Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 125248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
He powered the phone on.
The screen glowed black with a white flashing curser.
He typed one sentence the man on the other end would understand.
I need your kind of help.
He hit send.
The message marked as delivered.
A couple of seconds later, it marked as read.
No reply came.
A chill ran through him, as if something in the dark had turned its head towards him.
God closed his hand around the phone.
What the fuck did I just do?
He’d invited the devil to Los Angeles…
…and he was on his way.
God
By 2 a.m., God had learned that patience was a lot harder to fake when every man in the room was watching him.
Five fucking hours since the panic alarm had gone off in their ears. Five hours of watching four people God loved and had sworn to protect sit zip-tied on a warehouse floor while nine armed men paced around them with guns, greed, and an appetite for revenge.
God stood staring out of the window of the suite because sitting was impossible.
But he also didn’t pace.
Pacing fueled panic. Pacing told the room the man everyone looked to for answers didn’t know what to do with his own body. So he stood still and let the storm rage around him.
Everyone else was close to losing their minds.
Genesis wanted Curtis back in his arms, it wracked every inch of him. He sat forward on the edge of the couch with his elbows on his knees and his hands locked together so tightly his knuckles had gone white.
Cassidy hadn’t sat down once. Not once in five hours.
He stood glaring out of the other window, one hand braced on the glass, shoulders rigid. Every few minutes he turned toward the screens where Xander sat with his hands bound in front of him, trying too hard to stay quiet. Then he’d turn back to the window, jaw working, body humming with a wrath that had nowhere to go…legally.
Ruxs and Green were worse in a different way.
They moved in short, sharp patterns around the room, never far from each other, never far from Genesis, both waiting for permission to do what they did best. Rain down trouble.
Their son had been taken and was tied up, and bleeding. The only reason Ruxs and Green hadn’t destroyed Los Angeles was because God had told them not to.
Steele stood near the far wall, still as ice except for the smooth iron baoding balls rotating in his right hand. His fingers and thumb moved with slow, practiced control, circling the ancient Chinese tools—meant to lower stress and sharpen focus—around each other in his palm.
The man he loved was trapped somewhere across the city, unarmed, pretending his glasses were just glasses while two kidnappers kept circling, hoping he’d step out of line, just once.
Tech and Free stayed quiet on the open line.
They didn’t ask what the plan was. Didn’t ask if God had one. They just stayed still, alive, trusting him to find a way.
That trust was a motherfucker of weight God could feel on his shoulders, grinding down into muscle and bone.
He’d spent his entire career making the impossible happen because his team expected it from him—kick down the door. Find the witness. Stop the shooter. Get the drugs off the streets.
He’d pulled successes out of nothing, dragged survivors from the trenches, and forced justice through the gaping holes in the system.
He thought he’d experienced it all.
He hadn’t.
This was family, and the law had his fucking hands tied behind his back.
He couldn’t tell the room his plan until he knew he was actually coming.
“Where’s your backup, God?” Cassidy’s voice cut across the suite.
Everyone looked at him.
Cassidy’s dark eyes were bloodshot and weary. “You said you sent for help. Where are they?”
God didn’t answer, because he didn’t have one.
Not really.
All he had was a black phone, one text message, and the trust that the man he’d called would honor his word and come when he sent for him.
On screen, Xander shifted, and squirmed on the unforgiving concrete.
One of the kidnappers barked at him to stop moving.
Cassidy flinched as if the command had struck him physically.
Day stepped closer to God, close enough their shoulders touched. He didn’t say anything. His presence was reassurance, a reminder that whatever happened, he wouldn’t be standing alone.
Another hour crawled by in pieces.
Fox’s voice finally came through the speakers.
“God.”
The room snapped toward the screen where Fox’s face stared back from his ranch office. His cap was turned backwards on his head now, his expression hard and focused, the glow of Free’s system painting his face in cold light.
God stepped closer. “What?”
“You’ve got visitors.”
God almost sagged. Almost. Thank fuck.
“Let ’em up.”
Fox glanced at another monitor. “They’ve cleared the lobby. Free’s backdoor still has control of the elevator bank. I’m bringing them to your floor now.”
Cassidy turned from the window.
Ruxs and Green stopped moving.
Steele unfolded himself from the wall.