Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Internal bleeding. That’s internal bleeding.
Her head dropped forward. For a long moment, the only thing she could do was focus on the simple act of breathing.
In. Out. In. Don’t pass out. Don’t give them the satisfaction.
Demo had to know she wouldn’t be of much use to him if she died.
Maybe she should stop antagonizing him and let him think he’d won.
Beth closed her eyes and let the fear wash over her. Thirty seconds. She’d give herself thirty seconds to fall apart.
Her hands shook. Her breath came in shallow gasps that made her damaged ribs scream. Tears leaked from beneath her closed lids, hot, shameful, and unstoppable. She thought of her dad. Of her mom. But mostly of Saint’s face when he’d said he loved her. Would she ever see any of them again?
Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Thirty.
Beth opened her eyes. It worked. Thirty seconds to freak out, and now she was angry.
Incensed.
Fuck fear. When she left Jason, she promised herself she’d never cower before another man, and she didn’t plan to start now.
Fuck Demo and fuck these other assholes.
The Handlers would come for her, and they’d rain down hell on these assholes.
BACK PROPPED AGAINST a huge oak tree, Saint stared at the sawmill through the woods. His assault rifle hung from a strap across his chest, ready to mow down anyone who tried to keep him from Beth. He bounced his heel and tapped a thumb against his leg to try to expel some anxious energy.
It didn’t work
If Copper didn’t give him the go-ahead to charge in the next two minutes, he was going in anyway. Fuck waiting and fuck the plan.
Zach strode over. He and Copper had taken point. They’d distributed weapons and were deciding where everyone would go. When Saint protested, Zach squeezed his shoulder and told him he was too close to the situation and too volatile to be in charge.
There was also the small matter of Copper kicking him out of the club.
“This shouldn’t be hard,” Zach said. He rested his palm on the tree near Saint’s head.
Saint nodded, not taking his eyes off the sawmill.
“They’re fucking amateurs. No cameras. No guards. Easy as fuck.”
“Maybe they’re just that cocky.”
Zach shrugged. “Either way, good for us.”
Saint nodded.
“Hey.”
He turned in Zach’s direction.
“Happy for you, brother.” Zach slapped his shoulder.
Saint arched an eyebrow.
“You and Beth. That’s a damn good fit.”
His system couldn’t handle another shock. At least this was a positive one. Saint cast a glance at Copper, then focused back on Zach, who chuckled.
“Give him time. He already feels like shit about what happened the other night. There are a lot of fucked-up thoughts tangled in his head. He’s never gotten over the guilt for what his brother did to Shell. It’s always made him unreasonably protective of those two. He sees you’re good for her. He just needs to admit it.”
Saint grunted.
“Bring it in,” Copper called, waving everyone his way. The fifteen or so of them who’d come to help gathered close. “We go in loud, and we go in aggressive. Get everyone on the floor, face down. We’ll tie ’em up and leave ’em for the cops to deal with. Only shoot to kill if you got no choice. We don’t need the heat right now.”
Murmurs of agreement went around his brothers.
“Okay, let’s roll,” Copper announced.
Fucking finally.
Saint kicked straight into action. He secured the butt of his rifle against his shoulder and marched forward alongside the other MC members. Zach stood at his left, Maverick at his right. Sweeping right and left, he scanned the distance between the woods and the sawmill.
Nothing.
No cameras, no one monitoring the building’s exterior.
Easy as fuck, like Zach said.
Saint reached the door first. He grabbed the handle and whispered, “Three… two… one.” Then he yanked it open and burst through. “Everyone on the fucking floor! Now!”
Chaos erupted. Workers scrambled from the tables, white powder scattering like snow. One guy reached for his waistband, and Maverick put him down hard, boot to the back of the knee, face to the concrete.
A gun went off somewhere to Saint’s left. Someone screamed. He didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Beth was in here somewhere, and nothing else mattered.
The rest of his brothers fanned out, taking guys to the ground while Saint’s gaze swept the warehouse.
Saint turned right, rifle at the ready, and stopped dead in his tracks. Beth sat, tied to a chair, tears in her eyes, staring at him. He dropped the gun and rushed to her, falling to his knees beside the chair.
“Baby,” he whispered, cupping her bruised face between his hands. He wanted to crush her to him in a fierce hug, but couldn’t stand the thought of hurting her.
“I’m okay,” she whispered, but there was a wheeze quality to her voice.
She was most definitely not okay.
He was most definitely not okay.
He leaned in and brushed the gentlest of kisses across her swollen lips before resting his forehead on hers.