Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 77961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“Yes, Ms. Haney.” He immediately directs his men to grab desks and chairs and whatever else they can find to build cover out in the hall.
The way Haney underestimates my guys gives me hope, even though I'm not sure Leon does. His expression has turned grim, but he herds his men back out the door to establish a line of defense.
I need to distract her. Closing my eyes and praying I'm not about to kill both Dad and me, I push my chair back. “I'm in. Come help me figure out what you want.”
“You are? About time.” She runs over, pushing me out of the way as she leans in to examine the screen. “Wait, this doesn't look like—”
Throwing all my strength into it, I jump from the chair, leading with my knee. It slams into her stomach and knocks her sideways with a grunt. She grabs me for support, and then we both go down in a pile on the floor, punching, kicking, pulling hair, anything that might give one of us the upper hand. With a twist, she flips me over her so we separate, at least for a moment. God, she's stronger than she looks.
“What is wrong with you?” she snaps, having managed to hold on to the gun despite our tussle.
I'm back on her before she gets time to aim it. “I can't let you do this.” Wrapping both hands around her wrist, I try to force her to drop her weapon. I only have to last long enough for the boys to get here.
“Let go, you little bitch!” she hisses and punches me in the jaw with her free hand. God, that stings. I haven't taken a punch since boarding school, and I'd forgotten how much it hurts. “When I'm done with you, you'll look even worse than your loser father.”
“Aw, did you have a crush on him? It’s starting to sound like you’re mad he didn’t want to take you to the prom.” I slam her wrist into one of the legs on the office chair I was in, and there's a faint crack. She screams as the pistol rattles across the floor. I only get a moment of triumph before she gets a grip on my hair and yanks my head backwards so hard I think she's going to pull it all out.
We roll over each other across the floor, punching and clawing, until we end up against the wall, with her on top. There's the metallic taste of blood in my mouth, and the back of my head feels like it's already swelling. A bruise is forming around her eye and there's a red trickle from her left nostril, but she manages to pin my arms with her knees and put her hands around my throat, and I'm not strong enough to push her full weight off me.
“I should kill you. I should fucking kill you,” she wheezes. “If I have to make a run for it, I will, but I’ll make sure I leave behind the corpses of both you and your father if you don't stop messing with me. Now, you're going to get up and you're going to get me into the system, or I swear to God, I'm going to choke you out right here. Do you understand me?”
Her tight grip has my vision swimming and my lungs struggling for breath. What she's demanding is impossible, but if I tell her that, she'll definitely kill me. She doesn't have anything left to lose. With no air for answering, I manage a kind of nod. She squints suspiciously, but then she pulls back quickly, taking the pressure off and moving herself out of reach. I'm still catching my breath when she picks the gun back up.
“Leon, status!”
“We’re stalling them, but they’ll be here soon,” he yells from the hall, where he and his men have run out of furniture to throw at the barricade and are now just waiting for my boys to show up.
“Good. Come in here and lock the door. I want backup in case this little bitch wants to try out her claws again.” Haney waves at the computer with her gun while she wipes her mouth with the other. She glances down to check for blood, then back at me. “Go on. No more fucking around. Get us in. Now.”
34
DIESEL
The elevator dings. Is taking it up fucking stupid? Sure, but it's not like we're not prepared, and sometimes there's power in doing the dumbest thing possible, 'cause no one expects it.
Bull's face is a mask of determination, while Shrapnel's looking mildly psychotic, his eyes wild with blood lust. Piston and Mad Dog, having bonded during their shared captivity, rode up with us, eager to beat out some of their frustration. And Viking and Wild Child, because when have they ever passed up the chance to get physical?