Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 118114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Juan took us to a rooftop of an abandoned apartment building and pointed to the west across an alley. It was obvious which one he was pointing to as it had barbwire above the eight-foot brick walls. It looked like a fuckin’ prison.
“Fuck.” I strode to the edge of the building, eyes on ‘the farm.’ Hell happened in that place. Darkness for days. Food deprivation. The pit. Torture techniques used to make certain we didn’t break if we were caught during a mission. If we failed or weren’t good enough, we were dead.
And my own mother started it. Sacrificed her kids.
Tyler was speaking quickly in Spanish and Juan nodded frequently. I had no idea what they were saying but I caught the odd word.
Deck and his men didn’t fuck around and, on the flight over in Deck’s plane, which was a cargo plane, we’d discussed all outcomes and who took lead on what. We’d had a blueprint of the building we knew belonged to Moreno, but couldn’t confirm it until Juan. Now, we had confirmation.
Tyler shook Juan’s hand. “Good man, Juan.”
I opened my bag and passed him another ten grand and Juan smiled then took off.
“Not sure which is worse, back in the dry heat of Afghanistan or this sticky, humid shit,” Tyler said as he ran his hand across his damp brow. “Thinking I like sand right about now.”
“You might think differently sitting in a pit in the dry heat,” Tristan muttered.
My eyes locked with his and there was a mutual respect gained between us. Tristan had spent years at the farm in Afghanistan. He knew what it was like and instead of burying what happened to him, he fuckin’ uprooted it by spending his life making something of himself in order to get Chess and shut Vault down.
Had a hard time respecting any man, but I was beginning to respect every one of them. I was beginning to give a shit about them, too.
“We make our move now. Not dusk,” I ordered and brows lifted, all eyes shifting to me. “Moreno isn’t going to give a shit about the kids even if they’ve been conditioned for years. He cares about how he looks to others. We take his farm, it damages his pride and makes him look vulnerable. That’s what we play on.”
“Agreed,” Vic said. He crouched at the side of the building, his binoculars out as he surveyed the yard. “Give me an hour for habits.” He was looking for vulnerable spots, finding the habits of the watchdogs in the compound.
Ernie was talking to Tristan and they were putting on their headsets. Ernie was good. He knew what this op entailed and what would happen if it went south.
Deck offloaded his gear. “Okay,”—he glanced at his watch—“two hours.”
Tyler dropped his bag and took out his laptop and powered it on.
I stared at the building, and despite the heat, the cold wash of familiarity of this place hit me. “I can tell you where they will be the second the watchdogs radio trouble.” Tyler stopped typing. “I know every inch of that place.” I was sixteen when the farm moved here, so I spent two years here before I was assigned to Georgie.
There was silence for a few seconds. Then I turned, and Deck chin-lifted to me and started walking away from the group. I followed.
“You going to be solid?” he asked.
I stiffened, brows rising at his question, but I knew where it came from. Bad shit… really bad shit happened here. “I’m solid.”
Deck nodded, his brows low as he continued to walk until we reached the opposite side of the building. “Don’t trust you, Kai, and my men are going into this without much intel. And we are because there are kids involved and losing them isn’t an option. Moreno living isn’t an option.” His stance was wide as he met my eyes, unflinching and direct. “You have anything to share, do it now.”
Deck had men who had his back because he gave a shit. It was the complete opposite as to what I was accustomed. Operatives from Vault did missions on their own and we didn’t care about one another because we were conditioned not to care. Getting an assignment or mission done took precedence over all else—even lives.
And that sat heavily on me. It rubbed me wrong and it was wrong.
But I did have something to share. “London.” Deck nodded. “Anything happens to me, make sure she stays safe.”
His scowl deepened. “Everyone gets out alive. You can look after your own fuckin’ woman.” He slapped me on the back and it was a surprising gesture coming from Deck. “Don’t like you, Kai, but I get you now. So, I’ll let you live and I’ll have your back.”
The corners of my lips curved up. “No invites to Sunday brunches at your place?”