Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 76953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Then I heard it.
The strike.
The cry.
There had already been gasoline in my veins.
That sound lit the match.
I kicked down the fucking door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Gracie
Cameron moved fast; I had to give him that.
Choking someone out doesn’t last nearly as long as you would think.
But by the time I got enough oxygen back in my brain to think straight, let alone fight, I was slammed down into a sturdy plastic wheelbarrow. Pain shot up my spine and the back of my head when I couldn’t brace for the fall.
My vision swam.
And he was on me, wrestling me over onto my face, yanking my arms up behind my back, then securing my wrists with thick zip ties.
As much as I kicked, he managed to get my ankles done as well.
Then came the gag that pressed so deep that the sides of my lips burned and cracked open.
But there was no time to worry about that.
Not when he finally abandoned me in the back to start hauling ass through the woods.
The uneven terrain had my face cracking off the hard plastic a few times before I managed to flop myself onto my back.
That didn’t feel much better, each rock and stump making my body jolt and crack back down.
Cameron was taking the woods at a dead run, weaving in and out between trees, likely very aware that he would have not only a handful of pissed-off bikers on his ass, but the whole tristate Irish mob for daring to strike during one of their events.
And while the woods were protected land and relatively deep for the area, it wasn’t long before Cameron reached an access road.
That was where he had his car stored.
This is where every bit of training I had screamed that I could not let myself be taken to a second location. Nothing good ever happened in a second location.
Fight like your life depends on it, my Aunt Janie’s voice screamed in my head, because it does.
I pulled my knees in toward my chest and waited until he leaned forward to reach for me.
Then I aimed high on his chest with every freaking ounce of my strength.
He stumbled back before crashing down.
I didn’t pause.
I threw my weight until I upset the cart.
It crashed down to the side, making me fall and roll, the gravel on the road scratching the hell out of my cheek.
I felt the hot trickle of blood, but there was no time to focus on that.
I pushed myself over onto all fours, cursing my bound feet and wrists.
I knew how to get out of zip ties. But normal zip ties. I wasn’t sure these extra-thick industrial-type ones would break the same.
Before I could even try, though, a foot kicked me hard in the ass, sending me flying face-first into the ground.
This time, the pain exploded.
And before I could even try to get myself up, a hand grabbed my hair in a savage grip, twisting and dragging me by it back toward the car.
A scream caught in my throat.
But it muffled against the gag.
Then I was tossed in the trunk, my head knocking off something hard enough for me to black out for a split second.
I was awake before the engine roared to life.
Then, well, we were off.
I braced myself against the front wall of the trunk, rolling onto my side so my hands could feel around the interior.
Cameron had planned this. But he hadn’t prepared well for it.
The trunk was littered with junk.
A gym bag full of what felt like clothes and shoes, a water bottle, a few scattered reusable grocery bags, a ball of some sort, and, yes, a bat.
A freaking bat.
I pulled it up to a short choke, knowing that my swing was going to be compromised by the small space, and that if I held it too far away, Cameron would be able to yank it away from me. Then likely punish me for trying to hit him in the first place.
But if I could time it right, if I could find enough momentum, if my aim was true, a metal bat to the face could do a whole hell of a lot of damage.
Maybe even enough to give me a chance to get my ankles free so I could run. I could deal with the wrists later. I just needed to put all my radio training sessions to work and haul ass the hell away from here.
Get to somewhere public.
Find a person.
Find a phone.
Then bring the might of the entire freaking MC down on this asshole.
The ride was long enough for some of the adrenaline from the initial kidnapping and attack to wane. In its wake was the pain it had protected me from.
The burning sensation of cuts across my cheek, nose, chin, and forehead. The pounding where my head slammed into the ground. The migraine screaming behind my eyes. The minor pangs where my body had knocked against the wheelbarrow.