Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 74875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
“You’re fucking shitting me, right?” I said to Travis. “This mother fucker is going to shoot me, and since I can’t have a fuckin’ gun anymore, I literally have nothing to defend myself with.”
“He was the one that put up bail, using his stupid fugly car, on his stupid cousin. If he can’t see that this is the right thing to do, then I can’t help him. Get the car. You can handle yourself without a gun and we know it.”
That was true.
I was six foot five, two hundred and fifty pounds, and could literally lift the stupid fucking car up off the ground if I tried hard enough, but I couldn’t protect myself from a bullet to the back.
“You know how this guy is,” I continued.
I was going to go back to jail today. I could feel it.
“I know that you’ve repossessed his car twice, and each time before you’ve gotten out of it fine.”
Travis was in a mood today. What had crawled up his ass?
Then, because I really didn’t care if I kept my job when he was doing stupid shit like sending me out to a known prick’s house that would likely get me in trouble and he knew it, I told him what I thought.
“When I die, you’ll have to feel bad about this for the rest of your life,” I told him.
Then I hung up because I wasn’t getting anywhere by telling him I needed backup—which he said he didn’t have. But, the car had to be picked up today since the little prick traded cars like he traded playing cards.
Instead of doing what my gut told me to do—which was leave—I walked into the yard and straight to the car.
The first thing that fucked the rest of the day up was the dog I saw chained to a tree.
It was skin and bones. Skinny enough that I could count every one of his ribs, as well as see the line of the dog’s spine.
He was chained to a tree with a chain that had to weigh more than the dog itself. The poor thing couldn’t even lift his head.
Though, that might have been due to him being in direct sun with no water nearby.
I gritted my teeth, telling myself that I shouldn’t be having the thoughts that I was having.
I really, really shouldn’t.
In fact, if I was going to have any thoughts, it should be about putting the dog out of his misery for having to have an owner like The Prick aka Colman Stone.
Turning my head away from the dog once again, I walked to the car and stared at it.
I knew that the kid put stupid homemade car alarms on his shit, and I also knew that he rigged his car up so that it’d not make it much further than the driveway if and when it was ever taken.
This Colman kid had some powerful enemies at his young age, and though he’d never been charged with anything, it was only a matter of time until his stupid finally caught up with him.
Today, hopefully, wouldn’t be one of those times. Why, you ask? Because if his stupid finally caught up with him, I had a feeling that that would be at the expense of me being shot because he was trying to stop me from repossessing his car.
I let my eyes roam over the vehicle, easily seeing the wire that was there between the front door and the back door. The two pieces were essentially magnets. Once they were separated, an alarm would sound. Normally these would be found on a door inside the house.
They were applied with a sticky foam substance to the doors of the house, and nine times out of ten, it ruined your paint when you took them off.
Apparently, Colman didn’t give a shit about ruining his paint when he decided to take them off.
Hunkering down on my haunches, I reached forward and ripped the two pieces off, being sure to keep them together so that the alarm wouldn’t rouse everyone in the neighborhood.
After another inspection of the vehicle and satisfied that I’d gotten all of his homemade booby traps, I jimmied the car open using a metal hook like device.
The lock popped open easily—almost too easily.
Really, it was almost comical how many ‘alarms’ he had—fourteen in total.
Too bad I wasn’t a dumb kid, because they were all so obvious I was sure even a fucking six-year-old could find them.
Cautiously, I opened the door to the car, breathing a sigh of relief when no alarms of any kind sounded.
Something clinked behind me, and I felt rather than saw something coming up behind me.
Turning on my heels ready to throw a punch, I realized that it wasn’t a person, but the dog, that was now standing up staring at me.