Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Yelling something in Arabic, Bill hauls me up until I’m standing. Mortimer calls out, and they laugh.
I just stare at Bill, wondering if he has a family and why he does the things he does. Is he being paid good money? Does he believe in whatever cause my captors are pursuing?
He says something else to me… something I’ll never understand in a million years. Just as I don’t understand when I hear a slight zinging noise… and then his head bursts apart in a spray of blood, bone, and brains.
Mortimer gives a sharp curse—at least I think that’s what it is, then I hear that zinging noise again and Mortimer’s head explodes, too.
Both men slump to the desert pavement, Bill right at my feet. Mesmerized, I watch as blood seeps out of what’s left of his head, forming a large puddle that starts sliding toward my socked feet. It sparkles in the moonlight, actually looking quite beautiful.
And then it hits me… I’m free.
I glance around, peering into the dusky night, but the glow from Mortimer’s fire makes it impossible to see much.
“Hands up,” an American voice orders from the perimeter of darkness. I don’t hesitate in putting my roped hands high in the air as I search around me.
And then… they all seem to step forward out of melted shadows, my teammates from Jameson. Tank and Merritt, along with a handful of other men, all dressed to the hilt in camo with guns and grenades.
Tank and Merritt were with me back in June on a hostage rescue mission when we were ambushed. Until this moment, I had no clue if they survived.
My head starts to swim with the enormity of what I’m seeing. I had given up all hope of this ever happening.
Suddenly, my friend, Cage Murdock, is standing in front of me as I feel my legs giving way. His arms come around me, holding me upright. Tank and Merritt move in closer to get a good look at me while the other men check on what remains of Bill and Mortimer.
“I got you, buddy,” Cage reassures me. “No one else guarding you, right?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. I only ever see two at any given time.”
Tank glances around, nodding over at the building where I was held. “We’ve been watching for several days now. We didn’t see anyone else, either, but we need to make sure we’re secure.”
“We’re secure,” I mumble, although I’m not really sure of anything at this point.
“That’s good,” Cage replies with a smile, giving me a not-too-rough slap on my shoulder. “That means we can get your ass home. Bet you’d like that, huh?”
I grit my teeth together, knowing my words will never be sufficient to answer that question.
Instead, I give the desert something I’ve withheld all these months.
I let my tears finally flow free.
CHAPTER 2
Anna
It’s amazing how efficient I’ve become at getting Avery and myself ready in the morning. Not that getting a four-and-a-half-month-old baby ready takes a lot. I give her a bath at night, so mornings are mostly about changing her diaper, putting on the cutest of outfits I can’t stop myself from buying, and breastfeeding her. The last is the longest part of the process, but it’s also the most fulfilling. Almost meditative as I can get lost just watching my daughter take her life’s nourishment from me.
After that, it’s a quick shower for me while I watch Avery in her tiny portable bassinet through the shower door. A quick dry of my hair, a slapping on of some makeup, and I’m out the door in an hour and a half from start to finish to drop her off at my mother’s house before heading in to work.
I can’t help but wonder how different our morning routine would be if circumstances were just a bit different.
For example, how much easier would it be if I’d just give into my mother’s harassing and move into her house so she can “take care” of us both? She’s having the hardest time understanding how important my independence is to me.
Or rather, how much easier it would be to care for Avery if I had Jimmy here with me? My husband was killed on a mission gone bad in Syria almost six months ago. Jimmy was the type who would have been very hands-on with Avery. He would have insisted on being the one to change her diaper and get her dressed in the morning since I would be the one to feed her. He’d be involved in that, too, though. He’d sit beside me on the couch, pull me into his strong arms, and would stare down at her the same way I do with that dreamy expression because she’s our little miracle.
At least, I think that’s what he’d do.
The passage of time has a way of fucking with people’s minds, just as becoming a widow while pregnant with a first child can do the same. Truth be told, Jimmy and I had only known each other about two years before he’d died. We’d met while we were both in the Army, stationed down in Ft. Bragg, North Carolina. It had been a whirlwind romance, an accidental pregnancy, and a quick marriage. Some might say I could never have predicted who Jimmy would have been as a father when I hardly knew him as a man and a husband, but they’d be wrong.