Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Headshot.
“Repeat.” I released the breath I’d been holding and did it all over again. I tried to pick off as many guys as I could to cover the men below and reduce the number who made it into the house. There was literally nowhere for me to run. I was fucking trapped.
I continued my shots until a spray of bullets hit the window, and glass shattered on the floor.
I dodged out of the way and pressed my back to the wall, watching bullets hit the dresser and the opposite wall. I breathed and waited for the gunfire to finish, and when it did, I waited a few more moments longer.
I crept closer to the edge and peered along the side of the house.
I saw a group of them run up the stairs then disappear from my view.
“Fuck, they’re in the house.” I put down the rifle and grabbed the shotgun instead. I made sure it was loaded with two bullets and the safety was off before I stood in front of the desk and waited for them to come for me.
It was no coincidence that they’d hit the vineyard when my father and his inner circle were somewhere else. They probably wanted to clear the place out and loot the guns from the warehouse.
But they also might want to take me.
I wasn’t stupid. I knew how men played their games.
“Like fucking hell they’re taking me.” I stared at the furniture that blocked the door and then heard the gunfire that sprayed it. It was so loud I thought my eardrums both popped and I’d become permanently deaf, but after a couple seconds, my hearing returned.
I moved behind the desk for cover and listened to them continue to blow the doors and the furniture, chunks of wood flying and bullet holes piercing all of it. I could see the light change through the holes as they moved around on the other side.
My hands started to shake as I gripped the shotgun. “He’s coming.”
They started to slam into the doors to break through all the compromised furniture. Bang. Bang. Bang.
I left the desk and looked out the window. Gunfire still ricocheted, and it was a twenty-foot drop to the ground. I’d probably break one or both of my legs in the fall, and then I really would be fucked.
I looked out to the road, hoping to see my father’s SUV headed this way, along with a line of cars behind him—but I saw nothing.
“Fuck.”
Then an explosion burst against the door, as if they’d used a grenade to break it down. Flames immediately erupted along with a cloud of smoke that made it hard for me to breathe.
I rose from the desk with my shotgun ready and saw the furniture being shoved aside by a man in the front.
I aimed the shotgun and fired, hitting him right in the chest. I cocked the gun to drop the next bullet into the barrel. I wanted to roar in ferocity and terror, but I kept my shot and focused, waiting for the next asshole to come through.
I was trapped, but the way through the debris was narrow, so they were trapped too.
Another one came into the gap with a handgun and shot at me.
I felt my entire body shift backward when the bullet hit my vest, the momentum as powerful as a shove from a man twice my size. But I kept my balance with my foot planted behind me like my father had taught me, and I hit him right in the chest.
He dropped like the first.
I didn’t have time to reload, so I grabbed the AK-47 next and sprayed the two men who rushed me afterward.
They’d probably underestimated just how much ammunition I had in here.
“They’re on their way,” a man shouted from the other side. “Get the bitch and let’s go.”
So they were here for me.
I gripped the rifle hard with both hands. “Good fucking luck with that.”
“She’s packing in there,” another said.
It was quiet, and then there were more thuds. Some had crawled forward and were moving the furniture aside to clear the doorway so others could get inside. I sprayed both of the dressers until they stopped moving, but then my magazine was empty.
I quickly reached for the desk behind me to grab another clip, but a guy rushed through with a gun pointed at my head. “She’s out.” He put his gun in the back of his jeans as he came for me.
My hand trembled, and I missed the slot to shove in the magazine.
He was twice my size, and he snatched the gun from my hands and then hit me in the face with the butt of the weapon, making me fly back to the floor. “We’re gonna make you pay for that, bitch.”
I reached for the knife on my thigh and then stabbed it right into his calf, making him roar like a wounded bear before he dropped to the floor, unable to stand because I’d cut him exactly where Wolfe said the tendon was.