Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66977 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66977 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
“Arley’s notes – that she has shared – have him marked as a possible suspect noting the narcissistic red flags in several of his psych evals, his handwriting analysis that shifts from large in size – textbook attention seeker – to tiny scribbles – retreating from social structures as a whole – a combination she mentions can result in an unstable mindset – and a pattern of requests for a pay increase despite an unimproved performance.”
“Africanized honeybee much,” my second sarcastically sighs.
“His motives are unclear to me.” Our eyes finally lock. “However, if you’d like me to venture an educated guess? Some sort…unresolved revenge or vendetta for not being heard when he was here.”
“Was he fired?” Blu rightfully investigates.
“Resigned.” Seventeen lowers the device he’s been death gripping since we’ve been on the pad. “Shortly after I took office.”
My head slightly angles itself to the side. “I get the feelin’ that’s not a coincidence, Seventeen.”
“I didn’t have anything against him.”
“Doesn’t mean he didn’t have anything against you.”
“Killing and kidnapping seem a bit extreme for someone I can hardly recall having interactions with, Wahl.”
“People have gone to harsher lengths for less,” I coldly remind him. “People are often fueled by hate or the need for revenge the same way they’re fueled by hope.” Crossing my arms is wedged between statements. “It’s that old sayin’ about cuttin’ off the nose to spite your face.”
“And yet something tells me you’re gonna be cutting off a whole lot more than that,” Blu playfully pokes.
Probably not.
This isn’t a capture torture mission even if for the first time in my life I wish it were.
No.
It’s simply R&R.
And R&R is what I do best.
“Helo’s almost ready,” Seventeen informs, receiving a hand gesture from the pilot. Afterward, we lock eyes again. “And you’re sure you know exactly where she is?”
“Affirmative.”
“Absolutely fucking sure, Wahl?”
“Affirmative.”
“How?” He huffs in obvious irritation. “Explain to me now what you wouldn’t earlier because you needed to gear up.” His gaze narrows in nervousness. “How do you know where Arley is without Rosenkrantz providing you the location?”
Adjusting my gear bag is done on a blunt, “She’s got a tracker.”
Blu moves around to stand beside our boss to be in my direct line of sight. “Say that shit again.”
“She’s got a tracker on her.”
“Does she know she has a tracker on her?” Seventeen cautiously questions.
“No.”
“You put a tracker on your fucking girlfriend?!” Outrage and mirth alike mix in my best friend’s laughter.
“Is this another romantic sentiment between the two of you I don’t understand?”
There isn’t time to respond due to Blu cackling, “Brah, you know she’s a person not a puppy, right?”
“It was a tactical decision.”
Two sets of eyebrows dart down, yet it’s my partner for the mission that points out, “You know when she finds out you’re gonna be in deep. Shit.”
“Yup.” I lean slightly forward to reinforce my proclamation. “But she’s gonna be alive to put me in that deep shit.”
He pauses.
Nods in agreement.
Swings his stare back to the man, who for the first time in his life, didn’t hesitate to put my woman’s life before his own. I banged on his door, told him we needed to rescue Arley, and was immediately followed out of his office for him to make whatever necessary arrangements he could.
Not sure who he was on a call with, but they’ll understand.
Or they won’t.
Either way, I don’t care.
The only thing I care about is getting my woman home safe and sound and ending this bullshit once and for all.
“Call when you’re ready for extraction.” Seventeen slides one hand into his pocket. “In the meantime, I’ll see if there are any updates regarding Reynolds critical condition as well as what other information our indisposed guests are willing to part with prior to their demises. I’m sure by now Consuelos has retrieved something else. She is highly skilled.”
I give him a nod of acknowledgement and head off to the transport with Blu on my heels.
The instant we’re on the helicopter, I present the pilot with the exact coordinates her tracker is currently pinging and inform him of how many nautical miles we need to be dropped out at to prevent from being detected. Post setting his route, he points to the headsets we need to put on and motions for us to get seated where we’ll finish gearing up for the rescue.
After all…the pre-game clock is ticking.
Getting from Dalvegan to the middle of the water where his yacht is currently floating isn’t the issue.
It’s getting there before he places that call to tell me where he is.
Because if he gets a chance to make that call and I don’t answer?
He’ll kill her.
It’s why I didn’t waste a fucking minute leaving interrogation, getting Lenkov, or loading up on gear while Blu had someone on our tech team locate his yacht and pull up the schematics on it. Typically, a good plan takes time to concoct.