Page 45 of Overcast

“Can’t talk me out of it now,” I finally say when they turn right on the desolate Highway 25. “Let’s hurry up before the rest get back.”

My truck’s door is already open before my feet hit the gravel of the parking lot. Mills is bitching, but I don’t hear the words that leave his mouth.

All I see is the forest-green exit to the room that my blonde is being kept in.

Leg raised, I blow through the cheap lock and watch it swing back, hitting the wall behind it. I’m through the threshold when I met with the lanky idiot I remember seeing from earlier standing at the driver’s door.

My hand is already twisting his white tee while the other is cocked and carrying out its debut to meet his face.

I only got one lucky shot on him before Planet Fitness—he’s alive because Mills apparently forgot to pop a cap in his ass—pulled out a gun.

It only worked to our advantage because when he took off, we followed.

He didn’t speed here or try to lose us by taking several wrong turns.

Again, amateurs.

Eyes on alert for Stormi, I make my own rookie mistake of glancing around the place for her when the skinny fucker throws back his elbow to blow into my ribcage.

Movement out of my peripheral hints that they’re moving Stormi out of the room. Her light blonde hair annoyingly stands out like a beacon to me at this point.

Shoulder down, I ram my opponent into the wall, rattling hung pictures and the dresser resting against it when a female squeak sounds behind me.

Well, no time like the present. The asshole in front of me, we’re going for a ride.

Pulling him towards me, I shove both of us through the large window of the room, using him as a cushion.

If the shattering of glass falling and flying around us doesn’t cause some kind of ruckus to make people come out of their rooms or away from their fuck sessions, I’m out of options. I need something, anything to make sure Stormi doesn’t leave this parking lot without me.

I’ll worry about how I’m going to explain her pleas later.

We both grunt at the impact and I’m already locked in on Stormi being led to a heavy-duty F-150.

Swiftly crammed into the backseat, one of the men follow her while the other climbs into the driver’s seat. The exhaust rumbles to life as I sprint the few feet and clutch onto the tailgate.

Then a shot rings out.

Fuck.

I can either be drug around by the back bumper or just take my truck.

I go with the latter.

Letting go, my keys are already in the ignition as I hop in, starting it up and throwing it in reverse.

Mills, I have no idea where that ass clown is, but he’s going to have to hang out while I fuck these three’s dream up.

The men barrel down the road, drifting out of the parking lot heading south towards the city as I careen out after them without looking for traffic.

A horn blares, followed by headlights in my eyes before I control my vehicle and straighten out the back tires.

Hitting the gas pedal, I start to reel them in when a bullet hits my windshield, cracking the glass on the passenger side into spiderwebs.

Mills has the only gun with ammo in it—perfect. Because why would this be easy like all my other pursuits?

Running a hand down the side of my face, I keep increasing my speed as we make a sharp turn to the right. I’m about twenty yards away when another gunshot sounds, clipping the hood.

I’ve never liked being shot at; I mean, who would?

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