Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 133182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Lucifer talks over Simon’s yelling. “The Russians slowed down long enough for the Highway Patrol officer to get close to them. Then they opened up with automatic rifle fire, killing him. We’ve lost them in the ensuing traffic panic ahead and behind them.”
“You what?” Gabriel asks in disbelief.
Jesus Christ. Can this shitshow get any shittier?
Gabriel snarls into the comms. “James, what’s your location?”
“In traffic. I could jerk off and the line will probably have not moved. We’re at a standstill,” I grumble.
I could get out and do naked cartwheels around my car and still be fucking waiting.
I gun my engine uselessly, trying to weave just enough to see around the cars ahead of me, but it’s fucking pointless.
This shit is the absolute worst thing that could be happening right now.
Everything’s going south and I’m a turtle crawling toward Bethlehem.
Suddenly an awful thought breaks through the murderous rage I’ve been stewing in.
Sophia.
My fucking Sophia is back in Garden City, unprotected and alone.
My fingers dig into the steering wheel and I can feel them threatening to rip the leather clean off.
We’ve lost the Russians. We’ve got two dead men on our hands.
And we’ve got me, a murderous sniper, who can’t get to his fucking woman…
Fuck.
Punching the ceiling of the car doesn’t ease any of my fucking emotions.
“Cocksucking, mouth-breathing, dick-gobblers!” I scream.
Jamming my finger against the phone button on my steering wheel, I growl, “Call Lucifer.”
The line rings twice before Lucifer’s smooth drawl comes through my speakers.
“James, unless this is a matter of business, now is not the time to be calling for a chit-chat,” Lucifer says, and there’s this fucking slyness to his voice.
Like he’s already playing with me.
“Cut the shit, Matthew,” I snarl. “Give me the green light to waste someone. Let me kill these fuckers in the cop cars so I can get on with the shit I need to take care of.”
“No,” he says without missing a beat. “We can’t and you can’t.”
“I need to get back to Garden City, Matthew. I need to be there right now.”
“Why?” he asks.
I know that he fucking knows why I want to go back, but he’s enjoying this little game of torture.
“Sophia,” I say with a growl of frustration.
Might as well put it out there.
Fuck the games.
Fuck the runaround.
Her dad is dead.
I’m the only person left to protect her now, and there’s no reason I can’t make her mine.
“We’re tracking her, and even though it looks like she’s got a couple of undercovers following her, she’s safe for now,” Lucifer says. “We have to deal with the situation at hand. We need Alexei and we need to help Gabriel rescue Meghan. As soon as we’re done here, you can get back to your little perch.”
Fucking bastard.
“Fuck you,” I spit out.
“Get your rifle ready, James, you’ll need it. We’ve got men looking around Bethlehem for Alexei,” he says. “As soon as this is dealt with… You can go get your little curse.”
Curse…
That motherfucker.
Curse is exactly what this is.
Johnathan fucking cursed me to be the next guy in the inner circle to find and marry a woman, and by all the fucking gods it came true.
The fucking bastard.
Disconnecting the call, I sigh loudly, and try to cut ahead of a guy who’s lagging on my right side in the traffic.
I’ve never prayed before, not to the gods above or below. I’ve never felt the need to ask for help or beg for forgiveness.
It’s just not a part of who I am or how I’m made.
I know the prayers, of course. I was forced to learn them during my days of Catholic school hell, but I’ve never uttered those words once in any way, shape, or form.
But hearing the Heralds of Hell, of all people, have spotted Alexei… Well, it almost gives me the urge to give thanks.
Never did I think a motorcycle club would be useful to have on our side.
Beyond the fact that just thinking about all the dirt those guys are covered in must give Simon a rash.
But fuck, right now I’d buy each and every single one of them a beer.
“I’m sending the latest updates on the warehouses they’re suspected to be in to your phones. James, you’re closest. Get a position up high and see if you can spot heat signatures with any of the gear you have,” Simon says over the comms.
“Roger that, but I need to leave here as soon as this shit’s over. I’ve got something I need to take care of,” I respond back.
“What do you have that’s more pressing?” Simon snarls out.
“He’s cleared it with me and I’m in full agreement. James needs to do another job. Right now, we have a small group of outsiders tailing the police chief’s daughter. We need one of us watching her now. We still don’t know why they took out the chief,” Lucifer says.