Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
“Thank Christ.” Boon holstered his own gun before sitting back down. “I’d hate to’ve had to explain to Bessy how I’d killed her fuckin’ kid when I finally got to hell.”
“Jackhammer was your stepson?” I asked before I could stop myself and immediately winced. “Never mind. Ain’t my business.”
Boon gave me an impatient look. “Hell no, the bastard ain’t my stepson. He was my old lady’s kid. I never claimed him in any way, shape, or form.” He spat where Jackhammer lay in a heap on the floor nearby. “Told you this was your last chance to straighten up, kid. Shoulda fuckin’ listened.”
“Can we get on with this or would someone else like to die?” The look on Rocket’s face said he’d had enough.
Scrub, the cleaner for Grim Road, stood and nudged Jackhammer’s lifeless form with the toe of his boot. When the other man didn’t move, Scrub shrugged. “I’ll take him out back to dispose of. Let me know when the meeting’s over, and I’ll see what I need to do here.”
Rocket just grunted before continuing. “Ain’t no easy way to say this. Rattler. Falcon. One member of your team survived your last mission. She’s alive, but a prisoner.”
I felt like I’d been sucker punched. I think I actually grunted. “No,” I whispered. “Not possible.” I turned to look at Rattler who had an equally sick look on his face. Not that we valued female lives over male lives, but I hadn’t missed the fact Rocket had said “she” and there was no way Rattler missed it either. “We visually accounted for every single man and woman in our mission. We didn’t leave anyone behind, least of all a woman. Christ, Rocket!”
“I have no doubt your count was correct.” Rocket dug out a thumb drive from his pocket and tossed it to me. I caught it reflexively or it would have bounced off my chest and hit the floor. I was still trying to wrap my head around what he’d said.
“We brought every one of our team back with us. They were dead, but we brought them home. We carried their bodies to the landing zone and loaded them into the aircraft ourselves.” I could barely form words. Reliving the worst day in my life… Thinking about the events of that day made me nauseous. It wasn’t just a matter of getting our brothers and sisters to the LZ and in the chopper. We’d had to pick up as many pieces of them as we could. In some cases, it had probably been left up to investigators to figure out what body went with that limb. Or head.
“You did. What you didn’t know was there was someone on the inside of that terror cell already, giving your handler real time data. No one bothered to tell you because…” Rocket trailed off, clenching his jaw. He actually glanced over to Lemon who was focused squarely on our president. Her husband. She was as stony-faced as Rocket and, in some ways, infinitely more terrifying, even if she was still practically a fucking teenager. She nodded her head slightly and Rocket continued. “Because the operative imbedded in that shit hole was Joilyn Graves.”
Instantly, Rattler got to his feet. He pulled his gun and aimed it at Rocket’s head. I’ll admit, I had to stop myself from doing the same. It wasn’t every day someone told you a woman you thought had been dead for years had been the deep operative on your mission. And you’d left her there. Also, it probably didn’t help the fact that Joilyn Graves happened to be Rattler’s sister.
To the president’s credit, he didn’t flinch. In fact, Rocket looked like he’d been expecting exactly this reaction.
“Easy, Rattler,” I said, putting my hand on his shoulder, trying to urge him to lower his weapon before he got himself -- and me -- killed. “We’ll figure this out.”
“You don’t get to utter her name, Rocket. Not like this.” I’d never seen this side of Rattler. The battle-hardened man’s hand actually shook as he held his gun. “Joi died a year before everything that happened that night. You go back to ExFil or Cain or whoever the fuck told you this fuckin’ horse shit and tell ‘em I’m comin’ to kill them.”
“It’s all on the flash drive, Rattler. Information that will explain everything. Obviously, the CIA didn’t offer any of this. Data and his wife, Zora, along with Cain’s daughter, Suzie, found this. I’m certain their means of procurement were less than legal.”
Yeah. The full impact of this would hit me later, but I had bigger things to worry about right now. “You said they were givin’ us a heads-up,” I said after clearing my throat. Rocket had hit me with way too fucking much in way too fucking short a time for me to process. “They offerin’ to let us in on this?”