Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
“Sure, is everything okay?” he asked.
“No, but it will be. Can you bring the black van, the one Red uses to run errands?”
Caleb must’ve checked to see if the van was in the parking lot of the clubhouse because he paused before replying, “Sure, I’ll bring it.”
“Great, I’ll see you soon. And Caleb—?”
“Yeah?”
“Drive fast.”
When I hung up I went to the window and checked the parking lot. It was clear. There were no cars or guests, and the street was empty. Crossing the room, I picked up Cassidy’s bag, stopping to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She was trembling.
“Caleb’s coming with the van. It’ll be safer transporting you to the clubhouse in it than riding on the back of my bike, okay?”
“The clubhouse?”
“I’m taking you back with me. We’ll work out where to go from there.”
“You don’t need to do this. Getting involved is dangerous.”
Her voice was calmer, but I could see the violent pounding of her pulse in her neck.
“Danger is my middle name, sweetheart.” I gave her a wink, and a weak smile tugged at her lips. “Let’s get you out to the clubhouse. Then we’ll work out what comes next.”
The drive from the clubhouse to the Black Cherry Inn was twenty minutes. Caleb got there in twelve. He didn’t ask any questions, but judging by the look he gave me I had a lot of explaining to do once we were alone.
“You take her in the van with you, and I’ll follow behind on my bike,” I said to my younger brother.
When Cassidy was in the safety of the van, I quickly visited the motel office and slipped the manager fifty bucks for his silence.
“If anyone asks you who was in that room—”
“I’ll tell them it was an out of town businessman here with a lady friend.”
“And his name?”
“George Brown. Probably an alias. Arrived by cab. Paid cash. Checked out early.”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
“No,” he said. “Thank you, soldier.”
His words stopped me.
“I know who you are,” he explained. “My son was a marine. I know the SEALs provided our marines with the critical cover they needed while over there. I know what you did, what you saw, the decisions you had to make with only seconds to decide. My son would write home about it. He was good writer. Used to tell me what went on over there before he …”
He didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t have to. I knew the look on his face, knew what it meant. His son never made it back.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “This country has lost a lot of good men.”
He nodded regretfully, the pain still ripe on his face. “You have my unwavering respect, sir. Thank you for serving our country.”
His appreciation was unexpected and evoked an uncharacteristic surge of emotion in me. But my face remained rigid. My eyes hard. My teeth clamped together. I gave him a sharp, albeit appreciative nod before I turned and disappeared out the door.
I felt humbled by his appreciation. Grateful. But I put it behind me the moment I stepped onto the pavement. Because he was right. I was a SEAL. A trained observer who noticed what other people didn’t. And I couldn’t afford for any emotion to distract me or cloud my instinct.
Because a devil was coming to town, and I knew they only responded to fight and force. You had to face them head-on and take them out with lethal precision.
Yeah, I knew a thing or two about devils.
Because I was the son of one.
CASSIDY
They took me back to the Kings of Mayhem clubhouse. Caleb parked the van next to a row of gleaming Harley Davidsons. Before I knew it, the passenger door swung open and Chance appeared.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Dude, you really think my driving is that bad?” Caleb joked as he climbed out and closed the door behind him. “She’s fine.”
“Thanks for your help,” Chance said to him.
Caleb nodded. “Anytime.” He looked at me and his face filled with gentle empathy. “Whatever is going on with you, darlin’, you’re safe with him.”
I bit back tears. He was being kind and it was the straw that broke the camel’s back on this overly emotional Wednesday morning. He threw the keys to Chance and then winked at me before sauntering away.
“I’m going to pack up a few belongings and get us some supplies from the kitchen,” Chance said as we approached the entrance to the clubhouse.
“We’re not staying here?”
“The clubhouse is not a long-term solution. Guests are usually only permitted to stay one night.” He guided me out of the sunshine and inside the building, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. “My grandmother has a cabin on the river just out of town. We can stay there until we work out what you want to do. Okay?”