Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 73230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“Yo?” Wolf answered.
“I need you to meet me,” I gave him the address. “I found the stalker.”
“You’re shitting me. That fast? I couldn’t find a damn thing on him. Who found it?” Wolf sounded alert.
He sounded as if he were outside, and I was grateful that he was dropping everything to help.
“Rhea,” was all I said.
“Shit, that girl’s good,” he said. “I’ll gather the boys and meet you there. Don’t go in until we get there.”
I wouldn’t. I didn’t want to fuck this up.
Not with how my heart was hurting right then.
Nothing had happened yet, but I wasn’t willing to wait for it to happen.
The drive to the address was short.
It immediately set me on edge with how close it was to Tasha’s place, or at least what used to be her place.
I pulled to the side of the building, the furthest spot away from the apartment that our man was in, and shut the engine off.
Luckily, it was under a large Magnolia tree, meaning nearly all of me was concealed by the drooping branches that hung all the way to the ground.
Pulling my binoculars out, I surveyed the parking lot first before moving them to focus on apartment 6B.
George Lucas Jones was a twenty-six-year-old man who lived on disability and had been since he was in his late teens.
He’d moved back to Uncertain a year ago after living near Dallas for seven years.
Idly, I wondered what brought him back here and what made him leave in the first place, but that thought flew out the proverbial window when the sound of tailpipes started to filter through the quiet streets.
Slowly, one by one, every single one of the members of The Uncertain Saints came to a stop directly behind me.
“Got anything?” Peek asked.
Peek wasn’t an active member of the armed forces, but he had a shit load of experience having served in Desert Storm.
He was active Army for over thirty-years before he retired to open his shop, and I would trust him with my life.
Something I often did.
“Not a damn thing,” I murmured, handing over the binoculars.
He took them and scanned the parking lot before handing them back.
I took the time to scan the faces behind me.
Mig. Griffin. Wolf. Peek. Core. Ridley.
Six of the best men I’d ever had the pleasure of meeting.
“Ready when you are,” Ridley took off his badge and slipped on his cut.
He didn’t get to wear his cut as often as the rest of us since he actually had to be in uniform while he worked. And with him working five days a week, it was rare that I saw him with it on during the daylight hours.
“Give us the details, then you three take the back,” Peek pointed at Wolf, Core, and Ridley. “And the rest of us will take the front.”
I gave them an abbreviated version of the information that Rhea was able to pull up.
“So, he’s twenty-six. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. And he’s disabled. But the motherfucker can apparently wield a gun. Lovely,” Griffin grumbled darkly upon hearing my words.
I agreed with him.
If the man was able to shoot me with almost professional precision, then I wondered if he was really even disabled at all.
“What’s his disability?” Ridley asked as he smoothed his hair back from his face with one hand.
I pulled out the DMV results that Rhea procured for me and read.
“Says he’s got a limited range of motion due to skin lesions,” I answered.
My gut started screaming with something I couldn’t quite understand, but Wolf interrupted that thought before it could fully take form.
“Well, let’s do this. I only have daycare for another four hours,” Wolf muttered.
We all double checked our guns, making sure that they were fully loaded before we split into the two groups Peek had assigned us to.
We split off at the base of the apartment building, one group going up the stairs to the front door, and the others going to the back door.
I knew from the information I’d been able to pull up while waiting that the apartment that George lived in was a two bedroom, one bath. There was a fire escape at the back that the others could use to access the back balcony, so if he felt threatened and tried to escape that way, they’d be there to intercept him.
I knocked, hoping he’d actually answer the door.
And he did.
He threw the door open like he didn’t have a care in the world.
However, the moment he saw me, he froze.
“Fuck,” he hissed as he tried to slam the door.
I stopped it with a hand, freezing the door before it could move more than six inches.
“I’m guessing you know me,” I observed.
He sneered.
“Yeah, I fucking know you,” he agreed.
My brows rose.
“Well then, enlighten me as to why you think it’s okay to shoot at people holding little kids?” I hissed, moving forward.