Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 109640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Decker, Rez and Finn never should’ve taken him along. They should’ve known they’d find Sadie either dead or badly abused.
Though, they had no idea they’d find her corpse defiled. It was most likely seeing her in that condition that pushed him over the edge.
Crew pulled himself back to the present when Cross said, “We’re here for you. No matter how bad it gets. But none of us have the skill or experience needed to truly help you.”
“I’m fine.”
“Christ almighty!” Crew bellowed. “You’re not. Did you forget we knew you before…” He swallowed the next words and pivoted. “We knew you when you were fine. You are far from that now, brother. You can keep saying that, but it’s all bullshit.”
Jamison glared at him.
Crew closed his eyes and took a breath. His heart was no longer aching but burning.
When Jamison went over to Nox, he stared at what the BAMC prez was holding in his hand.
“Take them,” Jamison demanded.
Nox did, but reluctantly.
Crew already knew what they were because everyone had a discussion about it beforehand. One was a business card to a cognitive behavioral therapist. The other was a pamphlet for a grief support group.
Not the same group he had attended right after Jackie’s death, since he never shared the reason why he stopped going to that one. They had found another group specifically for spouses and loved ones of law enforcement and military, whether lost in the line of duty or not. Crew hoped it would be a better fit, even though his late wife had been neither.
Jamison had reached out to the person leading the group and they said he was welcome to attend since it was also open to law enforcement personnel experiencing loss, as well.
After a quick glance at the info, Nox asked, “I get to pick?”
“No,” Jamison answered. “You’re going to do both.”
Crew took a long ride after the “intervention” was over. He needed to clear his head and hoped it would help his heartburn pass. He even hit the highway so he could open up Silver Foxy and feel all her power and speed.
He hated the fact that they had to ambush Nox like that. To Crew, it bordered on betrayal. As it did to Nox. But still…
If it meant saving their brother, it was necessary. Despite what Nox thought.
The man did not look happy when they finally let him go. It was also concerning that, instead of heading back up to his apartment, he walked out the door, straddled his bike and sped away.
Maybe he was doing the same as Crew. Blowing off some steam.
They considered having someone follow him, but both he and Jamison agreed to let him have time alone to process.
They did what they could do and only hoped in the end it would all work out.
He hoped to fuck it would all work out.
Just like the Cabrera situation.
Without planning it, he found himself at Fletch’s house. After parking Foxy in the driveway, he used his house key to go inside.
Since she hadn’t returned yet, he figured he’d wait and help her unload the truck.
He went out to the pool, settled on a lounge chair, watched the setting sun turn the sky into various shades of color, released a long sigh and closed his eyes...
Something wet nudged his hand and it flopped up before it dropped.
What the fuck?
That same something snuffled his side, then a warm, wet washcloth licked his neck.
His eyes popped open and he sat straight up, pushing what was definitely not a washcloth away, and wiped at the dampness on his skin with his hand.
He was surprised to find that night had fallen, and he must have dozed off.
With a groan, he tried to stand but it took a few seconds for his body to catch up with his intention. It no longer worked like it did twenty years ago.
The dog’s tail wagged back and forth slowly as the four-legged monster grinned up at him. “I assume you’re Murphy.”
Murphy’s tail wagged a little faster and he released a little woof.
Once Crew managed to stand, the dog just about knocked him over when the moose leaned into him. “I bet she doesn’t walk you. You walk her.”
The rear spotlights came on and blinded him for a second, then Murphy’s owner stepped out of the back door, calling out, “I thought I recognized that Harley.”
“Jesus, is this a dog or a rough-coated pony?”
“Do you know any pony that eats dog food?”
“Do you know any ponies?” he countered.
“No, but I had one on my wish list every Christmas and birthday during my childhood.”
“With the size of that animal, it looks like you got your wish.” He headed toward the house with Murphy at his side. “What are you wearing?”
She was wearing worn jeans that fit her way better than they should, sneakers and… When she bent over to pat Murphy’s side, he saw what was emblazoned on the back of her black T-shirt.