Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 37793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
“No, I did not.”
“The question is,” Colter went on, “why can these men—I assume they’re men?”
“Yes!” Horace yelled at him.
Colter’s eyes narrowed. “So help me, if you raise your voice to—”
“Fuck off, Horace,” I told him. “Grab them outside, or me and Doyle will shoot their legs out from under them when they get outta their fuckin’ cars. You think anyone will get mad at me because I maim a few skinheads? Think about that.”
“You think about it. We have the opportunity to—”
“I don’t give a shit about that. I’m getting married today. I’ve brought it up several times, and you haven’t once answered me, but I’m telling you this: nothing, and I mean nothing, will be allowed to happen on my special day.”
“So getting married surpasses national secur—”
“Why are they here?” I asked as the door opened again, and in came Efrem Lahm and Darius Hawthorne.
I met a lot of handsome men in my life, many already in the room with me. But really, after my gorgeous soon-to-be husband, Darius Hawthorne—the man who ran the Vault—was exceptionally stunning. Between the bright chartreuse eyes, deep umber skin with gold undertones, and his regal bearing, the man was as close to perfection as I was ever going to see.
“You invited the Vault to your wedding?” Horace asked, barely getting the words out.
“I invited my sister-in-law and her kids as well, and Sam Kage, the chief deputy of the Northern District of Illinois is here too, with both his kids and their plus-ones, so—”
“The FBI does not sweat the US Marshals Service, especially when he’s out of his jurisdiction and—”
“That’s not the point he’s making, you ignorant piece of shit! My wife is here,” Chris bellowed, and Horace stopped trying to interrupt. “All of us,” Chris continued, gesturing around the room, “have the people we love most in the world here with us, so if you think any of us would ever—and I mean fuckin’ ever—allow you to put any of them in danger, you’re a goddamn fuckin’ idiot!” he finished with a roar.
After a moment of silence, Hawthorne strode over to Horace, took a breath, and cleared his throat. “Things have changed, Gleason.”
“What?”
“Here’s what I did, I received the same intel you did, but I got in yesterday, not today.”
Horace Gleason gasped. He was a big man—six-three, with the classic dad bod, good musculature, carrying probably twenty extra pounds—and if it was you and him in a fight, he would make you bleed. But—and this was the crucial difference—most of the men in the room, other than Efrem and Owen, would just plain kill you.
“I called off your backup,” Hawthorne told him, “which means no helicopters flying around making lots of noise, and I spoke to the FBI director and explained that I would take care of this situation. I assured him I would neutralize the threat, meaning the six men, wring the needed information from them, and then make certain they could not pose any renewed danger to our national security.”
“Holy shit, Harris!” Horace exclaimed.
Not everyone knew Hawthorne’s real name. Many only knew a singular alias. I felt special to have been trusted with the truth.
“Jasper Linwood,” Hawthorne continued, turning to the rest of us, “sent those men here to kidnap Aaron Sutter and his husband, Police Commander Duncan Stiel, so they could leverage Sutter to do as they asked, or they would execute the police commander.”
Not a sound in the room as Hawthorne spoke.
“I sent my people this morning to Brentwood, Tennessee, where Mr. Linwood resides, and they quietly removed him from his home and turned him over to Homeland Security.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Oh, I can,” Hawthorne countered. “And I did. It’s done. He’s in custody, assets frozen, house raided, paper documents and all digital files seized.”
“The FBI was in charge of this operation.”
He pointed at me then. “This is not an operation. It’s a wedding. A small, intimate, beautiful affair that all of us here are excited to attend.”
“I—”
“Are you aware that Captain George Hunt is an Army Ranger and is deployed on covert missions across the globe to ensure the safety of our nation and allies?”
“Of course I—”
“Then you goddamn act like it,” Hawthorne said, his voice low and cold. “We do not sacrifice the happiness, safety, or well-being of the people who protect us, Special Agent Horace Gleason. They are not disposable.”
“It was the perfect opportunity to catch—”
“Because you made it known that Mr. Sutter would be here to draw out those skinhead psychopaths. You set Mr. Sutter up as bait, could have cared less that you put civilians in danger, and finally, gave no thought to the pain you would cause Captain Hunt, who is supposed to be your friend.”
“I—”
“I find this all reprehensible.”
“And you killing the men I was going to take into custody, what about their lives?”