Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 61149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
“Jus’. November.”
“-kindly brought along quite an arsenal for us to choose from.”
The duffle bag containing the weapons is slightly lifted for display. “There are way more fucking benefits to doin’ what I do best in the private sector.”
“I wanna test my own,” Norm offhandedly declares with a head tap towards his rifle.
“Guns are messy but more importantly, they’re loud,” announces the blue-eyed addition I can’t deny is periodically glancing at me like I do a new Ferrari when I pass them by. “On a rescue mission, which I was informed this was, you want quiet. You wanna do big things with minimal mess.” Another glimpse at me precedes him speaking to the rest of the group. “And even less noise.”
Okay.
Yeah.
I see the eye fucking now.
First that dude at the car store.
Now this?
Does being engaged somehow make me hotter?
“There’s other gear in here that can assist in the operation. Knives. Smoke grenades. Flash grenades – although they make noise but stun the enemies’ senses long enough for a quieter takedown. Earplugs – those are recommended if we’re plannin’ on firing weapons at any point. Brass knuckles. Hatchet. Rope. Zip ties. Mace. Mini shovel-”
“Is that a wet work bag or a serial killer kit?” Garcia good naturedly goads getting the group to grin.
Brax merely winks in return.
AintnowayinNASCARcountry that he’s a serial killer.
Killer?
Without a doubt.
Killer for fun?
No.
That’s just not a decal I ever see him sporting.
“Do you have a plan?” inquires Post on an adjustment of his jeans.
“I had a plan,” grumbles the man that’s got his arm around me, “but it only took into count for the four of us.”
“Mind if Little November-”
“Jus’. November.”
“-tells you what he’s got?” Post casually asks. “I gave him a rundown on the situation as I knew it on our way to grab the others.”
Rather than wait for Nolan to answer, I investigate, “Whatchagot for us, Brax?”
The arm around me tightens just the slightest.
“Basic SS setup.” He drops the duffle beside him and splays an open palm. “That stands for sweep and strike or strike and sweep depending on the scenario.” Brax taps the air next to his hand. “Two vehicles. Three teams. We park on the dirt road on the far side of Steel’s property and travel the rest of the way on foot. Trees provide good coverage for us, although being cautious of the ground that managed to catch ice is imperative.” We dedicatedly watch his finger draw imaginary lines. “Team Alfa – that’s gonna be Post and Nolan – you’ll head for the main barn.” A new route is drawn. “Team Bravo – that’s gonna be Norm and Paolo – you’ll head for the sheds she had renovated into bridal and groom suites.” One last stretch is sketched. “Team Charlie – that’s gonna be me and Woods – will head for the stable. While you,” the casual pointing captures Garcia’s full attention, “will be left with transport. Your objective is to transport the target-”
“Our fiancée,” I harshly bite.
“Their fiancée,” quickly corrects Brax on a surrendering of his hands, “to a safe, undisclosed location until a codeword has been given at which point you can reveal the address.” He shoves his hands into his black pants pockets. “You have somewhere secure you can take her?”
“Yes.” Nodding is accompanied by him further insisting, “Absolutely.”
“Not a bad plan,” the love of my life concurs. “That’s actually a really fucking good plan.”
“Why am I not partnered with Nolan?” My stare is met by Brax’s. “Why can’t you go with Post and I go with him? It’s our girl we’re there to save.”
“That’s part of the reason,” he informs without reluctance. “Worst case scenario is that something happens. It’s better that it happens to one of you rather than both, leaving your fiancée only one body to bury.”
“She’s not burying either of us,” I unhappily huff.
“We will do everything possible to make that true,” Nolan agrees, gathering my gaze. “But-”
“Don’t.”
“But,” he reiterates harder, “November 2.0 makes a valid argument. Better Rabbit and our son have one of us rather than neither.”
Defiance revs in the back of my mind, yet I keep my mouth shut.
Nothing is going to happen to us.
Maybe a few more bumps or bruises, but we’re all walking away from this alive.
I’d bet our garage on it.
“The other reason,” Brax resumes speaking despite my glaring, “is because neither of you have any military or tactical training in your background. Splitting you up allows every person in the field to be accompanied by someone who has experience.”
My attention snaps directly over to the Norm and Paolo. “Which one of you has that?”
“Squid.” Norm proudly kicks his thumb inward. “Not self but country.” Pride positions itself undeniably in his expression. “And I feel that motto applies to our town.” His shoulders push themselves back. “Our. Home.”
Post delivers an encouraging pat to his back before declaring, “Let’s go defend our town, men.”