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)
Tech and Ruxs stood at the same time.
“Cool,” Ruxs said. “Let’s go make the drop.”
Mark stood with them.
Then bolted.
He shot toward the back entrance, slamming into a waiter carrying a tray of drinks.
Glasses flew in the air before crashing to the floor. A woman screamed as chaos spread through the back of the restaurant.
Xander flinched, his eyes widening.
Ruxs and Green moved without a beat of hesitation, both tearing after Mark through the service corridor. Tech pivoted, stepping away from the stunned waiter and cutting toward Xander’s table.
Cassidy was already there.
He hooked Xander under his arm, hauling him out of his chair and into his body.
“We’re leaving.”
“What’s happening?” Jesse demanded, standing.
Cassidy didn’t answer—he had no time for questions.
Xander stumbled once but kept up.
Tech appeared in front of them, making a hole through the scattering crowd of employees.
“Starlight is mobile. Cover and evac. Slade, bring transport to rear connect point. Wheels hot.”
Slade’s voice came through for the first time, flat and steady. “Copy that. Vehicle moving.”
God had flown in their new driver that morning.
Slade was a retired Army sergeant with convoy experience, trained in evasive driving who specialized in high-threat transportation. Most of all he was a professional who understood and respected anonymity.
Tech lifted his voice as they exploded through the kitchen doors. “Clear the lane.”
People moved.
Cassidy kept Xander tucked close, his body between him and every opening.
Behind them, Jesse was still calling Xander’s name, but Cassidy didn’t slow.
They hit the rear exit and the black Suburban skidded to a sharp stop.
Cassidy got Xander into the back and climbed in beside him, crowding close as Tech took the front passenger seat.
Slade pulled out hard enough to throw Xander into his chest as he burned rubber out of the alley.
Xander was pale, his wide eyes sweeping the street, searching faces, every alleyway, and possible place danger could hide. His breaths came too fast, and his fingers kept twisting in Cassidy’s shirt, clinging without awareness, as if his body had chosen him as his anchor before his mind could catch up.
He caught Xander’s cheek and turned his face to him.
“Look at me.”
Xander’s gaze fought him for a second before he finally locked on.
“Everything’s fine,” he said. “We’re just being cautious.”
Xander swallowed.
“You’re okay.” Cassidy kept his voice even, leaving no space for doubt. “I promise.”
Xander gave him a shaky nod.
He slid his hand from Xander’s cheek to the back of his neck, keeping him steady. “Breathe with me.”
Xander lowered his gaze to his mouth and mimicked the way his lips moved.
He listened to the comms feed while he helped Xander calm down.
“Rabbit’s moving fast. Southbound on Vesper Lane.” Green reported, wind cutting through the line.
“Little bastard’s fast for a guy who skipped lunch,” Ruxs added.
“Don’t lose him, Green,” Free said. “He’s our only lead.”
“Copy that, were gonna box him in.”
“Stay tactical guys,” Tech said, voice sharp. “Don’t overdo—”
The warning was cut off by a blast of horns, and a crash so loud Cassidy flinched away.
“I’m being robbed!” a man yelled.
Sirens whooped in the distance.
Police voices crackled through Ruxs and Green’s open channel.
“LAPD! Get on the ground! Hands behind your heads! Do it now!”
Ruxs chuckled, not even winded. “Um, Free?”
Free’s answer was flat. “Nice going.”
“I think you better call God,” Green murmured.
Tech slumped down in the front seat. “And trouble strikes again.”
Cassidy closed his eyes.
Day
Day hated nice police stations on principle.
He was used to Atlanta’s station, where the lights flickered when it stormed, the break room smelled like burnt coffee, the walls were scuffed and scarred, and half the chairs had been repaired with duct tape.
The bullpen was overrun with phones ringing, outdated printers sputtering, detectives cursing, citizens complaining and needing help, and his captain threatening someone’s life and career before nine in the morning.
The LAPD precinct lobby was lavish with steel, glass, and warm lighting that made everyone look as if they’d just started their shift.
The floors were polished, real potted plants lined the walls, and a coffee station sat near the far corner with carafes and a tray of fresh pastries as if they’d just been fucking delivered.
A reception desk staffed with five officers in starched uniforms helped people check in at a digital kiosk.
Day made a low irritated groan.
Free leaned toward him. “If you say anything ridiculous, I’m going to laugh, and we need to be taken seriously.”
“We are serious,” Day muttered. “I seriously hate this place.”
Tech adjusted the cuff of his shirt beneath his vest. “Well, it’s clean.”
Steele made a quiet sound that might’ve been agreement or indigestion.
God was silent, walking slightly ahead of them, because of course he did.
His husband moved through the lobby as though he owned the building, everything inside it and within a ten-mile radius.
His long hair was loose around his shoulders, falling over the tight white T-shirt stretched across his chest and arms. His faded jeans sat low on his hips, held by a thick black leather belt. He wore his badge around his neck, resting on his chest like a warning label.