Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 86360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“I didn’t ask if you were told to take me,” I say, letting my head flop back on the pillow as if I’m exhausted, when what I’m really trying to do is move my hand enough to see if I can reach the knife I keep at my belt without them seeing. “I asked if you knew what this meant.”
Silence. I speak quickly.
“My father’s the head of the firing squad. You’re outnumbered, lads, three to one. Soon as my family knows you’ve taken me, he’ll send out his top shooters to go straight for yours. Our best fighters, our heaviest artillery, and you well know we’re outfitted better than you lot.”
One whispers to the next, “He knows who we are then, bloody hell.”
Christ, but they’re idiots.
“You have what belongs to us,” one says.
“No fucking idea what you’re talking about,” I say, facing the wall, my fingers on the very edge of the handle. “We did nothing against you.”
“You took what’s ours!”
If they’re talking about Caitlin, I’ll kill them. I’ll fucking tear their hearts out with my own bare hands.
“And what’s that?” I ask, feigning ignorance.
“As if you don’t know you’ve got intel from the keeper that was rightfully ours? Hmm?”
I blink in surprise, truly astounded they’re so brainless. “You mean the spying he did on us?”
“We paid half a million quid for that intel.”
I laugh out loud. “And you think I’m going to hand you back information he stole from us?”
One of them grumbles. “We paid for that intel. Furthermore, you killed our men.”
“Fair kills,” I counter. “They attacked our women and bylaws are clear as fucking day. You attack a woman of The Clan, your life is forfeit.”
“We’re due retaliation!” one says, getting to his feet. I have to use their stupidity against them.
My hand just barely gets the very edge of the knife. “They’re coming now,” I say, shaking my head at them. “I hear them. You’ll be surrounded. You’re outnumbered. And when your Captain or Chief catches word of what you’ve done, who you’ve taken…” They look at one another, buying every word of my bluff, and at that very minute the sound of a motorbike goes by the window. I doubt my men know I’m here or that they’ve come, but it’s to my advantage to distract them while I cut my bonds.
“Go look,” the bald man says to the manky one. “Fucking look.”
He rushes to the center of the room, and I blink, my eyes finally adjusting to the darkness. I watch as he descends a spiral staircase to the floor below.
Bloody hell. I know where we are.
They took me to the lighthouse. The lighthouse. Why are we here?
A second man ascends to the top floor, and I’m left with the bald guy, who paces around, looking out the window below. I’m not going to be left alone. I use the momentary distraction to draw my blade up. It slices through my finger and I brace against the pain, fumble with it, my back my captor. Thank Christ the blade is sharp and my bonds makeshift and weak. My hands spring free. I pretend I’m still bound and tuck the blade under my body.
“There’s no one here, boss. He’s either delusional or lying,” one yells from above.
“Anything below?” he asks. “We need to—”
But he doesn’t get any further than that when I lunge and strike. He isn’t prepared for me, as I vault across the small room. My knife meets its mark, and he screams in pain. I hear the sound of the others coming, but I have an advantage. In seconds, I incapacitate the one beside me, and knock him out. The manky one’s on the stairs, but I kick him swiftly and send him flying, and the second becomes victim to my blade. Now that my hands are free, I can reach for my pistol that the idiots didn’t even realize I had on me.
The man beside me launches himself at me, and in his haste, he knocks over the oil lamp. It crashes to the floor,, the oil leaking onto the hardwood, and flames begin licking at the oil. It flames like a match to tinder, and the bald man howls when the flames hit him. I reach for him, drag him into the heart of the flames, and he screams as the fire meets its mark.
In seconds, the small interior’s filled with smoke and flame, and I can’t stop it. I drag him to the edge of the fire and leave him, howling in rage and pain, unable to escape the flames. I assess my situation. I’m too high to jump, and I’ve got two barely incapacitated men after me. I cover my face against the heat and flames, everything igniting so quickly I fear I won’t make it out.
I run to the stairs, but one of them’s after me. I kick his face, and he screams, falling to the floor. I leap off the stairs, crouch on the ground beside him, and when he attacks, I roll with him. I’ve still got my knife in hand and use it to my advantage. I slash his chest, and he howls, rears back, and decks me so hard I see stars, but I keep my head about me. I slice at his neck, and when crimson blood spurts out and he gasps for air, I whip out my handgun and shoot. My mark is certain, and he slumps to the ground with a bullet through his temple. I toss the dead body to the side and run for the exit.