Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 114260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. It won’t happen again.”
I nod. “Did you do what I asked you to?”
“Yessir.” He was supposed to fire Armand this morning.
“I’m guessing that didn’t go over so well?”
“No, not at all, but it confirmed for me you made the right call.”
The other men watch us. Alma comes into the kitchen and grabs a broom, quickly sweeping up imaginary crumbs. “Did it?”
“Yessir.”
I pour myself a steaming mug of coffee.
“And what was that?”
“That it was time for him to go.” He frowns. “He had nothing but shit to say about all of us in his exit interview.”
“Exit interview?”
“Yeah, my euphemism for the profanities he yelled on his way out the door.”
Why am I not surprised? The clock on the kitchen wall chimes six forty-five. I need to meet her at the range.
“I’ll arrange for his things to be boxed up and shipped. Your job’s done. Thanks, Joe.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Do we have any more information on Skylar?” I’m standing by the door. I don’t like that Armand left angry with us. He could compromise our operation with the right motives.
Joe shakes his head sadly. “No. I checked in with Lottie, and she still hasn’t come home, but there’s no evidence that whoever took her reached out to anyone.”
My hand is on the door to go out.
“How about Derrick Dossier, anyone find any more information on him?”
“I found something encrypted on a server, and we’re working on it. One thing to note is that it does appear he's former military, dishonorably discharged.”
Dishonorably discharged. Just like me.
Christ.
We have a history together; I just don’t know what the fuck it is yet. There’s more to his name than appears.
“Call me the second you find anything.”
“We have a list of the survivors, Mr. Master, and their addresses.”
I turn around to look at Joe. The room’s grown quiet, all eyes on me. “I want a printout when we get back from the shooting range.”
Joe nods. “Yessir.”
Today, we hunt for sources that lead us to Skylar.
Alma pulls a huge pan of steaming hot muffins out of the oven, and several of the men grab them before she can put them on a serving platter.
“Dios mio! You’ll burn your fingers off. Leave some for your boss!”
I’ve told her a hundred times I don’t eat breakfast, and still, she keeps trying.
Violet and I have an hour to practice before we go over the names and locations of the survivors. If we can interview them… we might find what we need after all.
I start to turn the doorknob but pause as Joe’s phone rings, and he answers it. He frowns, his eyes coming straight at me. “You gave her a gun? And now the door to the target range is locked?”
Jesus.
The kitchen door slams behind me with a bang.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Violet
Oh God, he’s going to absolutely fucking murder me for this, but it will be worth it. You only live once, so you might as well make that one time so worth it.
I tried to sleep last night and did end up finally catching some zzz’s, but it was nowhere near enough. My mind was teeming with everything that had happened… and that kiss. So when I woke, I knew where I had to go.
I knew he was meeting me here. I asked in the kitchen about who the shooting instructor was, and by the way they all looked at each other knowingly and laughed, I knew it was Cain.
I wanted to get here ahead of him. I didn’t want to give him even that little bit of control over me.
So I came here first, even though I don’t know what I’m doing.
I guessed he doesn’t just leave guns sitting around, but I found Joe in the kitchen, and I may have told a bit of a white lie embellished with what I knew Joe heard last night about our practice. Joe allowed me to come down here, but there was another guy, some big dude with a shaved head, training outside. He was the one that let me in.
The floor beneath my feet’s sparkling clean, made of concrete. Each practice area, sectioned off like cubicles, has a place to stand, a small table covered in velvet where I’m presuming you lay your guns, a hook with headphone things, and in front, targets at a distance. Half a dozen people could safely practice in here at once.
He’s coming here, coming soon, and my body heats with this knowledge. I want him so badly I can taste it. I want so much more than a kiss.
Even his attention’s nice, and I know I’m going to get more than I can handle if he catches me in here. I’m early though, at least fifteen minutes. I’ll put this all away before he comes.
I may have never shot a gun, but I’m no fool. I got a few hours of sleep, then pulled up a YouTube video on my phone and watched a series of “intro to shooting” videos. I didn’t want to be a complete newb.