light-runners. These guys must have known that, though, because they made sure they obeyed the speed, the lights, and even the stop signs as we drove.
The man with his hand over my face also had his arm around my waist, the pressure so tight that I was sure I would bruise.
Not that bruising would matter.
Except maybe to the medical examiner. If they ever even found my body.
The men in the car were eerily silent, so all I heard was the whoosh of blood in my ears and my ragged breath against the hand covering my mouth and part of my nose.
The SUV pulled into a wide, empty lot set back a bit from the highway, the pavement cracked, the parking space lines nearly nonexistent. The woods behind and to the sides of it created a certain amount of privacy, and the fact that the building was a bit dilapidated made me assume these guys were just squatting here temporarily.