Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
I kissed his cheek and nipped at his neck. I remember that his skin is salty, but I need to know what his mouth tastes like.
“I do know you,” I say. “And I know that despite your incessant need to play by the rules, if I give you this detonator and tell you to imagine it’s me you’re blowing up, that you’ll do it.” I hold up the device for him to take.
He hesitates before taking it, and then I reach to put his safety glasses in place.
“As much as I’d like to deny it, this might be therapeutic.” He clicks the detonator, and the C4 goes off, but neither of us sees it. Our eyes are still locked on each other.
Debris shoots up into the air, and heat from the explosion blasts in our direction, but we don’t move an inch.
“Feel better?” I ask.
“Nope. I think my body was hoping for a different explosion.”
Fuck. Me.
“Is that an invitation?” I rasp.
Please say yes. Please give me this opportunity …
Dylan’s dark brown eyes give me nothing. No invitation, no pushing away. They’re pleading with me for something, but it could be to make a move or to spare him from this torture and to treat this like I normally would—with playful innuendo that goes one step too far so he’ll back off.
Before I can decipher it or make a move, my phone blares from my pocket. “Motherfucker, this better be important.” I fish it out and hit Answer. “What?”
“Uh … umm. Hi.” Saint sounds unsure, and okay, I find it kind of cute that he’s still scared of me. It makes me take an easier tone.
“What’s up?”
“I think I found a connection.”
My gaze meets Dylan’s once again, but I quickly turn my back to him and stalk away, putting enough distance between us so he can’t overhear. “Connection to who?”
“You’re not going to believe this. He’s connected to Councilman Rowling.”
“He’s what?” I hiss. “We’ve been following that guy for over a year, and he hasn’t stepped one foot wrong.” The whole reason I was sending some of my guys to Vegas was to tail him in Sin City, hoping he’d slip up, but Dylan’s shit is more important than Rowling. Or I thought it was. Maybe it’s all connected. “Where are Zeus, Atlas, and Iris at? Maybe they should have gone to Vegas after all.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Saint says.
“No?”
“We were following the wrong Rowling.”
“What do you mean?”
“Rowling’s son. He’s Walker’s godchild. So Rowling and Walker have to be close, but there’s nothing directly between them. They do, however, both talk to Rowling’s nineteen-year-old son a lot. That’s the connection.”
“Does the kid have a record?”
“Clean. Unless there’s some juvie stuff that’s been sealed.”
“Look into it and get back to me.”
“On it.” There’s a beat of silence.
“Was there something else?” I ask.
“Uh, yeah, but I don’t really want to tell you. Just how vigilant are you with the don’t shoot the messenger rule? Because—”
“You’ll get in more trouble if you keep things from me, so spill it.”
“The CCTV footage is in.” Saint hesitates. “But you’re not going to like it.”
“Why not?”
“Didn’t Rodriguez say his boss showed up after the shooting started?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“He’s not on the footage at all. The only cars going into that lot—even the street—during the commotion are the yellow Camaro and the Subaru.”
I pause. “Any chance of tampering?”
“Possibly, but I’m not really trained in spotting that kind of thing.”
“Send it to Ghost to do his magic, and tell us if it’s been digitally altered, and make sure I get a copy too.”
“No problem.”
“Oh, and Saint?”
“Yeah, boss?”
“Good work.” I end the call. Saint’s still settling in with the team, and I try to give positive reinforcement where I can with my guys.
He was used to a strict regime where he had to suck it up and act tough even during the hard times. I’m not like that. Mental health is every bit as important as physical health, or that’s how you lose men. The military never understood that. Or they didn’t care.
“What’s the news?” Dylan asks behind me.
I turn. “No new developments.”
“Bullshit. You’ve got something.”
I start packing up the supplies. “And that’s between me and my men. You know, if you ever wanted to join Mike Bravo, I know someone who can get you in.” I force a cavalier attitude and wink at him. It’s not that I don’t want to tell him, but … well, I don’t want to tell him. I want Ghost’s word that the footage wasn’t tampered with before I go accusing him of lying because I believe him when he says Walker was there. Proving it is another issue. “I’m still waiting for the day you really do go rogue for me. Put down the badge and pick up an illegal modified automatic weapon with me. You know you want to.”