Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
His mind began to own the sensation of dread, of being alone, of dying young. His fate now controlled by someone else. In the blink of an eye he’d gone from feeling cherished to a man completely powerless.
“Die. Just die, already.” Switch panted close to him. Close. Very close. Death whispered in his ear, told him he was in charge now. Michaels scrambled harder, fleeing from that dark voice. This was his last hoorah. With everything he had left, he reared forward and thrust his head back as hard as could. The shrill scream barely registered in his thudding ears. He was loose. Michaels scrambled to yank the bag from over his head, gulping and gagging while his lungs expanded, filled with life-giving, death-defeating oxygen. He was bent over, spitting and choking on his own saliva when he was grabbed around his midsection and charged until his back slammed into the entertainment stand, knocking the little bit of hard-won breath he had in his lungs back out. The few decorations that sat on top of the piece of furniture tumbled down around them. Switch was fucking rabid; he was snarling and growling at him while he fought to regain the upper hand. Michaels drove his elbow down onto Switch’s back, but knew he wasn’t doing enough damage. Switch punched him in the ribs and Michaels yelled out in agony, the name Judge on the edge of his lips. But there was no partner… only him. He saw the tall red vase on the desk to his right; he grabbed it and took another hard hit to his sternum before he crashed that glass over Switch’s head. The man dropped hard at his feet. If it hadn’t been for the muffled groan, he would’ve thought he’d killed him. He should’ve.
Michaels’ blood boiled hotter the longer he was able to catch his breath. Images of Judge filled his mind, of Judge fucking him and then leaving. Almost getting him killed. His vision blurred with bright shades of red and violet and his skin tingled like someone was poking at him with an electric wand. He kicked Switch in the stomach, but it did nothing to quench his rage. He yelled out and kicked again, this time driving his heel down onto Switch’s jaw. The man was out cold, but Michaels didn’t want to stop. He kicked until his bare foot started to hurt. He probably had broken his own toes, but the liquid heat that flowed through his blood masked any pain signals from his body to his brain.
He went into his room, grabbed his 9mm off the nightstand along with another set of handcuffs out of his jeans pocket, and went back into the living room. Switch was in the exact same position. He was weak with exhaustion while he dragged Switch’s dead weight into the bathroom. He tossed him inside and cuffed each wrist to the plumbing behind the toilet.
Exertion hitting him fast and hard, he stumbled out of the bathroom, hitting the wall. He slid down the abrasive surface, his elbows propped up on his knees, gun hanging loosely in his hand, his head resting on his chest. Exhausted. His face burned, his head throbbed with each breath he took. A concussion for sure. His ribs were sore and bruised. He was fucked up for real now. He felt just like he’d gone head to head with a murdering, desperate man who was fighting to keep his freedom.
Michaels’ head was still hanging low, his eyes heavy almost to the point of closing when he heard the metal clanking of Switch’s cuffs. He snapped his head up and pointed his weapon in the bathroom. Aimed his own death-maker right between Switch’s bloodshot eyes. “Blink and my face will be the last fuckin’ thing you see.” Michaels hissed around the pain in his head. He sat right there on the floor in an angry-glare showdown. Not bothering to get ice for his head, a cloth for the blood that had run down his temple, nothing, refusing to let Switch out of his sight again.
Switch didn’t move, didn’t utter a word. They stayed like that for hours until the hotel door was kicked in and he saw his brothers… his team. Ruxs, Green and Ro stormed through, taking in the destruction of the room. Ro came and dropped down at Michaels’ side, tilting his head up to assess the damage.
“Motherfucker,” Ro snapped, and turned to face Switch. “Did you do this, goddamnit?!”
Michaels was trying to work his way off the floor, every move making him want to yell out to Jesus for mercy. Ruxs and Green first ensured the room was cleared and came over to a seething Ro.
“What the fuck?” Green yelled, looking at Michaels’ battered form, his handsome face frowned and twisted with rage. They all turned and looked at Switch and released a cacophony of fury and asswhuppings that only a band of brothers could give.