Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Jackson feels the gradual dulling of his edge, the growing whisper of doubt, and the tiny cracks in his confidence from carrying the world—his world—on his shoulders for so long. He no longer feels an unwavering certainty of the outcome. However, his unshakable determination keeps him moving because the one thing he knows with conviction is that he will do this or die trying.
“Livy and Wylder will get me killed. Thinking about them is like—”
“Removing the part of your vest that covers your heart,” Jackson interrupts to finish the phrase he heard a million times during his training. They don’t think about the people they love. There’s no room for vulnerability, and love is the most vulnerable emotion.
“I’ll take the back three. You take the front three,” Slade says, grabbing his night vision goggles as the last of the day’s light vanishes. “Three shots, no more than a few seconds apart. Anything longer, any hesitation, and we’re—”
“We’re going to burn it down,” Jackson says, eyeing the vast array of landscaping lights illuminating the property.
“What?”
“There are too many cameras. Someone’s live monitoring the feed. Maybe in the house, maybe at a remote location. Since we can’t cut the power, we will set it on fire. The 9-1-1 response time is approximately twenty minutes this far out in the country. So from the time the alarms sound, we have fifteen minutes to make the kills and remove … any hostages.”
And he knows Frankie would want the house to burn.
“Smoke out?”
“Yes,” Jackson says, plodding back toward the vehicles for fuel.
“It will obscure our view,” Slade calls, following him.
“And it will obscure their view as well. But first, it will draw them away from the house so we can take them out without cameras catching us.” When he reaches his car, he retrieves a drone.
“Ariel view?”
He shakes his head. “I’m going to drop fireballs on the roof.”
“Where did you get that?”
“I made it after seeing them used for prescribed fires. There are fifty balls in here.”
“Won’t they roll off the roof?”
“They ignite on impact. There won’t be anything to roll.”
“Smart.”
Jackson smirks, feeling oddly gratified by Slade’s compliment. “Aren’t you going to ask me how I know where to drop them?”
“No. If you don’t have the layout of his house memorized, then I will lose what little respect I have for you.”
Jackson shuts the trunk. “At least one of us has respect for the other.”
“Livy didn’t get pregnant right away. I had to stick my dick in her a half dozen times a day for a solid two weeks every month before—”
Jackson pulls out his handgun and presses it to Slade’s forehead. “If you ever use the word ‘dick’ in the same breath as my daughter’s name, I’m going to cross another thing off my bucket list.”
“You’re such a morbid fuck.”
Jackson drops his hand and pounds his boots back into the field toward the house. He’s never known where the line’s been with Slade. Jackson killed his father because Slade’s father did some unforgivable things to Jackson’s family. They’ve never discussed it. And he can’t imagine the day will ever come when there’s a need to mention it. Still, it’s hard to point a gun at Slade without recalling the day he put a bullet in his father’s head. And occasionally, like a few seconds ago, Jackson can’t help but wonder if Slade looks at him and thinks of him as the man who killed his father more than the man partially responsible for bringing Livy into this world—into Slade’s world.
“When we get into the house, I take Sanford, and you take any hostages,” Jackson says.
Francesca. They both know there’s only one hostage, and her name is Francesca.
“Don’t dick around. Once I get her out, I won’t return for you.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Jackson says, deploying the drone toward the house.
“Don’t die, old man,” Slade says, continuing toward the house, fully armed.
“Well,” Jackson mumbles while the drone approaches the roof, “we’re all going to die, eventually.” When the first fireball illuminates, Jackson grabs his gun in one hand and his knife in his other hand while taking long strides toward the house.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
FRANCESCA
When the door clicks open, I don’t turn toward it. I don’t even open my eyes.
It’s just a body.
When a large hand grips my arm, pulling me to my feet, I squeeze my eyes shut tighter.
It’s just a body.
I let my thoughts slip away, back to the previous night with Jack. His hands on my skin. His mouth fused to mine.
Music.
Dancing.
And love.
“Do you love me, Francesca?”
My ass hits the piano, a jumble of keys making a discordant cacophony. Everything beautiful about music prepares to die.
Don’t open your eyes.
“Fight me. Make my dick hard,” Archer says, cutting the ties around my ankles and my wrists.
I have no fight left inside of me. The gravity of this moment disappears, and I float.