Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 108242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
“I don’t want odds. I want proof. I don’t care if he’s facedown, blue and bloated in that river. Until I see for myself that he can’t get to her again, this isn’t over.”
“King, it is over.”
“You don’t believe that. You just want me to stop harassing you about it while you keep searching because you need the same closure I do.”
His silence admits that I’m right.
“What about his partner?” I ask. “Get anything from him yet?”
“The body’s back in the States. We’re cross-referencing fingerprints and DNA with state records, FBI, Scotland Yard, every database available. We’re hoping there’s some biological or documented connection between the two of them that will also give us clues to Abe’s identity.”
Hearing the fake name for the masked man makes me grit my teeth. Coward hiding behind a mask and threatening my girl. Putting a gun to her head. Fury contracts the muscles in my belly.
“He called Nixon ‘Jack,’” I say, recalling the volatile scene by the river. “He was beyond distressed. I bet they’re related.”
“Yeah, I heard. We’ll get everything we can from the body and go from there.” Grim pauses and then sighs heavily. “Look, I know you said you’d be okay if you had to kill, but taking a life is some heavy shit. If you need—”
“Like a baby. That’s how I told you I’d sleep if I had to kill one of those motherfuckers to get Lennix back, and that is exactly how I plan to sleep tonight.” I glance at the closed door to Lennix’s bedroom where I hope she’s sleeping peacefully. “Like a baby.”
“All right.” A dark chuckle comes from Grim’s end of the line. “I knew you were a ruthless son of a bitch, but even I underestimated you. You handled yourself well, and you aimed straight. Right in the throat on the first shot. Not bad. You sure you shouldn’t have enlisted?”
The panic of those moments rushes back. Adrenaline coursed through every vein and deployed to every vital organ in my body when I saw that man pressing a gun to Lennix’s head. I knew something had to have gone wrong if Grim’s team wasn’t on their tail but didn’t have time to process that.
Grim had a location, and the team struck out for the cave where Lennix’s geotracker had led them. They must have been detected somehow because the team found six locals dead and the cave empty. Grim had half-joked about the action coming to me, but it did. I was in the trees, waiting for instructions, an update—something—when Abe and Nixon came into view, guns trained on Wallace and Lennix and headed for that boat. I didn’t even pause to think.
Aim. Fire.
It was as instinctive as when my father taught me to hunt. I felt more for the first deer I put down during hunting season than I did for that cretin who held Lennix hostage.
“King?” Grim asks again, all humor stripped from his voice and replaced by concern. “Maxim, you there? You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah.” I release an extended breath. “I’m sure. Just a long few days. And to answer your question, my father would have lost his shit if I’d enlisted. Owen, yeah. He could have, since the military looks good on your record when you’re running for president. But me? Nah. He wanted to keep me close so I could run his empire.”
Ironic, since wanting me close ended up pushing me so far away.
“Speaking of your brother,” Grim says, “thank him for the reinforcements. With those time constraints, pulling a team like that together would have been much tougher without him calling in some special ops favors for us.”
“Yeah. Between his guys and yours, we got it done. I know I was being a tyrannical asshole, but—”
“They had your girl. I would have been the same if I were in your shoes. And you know I’ll always have your back. How many scrapes have we gotten each other out of?”
“A helluva lot,” I answer with a chuckle, “but this one meant more than all the others combined.” Nix means more. Grim knows that better than anyone.
“How’s she doing?” he asks.
“Sleeping.”
“The doctor said she’s okay?”
The images of Lennix’s swollen, discolored cheek and the black and blue bruises ringing her neck, where that bastard choked her, haunt me, torture me. I want to fly back to Costa Rica and drain that damn river myself until I find him.
“Uh, yeah,” I reply, swallowing a fresh wave of rage. “The doctor said it’s just bruising and getting the drugs Abe gave her and Wallace out of her system.”
“They saw some intense shit. There could be some PTSD, some trauma, nightmares. The mental and emotional toll might be greater than anything we see on the outside.”
“Yeah, she has a therapist she sees regularly. They’ll discuss it in her sessions.”