Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 73043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
He was staring blankly at the men around him, and he was anything but scared.
He was pissed.
“Go get his computer,” GIC—guy in charge—ordered.
The man that’d circled around to my back took a step back, and then turned on his heel and rushed up the steps. He burst right through the door and disappeared inside.
“As for you, my friend Rafe, Layton would like to have a few words with you…with both of you,” GIC said.
Rafe didn’t reply. Didn’t move.
Hell, I wasn’t even sure he was breathing.
The sound of boots on the wooden steps made me turn my head to look behind me again, and what I saw nearly made me laugh.
The guy that’d gone to retrieve Rafe’s computer had retrieved a computer all right.
He hadn’t grabbed Rafe’s computer, though. He’d grabbed mine.
Dumbass.
There was nothing on my computer but a bunch of mumbo jumbo. I kept everything backed up in the Cloud. Literally, the only thing they would find was my freakin’ Solitaire addiction.
Rafe’s computer was similar to my own—if you didn’t count the stickers.
However, there had to be a reason that they’d wanted Rafe’s, otherwise, they wouldn’t have specifically mentioned it as if he had something that they wanted.
So, if it wasn’t in their hands, I was happy.
“All right, Rafe. Make this easy. Let’s go, and we don’t kill your girl,” GIC said. “You both just come with me, and we’ll make it out of here with everyone breathing.
“You leave her here, and I’ll go with you,” Rafe countered.
GIC shook his head. “No. We can’t do that. Boss said you were both to come, so you both come. You know how orders are.”
Rafe’s hand clenched on the gun.
“No,” Rafe repeated.
“Boys,” GIC sighed.
Everybody moved at once.
Guns were drawn, but none of the four that had raised their pistols got any further than unholstering them.
Why?
Because Rafe had put a bullet in their skulls in less time than it took me to draw my next breath.
Everyone was frozen.
Everyone, that was, but Rafe…and apparently the guy behind me.
The guy behind me put his arm around my throat, and I was pulled back against him.
He spun and aimed, but it was too late.
The man had me exactly where he wanted me.
I could hear the rise of voices as the neighbor’s music changed to country music, and I wondered if anybody would’ve heard those gunshots over all the racket they were making.
Our luck, probably not.
My eyes widened when the man at Rafe’s back moved, but my puppies were on him before he could so much as take a threatening step.
Kimber had him by the arm that was raising the weapon in the air, and Glock was at his throat moments later.
Then suddenly, it was just one.
“Get in the van,” the man said. “Now.”
Rafe swallowed, then started backing away.
“I’ll get in the van if you let her go.”
“Drop the gun,” the guy ordered.
Rafe threw it underhanded across the yard, and it landed in the flower bed with a soft thud. Then he backed away until he was standing next to the van.
“Call the dogs,” bad guy number six ordered. “I have some rope in the van. Tie them to the mailbox.”
Rafe hesitated, and the guy with his arm across my throat cocked his gun.
Rafe reached into the van and got the rope.
Then he called the dogs to his side and tied them to the mailbox.
Rafe waited for his next order, which, apparently, was to get in the van.
“In the back. There’s a set of handcuffs. Cuff both hands to the pole back there.”
Rafe made eye contact with me.
“How do I know you won’t hurt her?”
Bad guy grunted. “You don’t.”
Then he pressed the gun to my forehead harder.
That was about the time that I lost my battle with the nausea.
It hit me so fast and hard that I was projectile vomiting all over my captor, as well as all over Rafe’s front walk.
My captor pushed me away with a shove and started walking away from me.
Moments later, the van with Rafe inside was gone.
And I was left standing alone with five dead bodies in Rafe’s front yard, with vomit covering me and everything around me in a five-foot radius.
Before I could freak out, though, a police cruiser pulled up.
A large, tanned man got out in police uniform, took everything in, and went for the mic on his shoulder.
“This is Unit-56. We’re going to need additional units. The father was right.”
My father!
“Daddy!” I said, reaching for my phone.
My father came onto the line in less than an instant.
“Janie, are you okay?”
“I-I’m okay. Rafe…Rafe went with him.”
“I know, baby. We’re already working on it,” he said. “Is the detective there?”
“Detective?”
The phone was taken from my hand, and the large tanned man—who I now realized wasn’t exactly tan, but more of a mocha color thanks to his heritage that had nothing to do with the sun. “This is Detective Tyler Cree.”