Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 58163 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58163 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Fuck, I’m going in blind.
I take a deep breath and walk, low and fast, through the invisible fence and up a short hill to survey the scene.
I see two men, pacing back and forth, each armed with automatic weapons. These two have more training, watching the area around them closely.
I pull my sidearm from its holster, screw on the silencer, and shoot them both in the forehead before they can blink.
Three down.
I hurry over to the bodies, relieve them of their weapons, and crouch, listening.
I hear voices to the east but no gunfire. No struggles.
Staying close to the ground, I hurry on. When I see the door to the bunker, I blow out a breath of relief when I see the discreet green light level with the ground.
That means someone is inside. Safe. It hasn’t been breached. Praying that it’s Ivie in there, I continue, moving toward the house, and see movement on my right.
It’s Curt, cutting a man’s throat very much the same way I just did back at the Jeeps.
I start to wave him down, but he sees movement and throws the knife, hitting another man square in the forehead, killing him instantly.
I don’t ever want to be on Curt’s bad side.
I issue the low whistle we used to use back in the day and nod when Curt’s gaze finds mine. I see his shoulders relax, and then he starts giving me hand signals.
Eight more men on the property. Four at the house, four at the barn.
I nod and silently give him directions to go to the barn, indicating I’ll take the house.
He nods in affirmation, and we set off to find our targets. I crouch in the long grass and quickly type out a message to Rocco.
Me: Infiltrated. Need the chopper to get out ASAP.
I don’t wait for a reply as I hurry to the house. I don’t see any movement outside, so I press my back against the wall and ease over to look in a window.
Two men in the kitchen.
I keep going around the house, looking in the windows. The basement door is still secure. That’s a good sign.
I move to the side door, near a sunroom that I’ve never furnished, and see two more men about to come outside.
So, I wait for them. Let them come to me. If I can eliminate them without using a firearm, all the better. I don’t want to alert the two inside.
With my back to the side of the house, I wait while the two come through the squeaky screen door, and when they come around the corner, I spring into action. The first one gets his neck broken, and then I spin and wrap my legs around the other’s neck, taking him to the ground. I fling my arm back and stab him in the neck.
Seven down. There are two more here, and four with Curt.
I slink into the house, silently moving through the rooms, my weapon drawn.
Both of the remaining men are bent over the basement door lock, trying to disarm it and get inside.
Morons.
I’m able to sidle up behind them and look down at the doorknob.
“How’s it going?” I ask, surprising them.
Before they can draw their weapons, I have them both on the ground, dead.
No blood.
That would be messy to clean up.
I check for pulses before opening the basement door and slinking down the stairs to look at the monitors. I check the bunker first.
Ivie’s there, watching the other wall of monitors. Good, she’s safe.
Then I check the barn. I count three dead bodies. None of them are Curt, but I can’t locate him. After scanning the rest of the screens, I don’t see any other men on the property.
Just Curt and one remaining asshole.
I shut it all down, hurry up the stairs, lock the door behind me, and am out of the house and running to the barn within seconds.
When I reach the building, I stop to listen.
I hear a scuffle coming from the side of the structure.
I run toward it, my weapon drawn once again, and find Curt punching the fuck out of a man. He has blood coming from his nose, but he’s spouting profanities.
“Don’t kill him,” I instruct in a firm, cold voice. Curt immediately stops punching but holds the asshole against the building.
“Who do you work for?” I demand.
The piece of shit spits in my face.
“That’s not the answer I wanted. Curt?”
Curt takes his knife and slices off the man’s ear, making him squeal like a pig.
“Now, let’s try that again. Who do you work for?”
“You’re just going to kill me.” He’s not wrong. “I’m not telling you shit.”
“All of your comrades are dead. All of them. Now, we can make this easy on you, and I can kill you fast—you won’t feel anything. If you answer the question. If you don’t, I can make your last few minutes as miserable and painful as anyone has ever been through. It’s up to you.”