Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 72756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
There're two bikes right behind us, their engines growling like furious bears and their headlights turning the inside of the van bright as day.
The driver on the left bike literally climbs up on it as the front wheel comes so close to the back of the van that it's almost touching. He launches himself forward and then, as his bike slams into the asphalt behind him with the screech of crumpling metal, he lands inside the back with us. When he comes up into a crouch, I can hardly believe what I'm seeing.
Crash.
“The fuck?” The cop tries to bring his gun to bear, but he's too slow, caught off guard. Crash barrels into him, bringing him down and slamming the cop's head into the floor once, twice, a third time and then lets go. The cop lies still.
“Devil, what's taking you so fucking long?” he yells to the front.
“Dude's stubborn,” Devil yells back, but the exchange distracts the driver, who realizes that whoever's in the back is no longer an ally. Devil slugs him across the jaw, and the guy goes limp. Devil grabs the wheel with both hands and nudges the guy so his foot slips off the pedal. We immediately slow down.
“Summer, you hurt?” Crash is there, crouched next to me while he pulls me close, lifting me right into his lap like I don't weigh anything at all. “I saw him raise his gun through the back window, and…. and fuck, if these fuckers hurt you—”
“I'm okay. A little sore, but I'm fine. Thank you.”
“Sore?” He looks at the cop with fire in his eyes.
“From getting scrambled like an egg in here. I swear. I'm fine, I just want to get out of here.” Then it occurs to me. “Crash, your bike!”
“I don't give a fuck. I can fix the bike. We can't fix you.”
The van pulls over to the side, the whole thing shaking as we go over the rumble strips and onto the shoulder. I finally feel like I can breathe normally again. If only I wasn't handcuffed.
“Can we get these off? Do you think they have the key?”
As we come to a full stop, Crash grins for the first time since this mess started. “I don't know. Maybe we should keep them on. It's giving me some ideas.”
“Crash!”
“All helpless, naked…” He leans in, right by my ear. “No choice but to take it as all three of us take a turn until we stuff you absolutely full of our—”
“Crash!” I stare up at him like he's insane. “Timing!”
He laughs as Preacher pulls up behind us. “Let's get you out of here and we'll explore your little kinks later.”
“I'm not—oh whatever. Just find the key.”
The cops do have it, and then I'm finally free again. “They’re going to come after us, aren't they?”
“They can try. Not the first time they've gotten uppity, trust me. These fuckers should be happy they're still alive when they wake up. Can you ride?” As he helps me out the back of the van, more motorcycles pull up, Eagle-eye at the front.
The president of the Screaming Eagles glowers down at me, and I've never felt so small in my life. Like I'm being judged and examined and there's no way I can meet those expectations. But then he lets out a little chuckle, and his expression softens. “Mission accomplished?”
“Sure is,” says Devil as he comes around from the front to join us. “Didn't even have to spill blood. Much anyway.”
“Nice work. Crash, Ripper’s got your bike up on a tow. Figure out who rides with who so we can get the fuck out of here before reinforcements arrive.”
Less than a minute later, I'm behind Preacher while Devil and Crash get rides with a couple of the others. Devil's dropped off at his bike, which he apparently got off of so he could double up with Crash to throw himself onto the van, and then we're all rumbling down the highway at full speed towards the Screaming Eagles clubhouse.
I cling to Preacher, pressing my face against his back. A slight drizzle starts up, but I don't care. I'm with the guys who'll do anything to keep me free, and I've never been so happy.
34
PREACHER
“Hello, is this Grayson Lee?”
“Speaking. Who's this?”
The fucker sounds awfully pleased with himself. Maybe he hasn't heard that we sprung Summer yet. Good.
“You still don’t remember me, Timmy? You must be slipping.”
The other end is silent for a long time. “What the hell do you want?”
“Just a message. We know exactly who you are, and we're coming for you. We're gonna find you, when you least expect it, and put a big fucking bullet right between your eyes. You better keep looking over your shoulder, because this has become real fucking personal.”
Then I hang up.
I just felt he should know.