Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 60360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
She swept the light over the interior, hitting upon a stack of pallets off to one side, where the skip was undoubtedly crouching even though she couldn’t make him out. In a quick decision, she switched off the light and continued past the car, putting the open door behind her. It was a risky move if he had a gun, but if he had one, she felt reasonably confident he would have shot at her by now. When she’d knocked on the apartment door, he’d immediately gone for the window and the fire escape beyond. Unless he’d already had the gun on him, he wouldn’t have had time to grab it. Plus, he was shirtless, so unless it was in his pants…
Izzy crunched her boots on the gravel, being deliberately loud and hoping Mr. High School Drop Out wasn’t smart enough to see through her ruse. The train car was a gamble, or a worse one anyway than simply giving him her back. It was too dark in the car and if she lost the mag light once inside the car it would be a serious problem. There was no way to know if another rider might be in there, lurking in the shadows. If she had especially bad luck he’d be hiding in a dark corner at the rear of the car. Being caught between two assholes was not how she wanted to go out, if she had to go at all.
“Always have a plan,” Pop’s voice sounded in her head. “Easiest way to catch a skip is to let ‘em come to you.”
Izzy slid the Glock back into the thigh holster and reached into her leather jacket instead. The sun was in front of her, which would make it harder for him to see her clearly. Nice, but it would be better if they were facing the other way where she would have the advantage of at least seeing his shadow cast on the ground. She held her cell phone slightly out to the side, pretending to punch in numbers. In the phone’s glass reflection, she caught a glimpse of the skip sliding out of the open car door. He was careful not to make much noise as his sneakers hit the gravel. Izzy sighed loudly, in mock frustration, to cover up the noise he was making. He paused, aware he was being too loud, but as Izzy hadn’t seemed to notice, he appeared to rally and started toward her again. He lifted something in his hand. The phone’s screen had a slight glare and she couldn’t tell exactly what it was.
Her heart was pounding from the adrenaline spike. She never let fear overwhelm her, but it was always there. “Even the best laid plans…” Pop always said.
“Stupid bitch.”
Izzy spun on her heel and raised the second gun. She pulled the trigger and two darts shot out, catching his bare chest. He seized as 300k volts ran through him. He’d been holding a board, cracked and filthy, obviously planning to bash her in the head with it. She shivered as it hit the ground. It might have broken, she told herself optimistically.
She dropped the Taser and dashed forward. She fished a zip tie out of her pocket and rolled the skip to his side. He groaned as she fastened his wrists behind his back. He said something that sounded a lot like ‘bitch’ again.
“You’re drooling,” Izzy told him and pulled him up into a sitting position. She patted his bare shoulder and grinned at him. “And I’m pretty sure you’re the bitch.”
Chapter 2
Caleb angled his Harley into a parking space at the far left of the station’s lot. He put the kickstand down and swung his leg over the back. He had on a brown leather jacket, but hadn’t zipped it. The fall weather hadn’t yet turned crisp and he was determined to take the bike to work for as long as he still could. He strode past the line of Rapid City PD cruisers all parked and awaiting tonight’s shift change. Caleb only worked two nights a week; the rest of the week he was on days. In some ways, though, he preferred his night shifts even though the scheduling often wreaked havoc on his sleep schedule.
It was usually on the night shift that he caught the type of calls he most anticipated. Caleb wouldn’t say he looked forward to them, far from it, but he answered each dispatch with a kind of electricity humming just under the surface of his skin. To match it, though, was an underlying feeling of dread as he drove to each call, constantly wary of what he might find when he arrived. Some nights he didn’t get those calls at all and on those nights he felt the same slightly horrifying mixture of relief and disappointment. As he eyed the freshly washed police cars, he wondered what tonight’s shift would bring.