Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 79749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
There were days I let the things Damien told me sink inside. It was easier to be mad, to let myself think that the man who died because of me did so without any love in his heart for me. I considered it less of a sacrifice, less of a loss that way. It was one of the few ways I could convince myself that losing him wasn't the worst thing that ever happened to me.
But it never quite reached my heart. I never stopped loving Nolan. How could I when he gave me the best thing that has ever happened to me?
Losing Eli would be the end of me. There isn't a second I could survive knowing my son was gone, and if it comes to that, there won't be that much time, after, that would exist for me.
Chapter 33
Jericho
"Three in the front. Another two in the back and five souls inside," Jersey says when we join the other team two blocks from the address we were given through the IP address controlling the security system.
"There are seven bedrooms," Casper says through our mics. "From the heat sensors we have, it looks like there's one adult in the basement with a child."
My skin itches to get inside and tear that motherfucker limb from limb.
"You can't keep me outside," I say to Hemlock when he locks eyes on me.
"I know," he says with a gentle dip of his head that gives me permission to be a part of my son's rescue.
"Thank you," I tell him, knowing what a big deal this is.
"Entry is going to be hard," Lark says. "The house is situated on a hill, and I don't doubt that he's going to have his team take pot shots at everyone who gets close."
"We've put two sharpshooters in place," Hemlock says, placing a tablet on the hood of the SUV. "Here and here."
We all watch as he points to the two spots on the map. We'll have to orient ourselves with our surroundings very quickly, and that can always lead to errors.
"And if we run into another tripwire?" Lark asks.
"I'll take care of the fucking explosives," Nyx says, and I want to wrap my hands around his fucking throat and squeeze for how he acted with Aspen.
The man looks bored leaning against the side of the SUV, somehow a part of the team but also not, if that makes sense. It's like he doesn't have a care in the world, but I wonder if it's because he honestly doesn't care if he sees another day.
Hemlock nods at Nyx, and I have to have the faith in Nyx that our president does. That's my faith in Hemlock, not the man that has an ass kicking coming soon.
"We'll have the guys take the ones out front and in the back," Lark continues. "And then we can—"
"Excuse me!"
We turn to see a feeble old man walking toward us. We chose this location because there's an empty lot, but it still puts us right in the middle of an occupied neighborhood.
"Are you fellas having trouble finding something?"
"We've got it under control," Hemlock says. "If you could go back into your house."
"Are you guys the SWAT team? I called the police last week about that house three doors down."
I don't bother to follow the point of his finger. It's in the opposite direction of where we're headed in a few minutes.
"I warned him before I called," the old man continues. "It's not like I didn't ask him to keep his trash cans off the sidewalk. It shouldn't be any surprise to him when you knock on his door."
"Sir," Nyx says as he stands to his full height.
The old man who has to be at least a foot and a half shorter than Nyx looks up at him, his lip curled like he won't take any shit off a heathen in his little town.
"It'll take more than you, young man," the old man says, standing a few inches taller.
I swear for the first time in my life, I see Nyx's lip twitch as if he's trying to hold back a smile.
"I was a commander of the 9th Amphibious Brigade in Vietnam in sixty-eight," the old man continues. "Don't let my size fool you. My balls are bigger than your head."
"Yes, sir," Nyx says as he lifts the sleeve of his shirt. I'll be damned if he doesn't have the Marine Corps insignia tattooed on his left bicep.
I can't forgive him completely for what he did but knowing he's a fellow Marine changes things a little.
"We'll take care of the guy with the trash can issue, sir," Hemlock says.
The old man nods at him before turning back and heading across the street to his yard.
"I love old people," Lark says with a quick chuckle.
We spend only another couple of minutes going over finer details about positioning before we head in the direction of the house.