Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Come on,” Layna said, running down the narrow basement steps.
I followed more slowly, not wanting to fall with Bonnie in my arms.
“No,” Bonnie whimpered, grabbing at me when I lowered her down onto one of the beds in the basement.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. I have to go. Take care of her,” I demanded, looking at Layna and Luna, then turning and running.
Nothing had ever felt as wrong as running away from Bonnie right then.
Layna ran up the stairs behind me.
“Don’t open for anyone but us,” I said.
“I know the drill,” Layna said as I moved onto the upper floor.
Behind me, the door slammed. The locks slid into place. And then the medieval bar slid down as well.
If someone worked at it long enough, they would get in. The door was steel reinforced. But any door could be removed or blown off.
But it would take a fuckuva lot of time.
By then, the people inside could get themselves into either the walk-in gun safe or up into the glass room.
It was deceptive to call it that. It wasn’t exactly glass. It was some super specialized material made from a government defense contractor. Word was it could withstand any bullet. And most types of explosions.
Once the ladder was pulled up and the door shut, there was no way in.
I knew Layna and Luna knew that.
My worry was that they would struggle to get a terrified Bonnie up that tall, steep ladder.
I had no idea which of the guys was in the glass room. But I had to believe that whoever it was, they would be strong enough to be able to have Bonnie piggyback up the ladder.
She was in good hands.
I needed to focus.
Hugging the wall, I made my way toward the back door of the clubhouse, confused by the lack of return fire as more pops were squeezed off.
My stomach sank, wondering if they were down. Shot. Hurt. Dead.
A sweat broke out across my forehead, and a buzzing started in my ears.
No, damnit.
I needed to focus.
I threw open the back door and eased my way outside.
Only to freeze one step out when I found Dezi standing in the middle of the backyard, a ridiculously open target.
“Dezi, the fuck?” Fallon growled.
But he ignored the boss as he took another step out, leaned down, and picked up something off the ground.
“It’s not gunshots,” he said, smiling in the face of potential danger as he moved back to us. “They’re fucking snappers,” he added. Then he tossed it to the ground, where it made several loud bangs. “Homemade snappers,” he added. “More bang than the usual ones. But harmless.”
“Where the fuck did they come from?” Fallon asked, looking around.
“And are they just a distraction?” I asked, grabbing Fallon by the vest and pulling him closer to the building.
“Could be some sort of launcher,” Dezi said.
“Or a drone,” Rune added.
“No one saw anyone or anything?” Fallon asked.
“No. And I was out here first,” Croft added.
“Everyone get back inside,” Fallon demanded. “Everyone,” he added when Dezi started to argue. “Someone get me the fucking camera feed.”
“There’s… cameras?” Perish asked, looking sheepish.
“Relax. I don’t care who you fuck and where. I need to know how those things got all around the yard without one of our men seeing shit. You,” Fallon said, looking at me. “Got anything?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do snappers have any significance to you?”
“Aside from once putting them under the toilet seats in school, no.”
Fallon sucked in a deep breath. “Did you do that with friends? If so, might those friends be pissed at you?”
“The only person who was pissed at me was my father. I worked alone.” At his dubious look, I added, “We moved around a lot. Some places I made friends easier than others. That town didn’t take kindly to my ass. So I scared the shit out of theirs. Before you ask, no one was hurt. And I doubt anyone even remembers me from then.”
To that, Fallon grumbled.
He wanted something, anything to go on.
“I don’t think there’s an actual link. I think this is… meant to scare us. Psychological warfare shit.”
“That’s gotta be it, right?” Dezi asked. “It’s gotta be about those days. Kill anyone with relatives who might want revenge?”
“Dozens, man,” I admitted, shrugging. “Maybe hundreds. Figure all of them had loved ones left behind.”
“Seems extreme to me, though, right?” Rune asked. “Who would come all the way over here, track down Sully, and play mind games with him?”
“Think you underestimate how unhinged grief can make some people,” Nave said. “Knew someone who once did a full-scale investigation into who poisoned his dog. Then slowly dismantled his entire life before beating him into a coma.”
“Is the dog okay?” Voss asked.
“He ended up with neurological problems,” Nave said. “But he pulled through.”
“And back to the present,” Fallon said. “Start working on a list,” he told me.