Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Pedro, Naomi, Nash, and Charlie haven’t yet returned from Sea Ranch. Hopefully this means the new group are interested in joining us. The twins are currently on patrol and listening for any updates from Naomi. Dean has stopped hovering and is making dinner. Though if I take longer than a quarter of an hour at the creek, he said he would come looking. And the children are busy with sticker and sketch books at the bed-and-breakfast. They had a big day. Natalia has started teaching them Spanish and George gave them lessons in safely starting a fire and how to read a map.
The water temperature is best described as refreshing. As much as I tell myself it’s warming up more every day, summer is still a while away. Avan checked my war wound and changed the dressing to a waterproof one. Throwing myself in is the best way. To get the shock of the cold water over and done with at once.
There’s no underestimating the spluttering and carrying on when I surface. One day soon we’re going to be able to risk the noise and run generators. We will have hot water for showers and everything will be good again. I long for that day. Sophie and the other children don’t seem to have any problems frolicking in the arctic water. But it steals the breath out of me.
Then, out of nowhere, a strong hand grabs a fistful of my hair from behind and a blade is pressed against my neck. “Well now,” says the gravelly voice against my ear. “You’re even prettier than I was told.”
My shaking is partly from the cold water, but mostly from him as I say, “Let me guess—you must be Porter.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
TUESDAY
“This is such bad timing,” I say, as he walks us out of the creek and onto the grass.
More of his men appear from between the trees up and down the length of the waterway. Over a dozen of them. More are probably coming in on the road and around the creek bend, out of sight. But our people have to be catching this on the cameras. Surely.
“Why is that, honey?” asks Porter. He’s a blocky middle-aged man with a squinty stare and an unattractive aura. Never actually described anyone as having such a thing before. But wow does he have one. Just ugly as sin.
“I only now convinced my husband that he doesn’t need to follow me everywhere to keep me safe,” I say.
Porter hisses through his teeth. “Shit.”
“I know, right?”
“If it makes you feel any better, he’s going to be the first person I kill when we get up there.”
I give him a brilliant smile. “Makes perfect sense. It’s not like your pencil dick could compare to his man meat, right?”
Someone snorts nearby, but hastily turns it into a cough. Coward.
Which is when Porter releases his hold on my hair and swaps the hand holding his knife. Then he punches me in the face. He has a solid right hook. On the off chance I survive the next while, I won’t be using my left eye.
I stay crashed out on the ground, stunned for a minute. But getting hit in the face a second time isn’t quite as shocking. Don’t get me wrong; it’s still not fun. However, I think I might be getting used to it now. Not something I thought would ever happen, but here we are. The whole left side of my face is throbbing. And I am too stubborn and mouthy to regret a single fucking thing.
Shouts and shots are heard from the town. Near the road with the blockade and over by the bed-and-breakfast, by the sounds of things. Oh fuck. That’s where the children are. Not only is it a surprise attack, but we’re outnumbered.
Porter zip-ties my wrists together in front of me and passes me off to one of his men. Some dude who tosses me over his shoulder in a fireman’s pose. And we’re off and running toward town. His shoulder digs deep into my stomach with each step. I do not recommend the experience.
Demand for me was never this high back in normal times. I am a little bemused at being so popular at the end of the world. No matter which way I twist and turn my hands, they remain bound. I don’t know how to get out of this. I don’t know how to help anyone.
“Hang back with her,” orders Porter.
The one carrying me drops me onto the grass beside a house at the back of town. And I do mean drops. It takes me a minute to catch my breath. But I have obviously been designated useless and down for the count by this dick. Because he crouches and turns his back on me to keep an eye on the street and anyone trying to come hither to kill him. I think having to stay out of the fight and guard me has hurt his feelings. There’s a whole lot of grumbling going on. Judging by what he’s saying, it seems his workplace is toxic, and his input is being consistently either overlooked and or unappreciated.