Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
“Easy, tiger,” he snaps, punching me right in the face.
I fall, hit my head, and catch a brief glimpse of the stars before unconsciousness takes me.
When I wake, my life is over.
My mom is dead. My dad is dead.
Mira is a shell-shocked, dead-eyed version of the girl she used to be.
CHAPTER 1
RHETT
One Year Later
Iglance in the rearview mirror at the scumbag with his hands tied behind his back. I should stuff a rag in his mouth and duct-tape the bastard so I don’t have to listen to his complaining. But somehow, that feels like taking the easy way out.
I need to face what I’m doing. Face the man I’ve become.
The night closes in all around us. There are lots of roads out in Gunnison Peaks, lots of mountains, lots of places to hide.
The man in the backseat has been recruiting girls and women into his business.
“How long do you think I’ll get?” he says, running his tongue over chapped lips. He’s in his mid-thirties, but you wouldn't be able to tell by his raggedy mop of greasy hair, faded tattoos covering his hands, arms, and neck, just about visible under layers of dirt.
I say nothing, just take another turn. Drumming my fingers on the steering wheel as the urge to bust his mouth wide open grips me.
“They picked me up before, you know, big man,” he goes on. “So, you can spare me the wannabe strong-silent crap. Because it ain’t going to mean a damn thing when this is all said and done. You’re not the hero in this story.”
I almost laugh. He’s not wrong there. There are no heroes in this story.
I stopped believing in knights in shining armor when I left the police force. When I realized that the law wasn’t going to handle what needed to be handled, how it needed to be handled.
“What’s the score, eh? You angry because I didn’t offer you some? I’ve got any type of girl, man. Anything you want.”
My teeth hurt from grinding. That’s just one of the prices I pay for living this new life. Doing what I do. Taking out the trash, so to speak.
He’s quiet for a while. Shuddering as he rests his face against the window and stares out at the total darkness.
“Didn’t know there was a police station all the way out here,” he mutters.
“There isn’t,” I grunt.
He lets out a noise halfway between a laugh and a sob. “Some kind of scare tactic, eh? You said you were a bounty hunter.”
I am a bounty hunter. It was a traditional trajectory. Military-cop-bounty hunter. Except along the way, I learned some problems require non-traditional solutions.
“I won’t do it again, man,” he blubbers when he realizes I wasn’t kidding.
We’re at the begging stage, then. They all get there eventually.
“I swear,” he goes on. “Jesus Christ. I made a mistake.”
A mistake. It never ceases to amaze me. What men will do, the evil acts they’ll commit, then try to chalk it up to a mistake.
Another turn. More darkness. He knows what’s coming now.
He strains against the bindings fixing him to the seat. Spits into the front of the car. His entire face turns red.
“You’ve got no idea who you’re fucking with!”
I let him have his moment. Let him believe he can rage and whine his way out of this. But there’s no escape. Not for him and not for me. We’re both locked onto this path, bound by our dark deeds. The difference is that mine has a purpose.
That doesn’t make sleeping at night any easier, though. That doesn’t stop the demons from chasing me.
The sun is bleeding through the trees when I toss the shovel into the back of my pickup and climb into the driver’s seat. My muscles are aching. It’s an unavoidable aspect of my line of work.
Marshall calls me as I drive back toward the town proper. Gunnison Peaks is tucked away in the near wilds of Colorado, enough mountain to make me feel isolated.
“Morning,” I say.
“Notice you left out the good,” he replies, in his usual jovial voice.
I say nothing. He leaves a pause, then sighs. I think he misses the old version of Rhett. The version who bantered and joked, before it all became too damn much.
“We were thinking of taking a trip up to the Peaks soon,” he goes on. “Wanted to know if you’d want to come by for some food? Catch up? It’s been too long.”
That’s true. Marshall and I used to see each other every day when we worked in the same police department.
I inject some good humor into my voice. He’s my best friend, after all. “That would be great,” I tell him.
He laughs darkly. “That was almost convincing.”
“No, I mean it. I’d love to see you all.”
I should see more of him, but I’ve isolated myself. Tell myself it makes me powerful. Makes me bulletproof. He’s only a two-hour drive away. But I keep making excuses.