Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
She let out a weary sigh. “King, you can’t know that.”
I wanted to laugh. “Yeah, I can.”
I looked at her before pulling out onto the main road. She was staring straight ahead, and her entire body was tense. I wished I could just tell her the goddamn truth. That we were the fucking Mafia and we had no desire to hurt her in any way. Maeme’s aim was lethal. She’d taken out more than one man fifty yards away with a shot right between his eyes. Then, she’d walked away and told us to clean up the mess. But the boss had said we were to keep our place in all this from Rumor. He had no idea how hard that was getting to be.
“Just try to enjoy tonight. I’ll teach you about racing. You might find you love it. If so, maybe one day, you can go to an actual race with me—us.” I had to stop thinking of her as mine.
She nodded once. “I am going to try and not think about it.”
I’d have to work extra hard to keep her mind off it.
• twenty-six •
“Rumor, do you trust me?”
Rumor
King started to pull out onto the road when his eyes narrowed at something off to his right.
“GET DOWN!” he shouted as he reached over and pushed my head toward my lap. “ON THE FLOOR!”
My heart slammed against my chest, and I unbuckled quickly, then sank down to the floorboard, pulling my knees up to my chin. It was then that I heard the gunshot. I screamed, and my eyes swung up to King.
“Motherfucker,” he hissed and reached behind him to pull a gun from the waistband of his jeans. “Don’t move,” he warned me, then rolled down his window and took a shot.
I heard more gunfire, but it seemed farther away.
King opened the door and got out, barely glancing at me. “Do not move,” he repeated before slamming it shut and leaving me alone.
I sat there in horror. I’d imagined this. Feared this. And it was happening. They’d come for me. Someone was going to get hurt because of me.
Where was Maeme? Had they checked on her? Oh God, what if something had happened to her?
I needed to run. Get out. Take the danger away from them. They’d wanted to help me, and this was their reward.
What if King was shot? I’d let him just jump out of the truck into open gunfire. What had I been thinking? He couldn’t die for me.
I moved then. I had to get up. He’d said not to, but I wasn’t going to let him die. I didn’t want anyone hurt. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to him or his family. Grabbing the door handle, I started to get out when King was there in front of me, blocking my way.
“I said not to move,” he reminded me.
My eyes scanned him quickly for any sign of blood. He appeared to be fine.
“Maeme,” I told him.
We needed to get to her. Check on her. Then, he needed to let me go. Far away from here.
“Maeme is just fine. Everything is okay. It’s handled. Get back in the truck,” he told me, placing his hands on my hips and pushing me back.
I shook my head. He wasn’t going to tell me what to do. Not anymore. “I need to leave. This is my fault. I did this. I have to get away from here. I can’t let something happen to you…or Maeme or anyone.”
King grabbed my shoulders and stepped in between my legs. His eyes bored into mine as he moved in closer. “This isn’t your fault. It has nothing to do with you. I swear. You aren’t going anywhere, Rumor. You’re staying here.”
I stared at him, trying to decide if he was attempting to lie to me to make me feel better or if he truly thought that the gunshots weren’t the Mafia coming for me. Why else would someone show up and start shooting at us? This wasn’t some big city. We were in the country. I was the reason the guns were fired. They wanted me dead.
“Rumor, do you trust me?” he asked.
I blinked. Did I trust him? I wanted to. He’d saved me. He and his family had been more than generous to a complete stranger. Yes, I trusted him. I did. I had no reason not to. He’d proven himself trustworthy.
“Yes.”
He looked relieved. “Then, please stay in this truck. I have to make a phone call, and”—he pointed down the road, where I saw another vehicle and several people—“I have to go talk to Thatcher.”
My eyes stung. He was asking me to stay. I couldn’t do that. Didn’t he understand this? “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you or…or anyone.”
The corner of his lips quirked up. “It won’t.”