Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
One of the short guys is nodding at Roman. “I like it. Like my own place in the city much better, though.”
“Then I’m sure this isn’t your favorite place, either,” Roman says.
“I’ve enjoyed it so far,” the short guy says. “Just got into town about an hour ago.”
Suddenly, their conversation falls silent.
Pin-drop silent.
I don’t understand why.
But I see Roman exchange a glance with one of his cousins, while the other cousin gets a crazed look in his eyes.
“Is that right, John?” Roman says. “Because Noreen at Capp’s Diner says she saw you here, at six o’clock this morning. That doesn’t make it sound like you got here an hour ago.”
The air falls silent again, but this time it feels deafening.
I shift on my feet, a twig snapping under my shoe, and I wince, hoping no one heard it.
But none of the guys are moving an inch.
My heart stops when I see one of Roman’s cousins hold out a gleaming silver gun, pointing it straight at the bald man.
“Who the fuck were you meeting with in town, liar?” he says.
The other guy glares at him. “Get that out of my face.”
“Gentleman, we’re only here to talk,” the redheaded guy insists.
“We’re done talking,” Roman tells them. “Answer Yegor’s question. Now.”
“Fuck you,” the bald guy says, spitting on the ground. “I’ll never rat.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Roman’s cousin Yegor shouts louder now, taking a step forward and jamming the barrel of his gun onto the guy’s head.
My heart slams harder in my chest, adrenaline surging through my veins.
Holy fuck.
These guys are serious.
They’re actually going to fucking—
“I said three words, and I meant them. I will never. Fucking. Rat,” the bald guy says. “What are you going to do, Petrov prick? Shoot me in the skull?”
A loud bang hits the air and I stumble backward onto my ass as I see the man’s head lurch backward.
Red spills from a hole in his forehead.
Roman’s cousin just shot someone.
Shot them dead, point-blank, in the backyard.
My stomach lurches, and I almost puke, heaving over in the gravel behind the low shrub. I hear the argument continue, my ears still ringing from the sudden shot.
“On the ground,” Roman says in a deep voice, clearly talking to the redhead. “Yegor, you should not have shot that man. What is going through your head? We needed to negotiate a little longer.”
“Fuck negotiating,” Yegor shouts. “He disrespected us. He lied.”
“Shit. Get back here—”
I look up to see the redheaded man taking off, getting a head start and darting off through the side yard.
He’s running straight toward me.
I get up off the ground and cold fear spreads through my body as I look both ways, wondering where the fuck to go.
I take off toward the other side of the front road, but my shoe slips on the gravel and I come down hard, my knees and palms slamming into the rocky ground.
It hurts like fucking hell on my already injured palm.
“Fuck,” I whimper. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—”
I glance behind me and the guy is right there.
“Are you another Petrov spy?” the redhead says. There are tears streaming down his face, and he reaches into his pocket, brandishing a gun and holding it up at me.
A moment later, Roman bounds around the corner and tackles him onto the ground.
A gunshot rings out, but it misses, hitting one corner of the house and missing me by many feet. I scramble up, running back toward the car and taking cover behind it, peeking around the corner.
Yegor walks over, leveling his pistol at the redhead.
“He’s going to kill you all for this,” the redhead is blubbering now. “You think this is going to work out? You’re so goddamn wrong.”
Yegor’s aim is disturbingly accurate.
I shout as one bullet hits the guy in his temple, and the next at the center of his head, right in the same spot he got the other man. Roman is still holding the guy’s legs down, just a few inches away from where Yegor was shooting.
Too close.
Way too fucking close.
“You are impulsive, Yegor,” Roman says. “We could have waited at least five minutes more.”
Blood is spilling from the guy out onto the gravel.
Roman stands up, dusting off his hands, and steps away, immediately running over to find me beside the car.
“Tate. Are you okay?” he asks me.
“What the fuck?” I whisper, my throat dry as I try to speak. “What… the… fuck?”
“I will explain later. These were bad men, Tate. I promise you. You aren’t in danger, and you aren’t going to get in trouble. Just get in the car.”
Some of the adrenaline wears off, but as it does, my hands start to shake.
I get back into the passenger seat of the car, feeling like I just stepped into a dream.
This can’t be real.
But it is, without a doubt.
“Clean up your mess,” I overhear Roman’s other cousin saying to Yegor. “We need to get out of here.”