Total pages in book: 217
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
I hear a car and turn, seeing Beau pulling up with Otto. “What are you doing here?” I ask as I approach and Otto goes to the trunk of Dolly. I thought all the men were out on business.
“I needed to pick up something.” He appears a few seconds later with some leads of some kind.
“What?” I ask, watching as he flips the hood of the Mercedes and squeezes some metal claw things.
“A few grenades and a harpoon.” He bends over the engine, and I roll my eyes as Beau collects the other ends of the leads.
“Then you’re in the wrong place. I believe all weapons are now stored in the swanky new bunker buried underground at the boatyard.”
He exhales and unbends his body, looking at me tiredly, and I smile sweetly.
“I just spoke to Esther.”
His face becomes thunderous, and he goes straight back under the hood.
“Have you spoken to her?” I ask.
“Little point, isn’t there?”
“Why?” I press. “I thought you two were getting along nicely.” Too nicely for Danny.
On an impatient grunt, Otto straightens again. And smacks his head on the underside of the hood. “Fuck!”
I flinch, and Beau flies around, still armed with the claw clips on the cables. “What happened?” she asks.
“Fuck!” Otto yells again.
“Shit!” I rush over as he rubs his head. “Is it bleeding?” I take his hand and check, seeing his palm smeared with blood. “Ouch.” I look beneath the hood and spot a catch on the underside. “Of all the places you could hit your head, you hit it on the only spot with a metal catch.”
“Rose,” he hisses, looking at his bloody palm. “Oh fuck.”
“What?” I ask, assessing him. “Shit, Otto, you’re pasty white.”
Beau drops the cables and hurries over. “Otto?”
“I think I need to sit down,” he mumbles, his speech becoming slurred, his eyes starting to roll.
“Oh my God,” I cry, as he starts to sway. “He’s going to pass out!”
Beau hooks an arm through his on one side, and I take the other, just as Otto becomes a dead weight between us. “Fucking hell,” Beau gasps, as we both crumple to the floor under the strain, unable to hold Otto up, not surprising really, since he’s probably double our size. “Get Doc,” she orders urgently, having me making a mad dash for the house, yelling as I go.
“Doc!” I shriek when I make it into the hallway, out of breath, my throat scratchy. “Doc, where are you?” I run into the kitchen, the TV room. “Doc!” God damn it. I pull my phone out and dial Danny, and he answers in just one ring. “Is Doc with you?” I ask urgently.
“No. Why would Doc be with me? I left him at the house to scan you.”
“He did scan me, and now—”
“What’s wrong? Are you okay? The baby?”
“I’m fine. We’re fine, but Otto isn’t.”
“What?”
“He hit his head and lost consciousness.”
“How the fuck did he hit his head?”
“He misjudged how much head height he had.” I’m being very sketchy with the truth, but Danny doesn’t need details, this is an emergency, and I don’t want my plans to learn to drive ended before they’ve begun.
“Rose?”
I turn around and find Doc at the top of the stairs. “Never mind, I’ve found him.” I hang up and wave my hands frantically. “Otto’s hurt,” I tell him. “You need your bag.”
“My God.” He turns to go back to his room. “No rest for the wicked,” he grumbles. Never has a statement rang truer.
While Doc is gone, Danny calls me back. I answer and pace. “Never, and I mean never, hang up on me,” he warns.
Doc appears, hurrying down the stairs as fast as his old body will allow. “I’m here, I’m coming, I’m armed,” he sings.
“I’m sorry.” I flank Doc as we rush back out to the gardens. “I’ve got to go.”
“There are so many questions I want answered.”
“They’ll have to wait.” I take my chances and hang up again, needing to brief Doc on what’s happened. “He hit his head on the metal catch on the hood of Dolly.”
“What?” He looks at me in utter confusion.
“Beau’s car. Dolly. Then he passed out.”
“I see.”
We make it to them, and I’m surprised to see Otto sitting up, his scowl epic. “You came around,” I say, as Beau gives me a look that tells me to tread carefully.
“I’m fine,” he grunts, trying to get to his feet, wobbling.
“Let us not be smart,” Doc says, moving in as Otto gives up and drops like a rock to the ground. He checks Otto’s head. “Superficial,” he murmurs.
“Superficial?” I blurt. “I saw the blood. Not even any stiches?”
“No.” He squeezes a tube of liquid onto Otto’s head and starts wiping.
“I don’t like blood,” Otto grunts, making both Beau and I balk. He’s a killer, and he doesn’t like blood? “My own blood,” he adds quietly, looking up at us moodily. I’m forced to press my lips together, as is Beau, but I quickly look away from her.