Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 176012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
It’s not a Dodge.
It’s bigger, like an SUV. There’s no Dodge at all. Who—
But someone swoops in from the side, grabbing me, and I gasp.
“Thank you for ditching Farrow,” he says, pulling back the hood of his jacket. “The boy was always as stupid as he was useless.”
I stop breathing, gaping at Drew Reeves. He has scruff on his cheeks instead of being clean shaven like I remember from when he was a cop, but his eyes are the same. Blue, like Lucas’s.
Lucas…
What have I done?
Reeves turned Lucas in.
His fingers clench around my wrists, holding them behind my back, and I grit my teeth, trying to free myself.
“I tried to talk myself out of hurting you.” His whisper falls over my lips, the stench of his sweat making me nauseous. “You have a lot of cumbersome relatives.”
He laughs and opens his mouth, like he’s going to kiss me.
“But I think I will,” he says. “Hurt you, I mean. Lucas will never be able to forget me then.”
I hold back my tremble.
“Get in the car nicely, Miss Caruthers,” he tells me, “and I won’t slit your throat when I’m done.” A sickly smile curls his mouth. “But you might want me to by then.”
I growl, dropping like dead weight—just like my brothers taught me—and slip through his hold as I fall to the porch.
I scramble, jumping down the steps. My knife is in the car.
But he grabs my hair, yanking me back. I twist around and spit in his face and he shoves me away. “Right here, then,” he taunts, pulling off his jacket.
His threat makes me whimper, my heart in my throat, and I look everywhere for any sign of help. I scream, he comes in to kiss me, and I bite his cheek.
We push away from each other, and I know he’s about to hit me. Send me flying to the ground, half-unconscious, and God help me then. Run, I tell myself.
But I don’t have a chance.
Something fast and dark sweeps in between us, and the next thing I know, blood is spurting from Drew’s neck. His eyes go wild, and he reaches for me as he holds his wound with the other hand, blood spilling over his fingers.
My mouth sits open, short, shallow gasps coming in as I watch the scene in front of me unfold.
Lucas’s enemy—the cause of his pain and separation from everyone he loves—plummets to the wet grass, and I jump back.
What the hell? A pool of red spills out around him.
I can’t move for a second. What…what…
What do I do?
What happened? I—
But the figure still stands to my left, watching Drew fade along with me, and I don’t know if I’m safe.
Wet hair spills out of her sweatshirt hood, the rest of the woman clad in jeans and sneakers.
Her eyes lift to me, but only for a second.
My chest caves. The eyes…
And as fast as an apparition, she’s gone. Running off the porch, past my car and Drew’s, and disappearing into the woods.
Horns honk and new headlights speed up on me from beyond the trees, but still, I watch the forest and the black void where she vanished. “Winslet?”
The nerves under my skin fire like little embers.
Lowering my eyes, I see Drew Reeves’s hand laying lax against his neck, blood staining his fingers and eyes gazing up at nothing with his mouth hanging open.
“Quinn!” someone shouts.
My stomach churns, the walls closing in…
They shake me. “Quinn!”
I snap my head up, meeting Dylan’s eyes.
“Are you okay?” she asks, then drops her gaze, seeing Reeves. “Oh my God.”
I stare down at him again.
She had been so fast. Winslet. No hesitation.
“Quinn?” Dylan shouts. “Are you hurt at all?”
I can’t take my eyes off the body. What would’ve happened if Winslet hadn’t showed up? Dylan and the boys would’ve come along quickly enough. Farrow rightly suspected that we tracked each other’s phones and called her. Reeves might’ve killed me instantly. Or shoved me in the car and drove away to who-knows-where. He could’ve hurt one of them if Winslet wasn’t here.
I breathe hard. “I didn’t…”
Hunter runs up to us, gaping at the body at our feet. “Holy shit, Quinn.”
I don’t blink. “It wasn’t me.”
It was her.
Lucas
A shout fills my ears. “Barry!”
I turn my head toward the hallway. Phones ring, voices are elevated, and shoes squeak against the floor as people move speedily up and down the hallway.
An officer named Heisler picks up the phone, listens, and then hangs up. Bolting out of his seat, he holsters his gun and starts to leave.
“What the hell is going on?” I ask, walking up to my bars.
“Officer Reeves—” Heisler tells the other cop. “Drew Reeves, I mean. He’s been killed.”
The other officer bolts out of his seat, but I freeze, watching them scramble to the door and swing it open.
What?
I grab the bars in my fists. “Who did it?” I shout.