Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Guiding Gentry up to the dock itself is easy. Trust has been built – which is why he doesn’t flinch when I exchange the rifle for a pistol from the nearest dead body – a bond strengthened – thanks to making misshapen dinosaurs and talking about superheroes – and reliability reinforced each time we weave around one of the dropped enemies. Blu stays far enough ahead during our exit of the watercraft that his presence doesn’t disturb the child’s collected demeanor yet not so far that it screams danger, stop proceeding.
The instant his parents are in sight he prepares to take off running, an action that I stop by clamping my hand down a little tighter on his shoulder. “Just one minute, big guy. Dad has to sign some papers first.”
Gilbert and Debbie prepare to lunge for us when Blu steps in their way preventing their progress.
“Move!” Debbie immediately squeaks at the same time she tries to rush past him. “That’s my son! That’s my son!”
“I am well aware that is your son, Mrs. Timbers,” my partner professionally comments as our movements halt a respectable distance behind him.
“Give him to me then!”
“I-”
“Now!” She squawks, more forcefully.
“Please, calm down, Mrs. Timbers,” Brittanie Martindale, one of our female field administrators, insists in an even tone. “Your hostile tone is unnecessary and unhelpful.”
Blonde bombshell in bed but mega bitch at the office.
I personally think it’s to overcompensate for how easy it is to get her on her back in bed – or in my case the backseat of my truck – while Blu is convinced it’s because she’s been stabbed too many times in the back – metaphorically and once physically.
Debbie screeches yet again, “Excuse-”
“No,” Brittanie interrupts with a pointed finger, “I am not interested in another emotional outburst that can be avoided by Mr. Timbers just signing here,” she taps the space on her tablet, “to complete the contract.”
“Sign!” His wife screams like a banshee.
“Your mom always like this kiddo?” I casually ask, voice directed at him, but gaze focused dead ahead.
“Loud?” Gentry innocently inquires as he looks up at me. “Or yelling at Dad?”
Not smiling is probably harder than it should be. “Both.”
“Uh-huh,” he immediately informs. “She’s always both.”
“Are you finished?!” Debbie questions, hands fanning her overly faked tan complexion. “Tell me we’re finished! I wanna hold my son! I neeeeeed to hold my son!”
Brittanie releases a heartless hum. “I’m sure he wants that too after being held for ransom for six days.” Debbie doesn’t get in another word before Brittanie makes eye contact again. “The transfer is now complete.” She politely gestures for Blu to move. “Thank you for doing business with Haworth Enterprises. It’s been a pleasure reuniting you with your loved one.”
Debbie’s high-pitched shriek of outrage falls on deaf ears along with Brittanie’s backside considering our field administrator and her security detail are already headed back to their vehicle. My partner steps out of the way and shoots me a simple nod to relinquish my hold.
“You’re good to go,” I state on a gentle pat to his shoulder. “Enjoy sleepin’ in your own bed, big guy.”
Lord knows that was the thing I missed most right after my parents.
Hell, I still occasionally get nightmares about that period of my life when I have to sleep on the floor.
I don’t wish that shit on anyone.
His genuine gratitude is expressed in his rapid goodbye waving along with his tone. “Thanks, Wahl!”
The grin he’s tossed is warm yet professional. “Anytime, kid.”
He takes off running, and rather than move a muscle or even indicate that I’m going to, I watch.
I wait.
I stay frozen in place until his arms are around them and theirs are around him because this is the reason, I do the shit I do.
Yeah, it’s nice having enough cash to keep my ma comfortable now that she’s stopped working, pay my own way on vacations with my dad’s side, maintain my top of the line truck, and sustain my luxury penthouse situation but all that pales in comparison to this feeling that’s swimming around my veins right now.
The one that money can’t buy.
The high that only comes from making an innocent child’s life better the same way someone once did for you.
And what I like most about doing this shit for the private sector versus the alternative?
I don’t have to quit because some overhead asshole has decided it’s been too long or this case is more important or that case might get us better results or a new one has more resources being funneled to it so it matters more.
No.
I don’t ever have to quit.
I get to finish.
I get to finish every mission I start, just like the men my father eventually hired to find and rescue me.
Ironically enough, I now work for that same company.
What goes around, comes around some might say.