Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 49215 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 246(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49215 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 246(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
“What’re we eating?” Danny asked.
“Grilled chicken, arepas, and tomato soup. It’ll be ready when the guys come back in a few hours.”
Fuck, that sounded good. Emerson made an awesome tomato soup with spices, lime, chicken stock, and cream cheese, and he let it simmer for a really long time. I didn’t know if he had all those ingredients here, probably not, but he was the right man to have by your side when you got hungry in the field. At least these days. He and Danny had taken cooking classes and everything.
Shay loved his cooking too.
We’re almost there, sweetheart. It won’t be long now. I promise. Be strong.
Cullen had his priorities in order too. Before Emerson could take over, coffee was the most important thing.
“Dry feet, a filled belly, and hot coffee,” he said.
“That’s my language,” Danny replied.
I leaned back against the passenger’s side door and folded my arms over my chest. I didn’t have anything to do, but watching the others made a much-needed impact. I felt stronger and more confident.
For the longest time, River and I had only had each other. More often than not, anyway. We’d met most of these men during that time, sometimes joining forces in high-risk areas, sometimes meeting up for beers and pizza—but it’d been different. We’d had one another’s backs. We’d forged bonds over past horrors and nightmares and challenges. We shared something few people could understand. And still…it wasn’t until Shay came into our lives that I’d made more of an effort to get to know these men better.
In the beginning, when Shay had suggested dinners here, barbecues there…I don’t know, I’d just…operated on another frequency. I’d found it weird. I checked in with my buddies to hear how they were doing, how they were coping, and he was all…but sometimes you can spend time together for the sake of it. With Ryan and Darius, for instance. I’d known more about their pasts with PTSD and medical histories than their hobbies and civilian jobs.
Shay had introduced Riv and me to a vanilla lifestyle I couldn’t imagine being without anymore. Our BDSM dynamic ran through us like the strongest current, but it wasn’t everything. Sometimes we flew to Washington to visit the Quinns and go hiking. Sometimes we took Shay’s brothers to games and museums. They had a guest room at our house. We had Sunday night dinners at Melanie’s place in the city.
The happiest day of my life had been when Shay had taken our name.
I sniffled and scrubbed a hand quickly over my eyes.
Fuck.
I had to distract myself. I cleared my throat and pulled out River’s field notes from one of my side pockets. He’d left them with me earlier because he wanted my thoughts.
“Update from Crew,” Coach announced. My head snapped up, and my heart jumped. “He’s made contact with Shay.”
“Oh, thank fuck.” There was no mistaking the relief that escaped Cullen upon hearing his son’s name.
I took an automatic step forward as a rush of hope tore through me. “River—”
His name had barely left my mouth before River opened our tent and scrambled out.
“Shay’s being held in an outdoor cage.” Coach read from the phone. “A little banged up, but he’s holding up well. He knows we’re here—Crew was able to deliver a quick message.”
He’s holding up well.
I felt myself mouth the words. He’s holding up well. A little banged up but holding up well. Jesus Christ. I blew out a breath and locked eyes with River. We’re bringing him home. He’s here. Of-fucking-course he was holding up well. He was our fighter.
“Crew will try to send photos of the premises tonight when they’re back in their room,” Coach went on. “At this point, he and Mercier are asking us to stand down. Tomorrow morning, they will meet with someone who might be able to help us. But we’re talking hundreds of people on their grounds, from immediate family to low-men. From young children to hitmen.”
“He had to become a fuckin’ Marine,” Cullen bitched under his breath. “Two of my boys—they had to dedicate their lives to givin’ me grays.”
“Says the old jarhead himself,” Greer drawled.
I snorted softly and pinched my lips together. I couldn’t describe the whirlwind of emotions that raged within me. Elation, fear, worry, impatience, hope—so much hope. And I was supposed to stand down? For chrissakes.
Emerson glanced over at me, then River, then back to me. Just a slow, measured look. A silent reminder—and I nodded reluctantly. I was going to stand down, because now wasn’t the time to lose my shit and act like I knew best. Crew and Mercier were on the inside. They knew what was happening.
Standing down meant not pushing too far. We could still continue with our outer perimeter checks. We had to know our way in and get a better sense of what we were up against. Guards armed with old AK-47s and simple radios in watchtowers were only the beginning.