Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 132962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
He scanned names, saw meeting requests, department pot luck lunch signups, company baby shower invitations, just about everything completely useless until he landed on an email from his mom and dad. He smiled, knowing the message was just from his mom, but the email came with both their names.
The overly long note updated him on his entire family. Mitch stopped reading partway through and scanned to the bottom. His dad sent his love, and the last line was clear: Mitch needed to make time to come home. That was always their standard goodbye. Mitch pecked at the keyboard as he replied.
Hey Mom,
Thanks for the update. I’m heading to Dallas right now. I’ll let Jace and Colt know you said hi. I was thinking about maybe taking a few days off at Thanksgiving. Tell everyone I said hey.
Love,
Your favorite son.
Smiling at the last line, as he always did, he hit enter and sent the message to his mom. Hopefully that would pacify her a little bit, and he made a mental note to ask for Thanksgiving off.
“Goddamn, you spilled the drink on my slacks.” The angry words echoed in the cabin, drawing Mitch’s attention.
“Sir, I’m sorry. The turbulence…” The flight attendant started to explain, and Mitch could hear the stress in her voice.
“Bullshit! You’re an incompetent bitch.” Mitch looked around, praying an air marshal was on the flight. All eyes appeared to be on the flight attendant, while Mitch scanned the rows, looking for anyone who might intervene. No one stood. Fucking great!
“Sir, please calm down.” Another flight attendant made her way over to the angry passenger. She tried to defuse the situation with her attempts to clean the spill. Mitch lifted farther in his seat, watching the guy. The anger radiating off him didn’t dissipate. Mitch placed his laptop in the pocket of the seat in front of him before he pushed himself across the row. Maybe if he were lucky, he could calm the situation down without further incident.
Too bad the passenger didn’t clue in to Mitch’s plan.
The man shoved the young flight attendant’s hands out of the way, sending the towel and the water bottle she held flying across the cabin, spilling the contents everywhere. Damn.
“If you’ll come back with me, we can get you cleaned up.” Mitch had to give it to her; she tried hard to gain control. The man bolted up from his seat. Anger contorted his face, and Mitch saw he was clearly under the influence, ending any hope he had that this would end well.
The passenger awkwardly shoved the flight attendant aside as he stumbled out into the aisle. He became angrier as he tried standing without swaying. The effort caused him to trip on his feet, tumbling backward.
“Sir, get back in your seat,” Mitch ordered, stalking down the aisle, trying hard not to bump against the heads of the passengers watching the show.
“Fuck you. This bitch ruined my suit.” The angry man swung at a bystander who’d simply tried to help keep him on his feet. Dammit! He’d have to make an arrest for that move. Sighing, Mitch did his thing and wasted no time subduing the passenger in the most painful hold he could think of as he straddled the guy, locking him in handcuffs while reading him his rights.
By the time he pulled the guy to his feet, cheers erupted. That enraged the drunk. He struggled to get free, threatening to sue everyone on the plane, claiming his civil rights had been violated. Mitch tightened his grip, shoved the guy around until he stood in front of him, but the venom never stopped.
With a solid yank on his wrist, the guy stumbled backward, landing against his chest and Mitch hissed in his ear. “Shut the fuck up or so help me, I’ll do it for you.” The threat was idle. Mitch wouldn’t jeopardize the arrest or his job by forcibly closing the guy’s mouth, no matter how badly he wanted to do just that.
“Thank you,” the captain said. Mitch stood there, awkwardly shaking his hand, while the passenger swayed on his feet and decided groveling might be a better choice than outright aggression.
“Just doing what needed to be done.” The exchange didn’t take more than a second, and he pushed the guy back to his row of seats.
“Can you move my laptop case, please?” He flashed a smile toward the flight attendant who remained close by to help.
“Yes, sir,” she said as she took the laptop and the case and stored them in the overhead bin.
“Man, I’m sorry. I got outta hand,” his detainee whined while they were still in the aisle.
“Shut up, sit down.” Mitch wasn’t in the mood for excuses.
“I’m a vice principal. I can’t have this on my record. You can’t do this to me.” The man began to sweat bullets, and his tone grew louder as he faced off with Mitch.
“Shut up and sit down,” Mitch repeated. Funny how everybody always had a reason as to why they should be excused from their shitty behavior.
“I just drank too much,” he tried again with the excuses. Mitch shoved him across the seats, barely catching his head before it slammed into the window. The action hadn’t stopped the guy’s flow of excuses as Mitch helped get him situated in the seat.
“Why are you doing this to me? I have rights, you know!” Mitch left a seat between them and sat down, staring straight forward. On a deep sigh, he realized this was going to be one long-ass flight.
Chapter 4
Cody turned off the county highway onto the long gravel road to his family’s farm in Kylie’s Corner, Texas. He slowed his truck, navigating the trail they’d created through the course of his entire life. A shrill scream filled the truck cab and broke his train of thought, startling him. He smiled at the ringtone he’d assigned his sister, then fumbled for his phone to answer before the second shriek could pierce his eardrums.
“I’ve got news,” Cody said, answering the phone.