Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 66859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Then, I go out the back door of the warehouse and around the side to watch the guards.
As predicted, they head inside to check on me.
I have a matter of minutes, if I’m lucky, to get down the driveway.
The second they’re out of sight, I run. I run my little heart out, even though it hurts like hell to do so. I reach the front fence and undo it, powering down the long dirt road like I’m a god damned Olympic runner.
When I’m far enough down, I trail off into the bushes where I’ll stay until I hit the road. Once there, I’ll catch a ride and get the hell out of this place until I can meet Dane.
The sounds of cars speeding down the driveway alert me to the fact that someone is clearly on their way to find me. I keep myself hidden as I move closer to the road. They’re not stupid and they know I’m on foot so it won’t take them long to figure out that I can’t get far. I pick up the pace, getting closer and closer to the road with every passing second.
I finally reach it, and it’s dead quiet. Not a car in sight. That has something to do with the fact that this place is way out of town and very secluded. Nobody just drives past here, but a few miles up, the main road can be found and if I can reach that, I’ll easily get a ride. It’s just getting to it that’s the problem. I pick up my pace into a jog again, cursing that I’m so incredibly unfit.
I make it halfway when out of nowhere, someone steps out from the thick bushes lining the road.
I squeal and leap backward.
Beckett stand with his arms crossed, his eyes locked on mine.
“Hello Pop-Tart, you didn’t think we were that stupid, did you?”
Oh, shit.
Shit.
Shit.
Shit.
“LET ME GO!” I SPIT, squirming as Beckett drags me to his very-well-hidden truck on the side of the road.
I didn’t see it.
I didn’t see him.
He’s smart, smarter than I had anticipated.
I was so damned close.
So close.
He strong holds me into the car where Riggs and Remy are both sitting. Remy gives me a look that tells me he’s sorry for what he’s about to do as he leans over and snaps some cuffs on my wrist.
“Remy,” I say, eyes wide. “I thought we were friends.”
“Club business, sorry.”
“You had your penis in me only a few days ago,” I whisper-hiss.
Riggs glares at Remy.
I guess he didn’t know that.
Remy glances out the window.
“I thought you were better than that,” I say, huffing as I watch Beckett climb into the truck.
“What’s the plan now?” Riggs asks him.
“She’s comin’ home with me, she can’t be trusted. Until we get to the bottom of this, she won’t be leavin’ my side,” Beckett informs him.
“You sure you’re up for that? She can’t be trusted, Beckett,” Riggs questions.
“Trust me,” Beckett growls, glaring at me in the rearview mirror. “She won’t be goin’ anywhere.”
My phone rings loudly from my pocket, but I choose to ignore it. Mostly because I set something up that is going to go very bad and because of that, I’m going to be in more danger than I was before. Hopefully, Dane can fix this mess, but I have a sinking feeling he can’t.
My phone rings again.
And again.
“You goin’ to answer that fuckin’ phone?” Beckett questions, his glance not leaving me.
“No.”
“Remy, answer it,” Riggs orders.
“No,” I say again, shoving my hand in my pocket and pulling out the phone. “It’s a friend.”
“Answer it.”
This time Riggs isn’t allowing for any argument.
I can see Dane’s name flashing across the screen.
I reach for the window, I’m literally ready to throw the phone out at this point. Remy leans over quickly and snatches the phone from my hand, answering it.
I clench my eyes shut, horrified.
I’m dead.
This is all going wrong.
“They hung up,” Remy says, handing the phone to Riggs. “Man named Dane.”
“Fuck,” Beckett barks. “Fuck.”
“What?” Remy questions.
“Dane is the god damned detective that has been slimin’ all over our club for months now,” Riggs growls, turning in his seat to stare at me. “Care to fuckin’ explain.”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” I say, casually. “That’s my, ah, boyfriend.”
God.
Any lie would have been better than that.
“Call the number back,” Beckett orders.
Riggs dials the number on loudspeaker, it doesn’t answer but it doesn’t have to. It goes to voicemail and Dane’s voice, announcing who he is, comes across loud and clear.
I drop my head, muttering a curse.
“Care to fuckin’ tell me what you’re doin’ talkin’ to a cop?” Riggs asks.
“No,” I bite out. “Not unless you let me call him back, it’s important.”
“Not goin’ to happen,” Beckett snarls, his voice a low whip.
“Let her ring him,” Remy argues. “Put it on speaker.”
“He won’t say anythin’ now,” Riggs shakes his head. “He knows we have her phone.”