Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57237 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57237 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Sid and whoever was in the crew that’d helped out had stayed behind in Ecuador for a training exercise, so the twins were flying commercial and on their own. Their last transfer had been in Houston, and I assumed they were beyond exhausted.
We’d give them that hug, congratulate them properly, then probably get them pizza or some other takeout before we drove them home.
“I don’t know, Daddy,” my boy sighed. “I feel like we at least should’ve gotten them glow-in-the-dark rubbers or something.”
I side-eyed him, then shook my head in amusement.
We were finally at the airport, and I cut off a cocky cab driver on my way to the arrivals.
Don’t get any ideas, you fucking git.
“I don’t think we’re allowed to park here,” Danny said.
“I have a fake permit that says otherwise,” I replied.
Actually, it wasn’t fake; it just didn’t apply to airport pickups. But whatever. We’d be here ten minutes instead of five. Big whoop.
These were the perks of working with government agencies from time to time.
As I pulled over to the curb, I leaned over to open the glove compartment, and I dug out my “for government use only” permit that included parking in no-parking zones. Cheers, DoD.
“My Daddy’s a bad guy,” Danny mused. “And all this time, I thought I was on the right side of history.”
I smooched his cheek before leaving the permit on the dashboard. “Leave the gifts. We can hand them over later.”
“Yes, Sir.”
With no time to waste, we headed inside the airport as people streamed out, and we aimed for the busiest—
“Over there!” Danny pointed toward a crowd, and I spotted two identical copperheads with duffels thrown over their shoulders. One had a hoodie slung over his other shoulder, and…
I narrowed my eyes. Who the fuck had gotten a tattoo on his neck?
There better not be anything that could identify them.
I bet it was Reese. It seemed like a Reese thing to do. Oh yeah, it was Reese. He spotted us and smirked the way only he could, and he nudged River, who pulled off a signature faint smile instead.
“What is it with this generation and tattoos?” I muttered.
Danny scrunched his nose. “You like mine.”
“I’m biased,” I said.
“You mean blessed,” he said and walked off. “Welcome home, operators!”
Brat.
The twins grinned and accepted a big hug from Danny, and I was quick to join them.
“Thanks, bro,” Reese said.
I eyed the ink on his neck, spotting the skull of a longhorn, some vines, and what looked like a Christmas ornament half submerged in a river that disappeared behind a classic car. Nothing that could be used to pin down their names. Good.
I pulled him in for a hug next, and I clapped him on the back. “Congratulations on your graduation, operator. It’s good to have you home.”
“Thank you, sir.” He smiled and rubbed the back of his neck as I eased off, and I went to give River the same treatment.
“Operator. I heard you finished in second place.” I gave him a squeeze. “I’m damn proud of you both.”
“We couldn’t have done it without you, sir. And thank you for pickin’ us up.”
“We would’ve insisted,” Danny told him. “Now, we propose pizza before you get some rest.”
“Perfect order of our priorities.” Reese yawned and threw an arm around Danny’s shoulders. “Y’all’re welcome to spend the night at our place if you leave the door open.”
I laughed. That fucking boy. Some things never changed.
September 11, 2001
“Well, it’s too late now, innit? He’s already made up his mind.” I signed the last form and handed it over to Paul. We were almost at the cafeteria, and I was in need of coffee and breakfast. Danny and I had overslept, so we’d missed out on my stellar oatmeal creation. “But between you and me, he should’ve opted for the second location in Jordan. Now we gotta cross into Turkey in order to—”
“Shut the fuck up!” I heard Danny and Reese yell at the same time.
I lifted my brows and exchanged a quick look with Paul. He was as confused as I was, so we hurried into the cafeteria and were met by the strangest sight. Maybe fifteen or so people stood around—no one was sitting—and watched the TVs that were set up here and there.
“Em!” Danny saw me and was seemingly rooted in place. There was something in his eyes that put me on edge. Something was wrong. Something was really fucking wrong.
I strode over to him and saw a similar look on other guys’ faces too. Shock, resignation, jaws clenched in anger—
“Why the fuck are they talking about small propeller planes?” someone blurted out. “You fucking see the second passenger plane right there!”
Danny grabbed my hand tightly, very tightly, and I followed his gaze to the nearest TV mere feet away.
“…another eyewitness report saying there was, in fact, a second plane—and we’re going to… Yes, there we have the other angle. Both towers have suffered explosions, and as Tony said, it seems to be around the eightieth floor…”