Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“When did you get here?” Macklin asked.
“This morning,” Reese replied. “We checked out of our hotel outside Miami around four—River did not enjoy that part—and then we drove straight through the Glades. It’s fuckin’ stunning out there. It’s gonna be a good week. And Ty’s definitely a good addition to the community. He greeted us with breakfast and a glimpse into his gun cabinet.”
I felt my forehead crease. “Does he use a lot of guns?”
“No, that was the fun part. Hell, if I’d known reptile hunters had to be so creative, I woulda come down here much sooner.”
I laughed a little. That did make more sense. We had strict laws for how to euthanize a snake, eliminating use of firearms for most people. The state contractors would be the exception in some cases.
“What’s in the gun cabinet, then?” Macklin wondered.
“Well, he’s got some rifles, of course,” Reese said. “There’s some special air rifle to take down iguanas. But the rest is just an impressive collection of knives, gloves, cages, snares, bows, you name it. I reckon he picked up a skill or two in the Air Force.”
I blanched.
Ty had been in the Air Force?
I swallowed and felt weird in my stomach. It wasn’t possible. But that was one too many coincidences for my comfort. The Ty I had briefly known once upon a time had been in the Air Force too. Plus the reptile thing…?
I grimaced and started tapping my fingers against my leg.
It’s not possible.
“What kind of survivalist skill do you need in that branch?” Macklin joked. “I’ve lost count of the times Kit has taunted Colt by calling it the Chair Force.”
Reese snorted. “They still gotta go through basic training, brat. Then there’s years of intense mental strain if you become a pilot.”
Macklin rolled his eyes. “I’m hardly doubting Colt’s abilities. But he grew up hunting in Texas—like you and River did in Tennessee or whatever. Don’t tell me Colt’s good with a rifle because of his years in the service. Greer is another matter. He was a damn marksman—he was trained in combat. Leave him in the middle of the Everglades, and I’m sure he’ll turn every snake into his bitch.”
Reese barked out a laugh. “Boy, I don’t think you know how much training service members have to go through to keep up with the standards. Even sweet ol’ fighter pilots like Colt. Hell, even the noncombat personnel like Ty.”
“What was he?” I asked quickly. Too quickly. Unable to help myself. Don’t say engineer, don’t say engineer.
Jesus Christ, don’t say engineer.
“He was some specialist officer in electronic warfare,” Reese answered. “If I understood Colt’s explanation right, Ty worked on developing better missiles for the fifth-generation fighter jets.”
I knew fuck-all about fighter jets and what that job looked like, but the nausea suddenly crawling up my throat told me it probably wasn’t unheard of that a service member of his kind had some sort of degree in engineering.
This couldn’t be happening.
I coughed into my fist and directed my stare out the window. Holy fuck. It couldn’t be. But the coincidences…? His name. His familiarity with reptiles. His profession. Of course, the fact that he was a DC local. Arlington, to be more accurate. Where I had grown up. Where Corey had grown up. Where Marina, Ty’s daughter, had grown up.
“Has, um—has Corey met Ty?” I forced myself to ask.
I caught puzzled expressions from both Reese and Macklin.
“Yeah, I think so,” Reese said.
Macklin nodded. “They were both at the munch after the fire.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Reese nodded too.
Okay, well, I didn’t fucking know what to do with that information. Because wouldn’t Corey have told me? If he knew Ty was in that community, he’d fucking tell me. Right?
Oh God.
I had to swallow repeatedly and focus on keeping my breaths steady. In through my nose, out through my mouth. Yeah, look at the palm trees outside. The crystal-clear water. The yellow-green grasslands. The mangrove islands in the distance. Deep breaths.
My skin prickled uncomfortably, and I had to repeat what my therapist had told me so many times. It was okay to use medication; medication was necessary sometimes, and I should never feel bad for taking it. However, every human being went through distress here and there, and we couldn’t medicate away everything. It wasn’t healthy. Sometimes, I had to accept the anxiety, just like any other person.
Deep breaths. I couldn’t control what I couldn’t control. I couldn’t go home. I couldn’t ask Reese to turn the truck around. This was happening. Whether or not I was about to meet Ty Madison for the first time in…shit, eight or nine years, this was gonna happen. This vacation was happening. Deep breaths.
I drew in a long breath and wrung my hands in my lap—until I remembered I’d bought more gum. So I reached down and dug through my bag, quickly fishing out a packet.