Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 151345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 605(@250wpm)___ 504(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 605(@250wpm)___ 504(@300wpm)
The moment they rounded up Callendine’s crew, they would shut everything down, but for now, they could only try dismantling the bombs as they found them and hope they had time before Callendine realized his own unit was compromised.
Jorganson had to restrain himself from pushing his way through the crowd of sheep. That’s what they were, nothing but fucking sheep, blatting on and on about peace. There was no peace. There would never be peace. These same people would piss themselves if they were ever in a real situation where they had to fight for themselves or someone else. They wouldn’t do it. They would cry like babies and expect someone else to take care of them and then they’d condemn them. Hell was coming and they deserved it.
He managed to keep from shoving an older woman dressed from head to toe in a colorful sari; she walked with grace, but so damn slow he wanted to scream at her. It wasn’t like the bomb was going off soon, but Callendine wanted them well away so there was no chance of them being identified or near the convention center when it blew. He wanted them, if possible, on a plane, in the air. He had to get to his car. He’d rented a sports car and had parked it in the parking garage just up the street on the lower floor. He liked the car and looked forward to driving it one last time. He concentrated on that as he moved around another group of people.
Someone jostled him and that pushed him into a young woman. She was a cute little thing with red hair and incredible dark eyes. She caught at his wrist to keep from falling as she stumbled. For one second, he thought he felt a jab through his glove on his left hand, but her fingernails weren’t long and she looked almost dainty.
“I’m so sorry,” she murmured and moved away, back into the group of peace-minded people.
He was almost sorry she was one of those sheep. He kept walking briskly, now that he was out in the open and he could breathe without taking in the stench of sheep. He made it all the way to his car before he realized he wasn’t feeling much in the way of his body. No pain at all, but it was almost as if he was paralyzed. He could barely move. He sank behind the wheel of the sporty car and reached for the starter, but his arms didn’t want to work. The paralysis was real. It slowly consumed his entire body until he was incapable of speech or even thinking. It continued until his brain could no longer tell his body to breathe and his heart refused to pump.
It’s done. Cone snail venom amped up like only Whitney can do it, Amaryllis confessed. Coming back in my red wig and nice little getup.
Malichai didn’t want her to come back. She was much safer away from there. The cameras were picking up all sides of the building and the teams were spread out and moving from main support to support in the hopes of finding more of the bombs. They were certain there would be six of them. Three were being taken care of. There were three more.
“At the back exit. Closer to the hotel. I almost missed him. Ray Valli,” Avery identified. “I’m sorry. Can you get your people there in time?”
Bellisia? Can you get to the back exit? Ray Valli is there. White shirt. Jeans. Cowboy boots. He’s moving away fast.
I can take him, Bellisia assured.
Malichai nodded to Avery but didn’t look away from the screen. Joe, he’s at the back entrance. We knew they would have to block that as well.
They’d done a mock-up of how they would blow the buildings and take out as many people as possible. Controlling the front and back exits was essential.
I’m on it. Joe’s voice was grim. I was already looking around back here. There’s a dark hallway I’m certain he came out of. I heard a door open and close. Damn it, bomb’s here, and it’s a mother.
Ray Valli wanted to get away from the convention center as quickly as possible. He’d questioned the orders more than once to the others. They just didn’t make sense to him. He knew the orders had come from the White House. Callendine had told him. The others had reassured him over and over, but these people were citizens of the United States. Okay, not all of them, but the majority. Weren’t they the ones they were sworn to protect? He set the bomb just like he was instructed, but he wanted to tell the families to take their kids and run. He didn’t. He just stared at them, imagining them with their bodies in pieces. That made him sick. He’d seen enough of that shit in other countries. He didn’t need to see it in his own—especially when he was the one responsible.