Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
And that was how I ended up watching her go into her dad’s house alone, then putting my lead foot down to blow off some of my anger over being forced to leave her in the care of someone else.
The tires on my truck squealed as I raced into the parking lot of the hospital. I parked and hopped out, wincing when I landed hard on my injured leg. But I ignored it, and as soon as I spotted Cash, Stirling, and Heath talking by the entrance, I hurried toward them as fast as I could.
“What’s going on?”
“Deacon went in to talk to his contact. He told us to wait here,” Stirling informed me.
Cash, another SEAL on my team, crossed his arms over his huge chest and frowned. “Your man is Gary Pratt. Former Seaman Apprentice. Dishonorably discharged two months ago for beating the shit out of another sailor. He swore up and down that the guy was a terrorist, but it was the last straw after a string of write-ups, so they booted him. From what Deacon found out, it sounds as though he found out that some sailors have fully recovered after having a psychiatric service animal. If I had to guess, I’d say he went after Tucker because he convinced himself he’d be able to get back into the Navy. He—”
Deacon burst out the doors and shouted for us to come with him.
We followed him through the lobby and a set of double doors that opened to a long, sterile hallway.
“They tried to put the bastard under to do surgery on his leg, and he flipped his shit. Somehow, he got a gun underneath him, so now he’s holding up the operating room.”
“Fucking hell,” I grunted as I hurried down the hall, trying to keep up with my teammates. None of them offered to assist me because they damn well knew I wouldn’t put up with a fucking insult like that.
“What about hospital security?” Stirling queried.
“They’re there, trying to talk the asshole down. But this isn’t a military hospital, they haven’t got experience with guys like this. I have a hunch that there’s not gonna be a peaceful solution to this.”
“We have to find out where he’s stashed Tucker,” I ordered.
“I think I have a line on Tucker, but let’s see if we can break the man for confirmation first.”
As we neared the end of the hall, multiple voices yelling echoed off the walls.
“Get away, you motherfucking traitors! You’re not gonna get away with this!”
A shot rang out, and several people screamed.
“Mr. Pratt! You need to put the gun—”
“SEAMAN PRATT to you, motherfucking bitch!”
We all drew out weapons—silencers already attached—as we approached the doors that led to the room where Pratt was holding everyone hostage.
As much as I fucking hated it, my injury made me a liability, so I pointed at another door, and when Heath read the sign, I muttered, “Hooyah,” in acknowledgment.
A set of stairs led up to a viewing room through the door. Bleacher-type seating faced a huge picture window, allowing everyone in the space to watch what was happening below.
“Pratt is across the room,” I told them through the Bluetooth speaker in my ear. “Starboard, holding a nurse, but he’s waving the gun around, not pointing it at her.” Not that either one of those options was preferable to the other since an accidental shot could hit anyone.
“The doctors and nurses huddle next to the door you are outside, starboard. And the two security guards are portside the same door.”
I glanced around the room and spied another entrance. “There’s another door on the wall behind his back. Approximately two feet to his left.”
“Cash, Heath, go find a way to that door,” Deacon ordered.
I glanced around the window until I found what I was looking for and hurried over to the small white box on the wall. I pressed the speak button. “Gary. This is Lieutenant Truett. Stand down, sailor.”
Gary’s wild eyes flew up and around the room. “Where are you? What’s going on?”
Interrogation was one of my specialties in the Navy. And one thing any decent negotiator or interrogator knew, go for the easy way first. See if you can break them without force. “Seaman Pratt, we need you to debrief us on this incident.”
“But…” He looked confused for a moment, then he started waving the gun again. “Traitors, sir! They’re all traitors. They’re trying to break me with their drugs. But I’m not gonna say a fucking word!”
“I know you won’t, sailor. I’ll have my best men come back you up. They’ll take these traitors to the brig. But I need you to stand down.”
“I don’t—I…” He was breathing hard, and his agitated state had me worried about his trigger finger. “What about my dog, sir?”
Excellent. “We can bring him to you,” I offered. “How about we meet you at the barracks? Just tell me where to find…what is your companion’s name, sailor?”