Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 135536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
“Dallas, honey.” Senior waved a hand for me to join him. “Come on. We’re about to start the drill. You don’t want to miss this thing of beauty.”
I hurried to him, mainly so I could escape Romeo before I lost it.
When I reached Senior, he kissed my cheek, handing me plastic glasses. “I hope my son isn’t giving you too much trouble.”
Bruce forked over noise-canceling earmuffs. “Junior can be a bit immature.”
I turned away, trying to focus on the Humvee. Khaki-colored, with wheels big enough to flatten a strip mall, and probably paid for by my tax dollars.
Well, Romeo’s tax dollars.
Perks of unemployment.
Senior gestured to the vehicle. “We’re the sole contractors for the U.S. Army’s eight prototype Humvees. This is our latest creation.” He planted a hand on Bruce’s forearm for balance. “We produce over twenty thousand Humvees a year, but none are half as sophisticated as this baby right here. The HMWWV3.”
I could think of a catchier name, but it probably wasn’t my place to suggest a marketing overhaul. Plus, weapons tended to sell themselves without the help of jingles and radio ads.
I nodded and glared at the machine-gun mount, channeling all my efforts into ignoring the prior showdown. I’d never been as humiliated as today.
Just when we’d approached some kind of a ceasefire, too.
I forced myself to focus, refusing to search for Romeo. “What’s so special about it?”
“Glad you asked.” Senior laced his arm with mine and approached the Kevlar door, his steps uneven and weak. “The battlefield glass is resistant enough to survive a direct hit. It’s also lightweight. Our fastest Humvee to date. It can carry triple the military equipment of our competitors and includes shock absorbers capable of withstanding most ballistic missiles.”
“Oh.”
Lovely contribution, Dal. What next? A dissertation?
What I really wanted to know was where Romeo went. It struck me as bizarre that he’d miss out on any opportunity to trample Bruce in front of his father.
We stopped before a row of men, adorned in a uniform of black fatigues, protective glasses, and helmets. All four blinked back at me like I’d just paid them a visit straight from space.
Maybe I did go a little overboard with the outfit.
Still, Romeo’s outburst was completely uncalled for.
Senior gestured to the man closest to the Humvee. “This is Matthew Krasinski, one of our top engineers. Matt, this is my daughter-in-law, Dallas.”
Matt reached for my hand. “Pleasure.”
I shook it, eyes darting everywhere in search of Romeo again. I couldn’t find him anywhere. Panic overtook me.
Was this the straw that broke the camel’s back? After all we’d been through? A stupid La Perla mini-dress was going to send us to the lawyer’s office to sign divorce papers?
Then it hit me.
The thing I’d known in the back of my head for weeks now but refused to articulate in my mind—I didn’t want a divorce.
I wanted the opposite of divorce. And the old tricks in my hat—of pressing his buttons with my messy, lazy, unapologetically shocking behavior—didn’t work. I wasn’t drawing him closer.
I was pushing him away.
Matt motioned to the monstrous tank. “Are you ready to see this baby in action?”
Not even a little.
“Sure.”
But the Humvee didn’t move.
Neither did the men around it.
Finally, Senior shook his head, chuckling. “Okay, I see everyone’s a little distracted. Let’s give them some space, Dallas, shall we?”
He set his hand on my back, leading me toward the helicopter while Bruce trailed us.
I swept my eyes across the tarmac. “Where did Romeo go?”
Bruce settled on my other side. “Probably to sulk. Junior does that often. He can’t stand when people are nice to his father. Such an unbecoming trait in someone expected to inherit a leadership position.”
Senior nodded his agreement. “He’s not making you miserable, is he?”
“No, not at all,” I shot out.
An odd sense of ownership seized my throat. Only I could take jabs at Romeo.
“You can always come to me for anything. I should’ve mentioned it earlier. I’m here if you need me.”
“Er…thanks.”
I continued searching, mildly aware something was amiss—and not just my husband.
Senior’s hand slipped, hitting the curve of my butt. I startled, shoulders sagging when he hiked his hand up my back again.
Red-hot mortification dusted his cheeks. “My apologies. My hands aren’t what they used to be, unfortunately. Not as steady.”
I gave him the benefit of the doubt, because the alternative struck me as too outlandish.
Bruce rushed to Senior’s side, offering an arm. “Where is Junior when his father needs him? He really is unreliable.”
As soon as the drill began, I understood why Romeo didn’t want me here.
The experiment consisted of the Humvee, driven by a trained professional, sailing across the tarmac as everything from nature to man-made catastrophes attempted to wipe its existence off Earth.
The vehicle galloped into an array of dangerous obstacles: mud, ice, water, and fallen trees. Meanwhile, dozens of armed men shot bullets into the rear.