Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
This was important for them to understand. I took a breath when no one jumped in. I had to convince them to take me. My nightmares wouldn’t end unless I saw with my own eyes that Ruin was either in custody or dead. I didn’t have a preference.
I continued. “However, the second time wasn’t my plan. I warned my boss, the team, and my colleagues about how cunning Ruin is. They didn’t listen. Treated me like a clueless junior agent. My only mistake was I didn’t fight hard enough on my position, even though I had. In the end, I was right and got caught again. But make no mistake, whether or not you trust me, I’ve been trained for jobs like this, and when this is all over, I plan to go back to this job.”
It was Shawn who spoke first. “Which is the only reason I hesitate. I spent three months in jail after trying to save your life. This op isn’t exactly legal. Do you want to end up in jail because you aren’t following their rules?”
I’d wondered where he’d been, and just like that, I felt guilty. But now wasn’t the time to apologize for his detainment on my behalf. That would come after Ruin was in jail. “I want my life back. And as long as he walks free, I’m not free.” All the therapy in the world wouldn’t help me if I couldn’t see this through to the end.
Shawn seemed to get it without me explaining and nodded. “Then let’s go over the plan.”
I hadn’t thought it would be that easy to win them over, but I was grateful he didn’t make me feel less or as if I was a liability.
My training kicked in as we huddled in the living room. Any personal issues of mine were thrust into the background. Mental toughness was emphasized as the key to surviving any situation. That part of me took over as Kelsey opened up a computer and Griff laid out the plan.
It was around two in the morning when we left for a mix of industrial and residential areas south of town. This time had been chosen with the hope most people would be asleep since it wasn’t a Friday or Saturday night. There was also the downfall that since there would be so little activity, anyone awake would spot us. It was a risk we decided was worth it. It had been nice to have an equal say in the plan. They hadn’t shrugged off my thoughts or ideas. One of which was to not drive by but to park a block away and go on foot with surveillance.
Kelsey was staying in one of the vans we brought. She and Griffin approached from the east, and Shawn and I approached from the west. But Kelsey would send her super silent high-tech drone before we did anything.
“All clear,” came Kelsey from the comms Griffin fitted us out with. He had more gear than the FBI did on a normal raid. They had outfitted me with a Sig P365, which was similar to the famous Glock most people saw or heard about in movies. Griff had an arsenal from Smith and Wesson to a Ruger. I’d chosen the Sig because it had been like the one my stepfather had taught me to shoot with.
We moved as silently as possible. Still, our steps rang like thunder in the silent night. We stopped at the edge of an alley before the block of row houses that held the one we were looking for. Flattened against the building, we waited while Shawn scoped out the street with his eyes and Kelsey from the drone above.
When Shawn nodded, we moved again until we heard a door open. Griffin and I shifted to get a view. He looked over Shawn’s shoulder while I went in low and looked from around his middle. Three men exited the building. I spotted Ruin and recognized two of the goons with him.
I held my breath as if I let it go, Ruin would hear it. They got in a dark, nondescript sedan and pulled away. It was only then I exhaled. I moved back and leaned on the wall as if it could hold me up. Griffin and Shan spoke in hushed tones and when they approached, I asked, “Are we aborting?”
Shawn shook his head as Griffin said, “The tracker is still active on his car. And following him with so little traffic would give him more opportunity to spot a tale. We go in and see why he was here.”
That made sense. Our dark clothing gave us some cover as we crept forward. We reached the door without causing alarm. If this had been a sanctioned FBI operation, I would have worn easily identifiable clothing. I also would have had a badge and a warrant in my hand. Instead, we used the knob, which didn’t turn. Griffin was quick with lock picks, and we were in.