Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
We move with stealth and precision, the type of flow that can only come with years of intense, crucial training. Even now after being at the top of my game for the past decade, I won’t dare skip out on my training. We’re always bettering ourselves, always finding new ways to excel as a team.
We fan out under the radar, covering every corner of the room until we have him surrounded.
“What’s your name, man?” Diesel asks in that too calm tone that could convince me to jump straight into an active volcano as he holds the suspect’s attention.
The suspect narrows his gaze as though trying to figure out Diesel’s angle, but coming up with nothing, he gives in. “Ry—Rykin.”
“Rykin, I’m Diesel,” he says. “I bet this isn’t how you intended your day to turn out, huh?”
Rykin scoffs as I survey the situation with a keen eye, watching his response to each of Diesel’s questions. “That’s an understatement.”
“Listen, I’m here to help you. You don’t want to be here. You seem like a good kid. How about we find a solution that gets everyone out of here without anybody getting hurt?”
Rykin stares at Diesel before glancing back at the hostages, only his gaze lingers on the young woman cowering in front of him, tears streaking down her cheeks. “No,” he says, a manic desperation flashing in his eyes. “No. It’s too late for that.”
“Why’s it too late, Rykin? Talk to me. I’m right here. All you have to do is let these people go, open the door, and then we can talk it through, figure out how to get what you need.”
“No,” he says more firmly, his grip tightening on the hostage in his arms, and he presses the blade to her neck so tightly that she whimpers. “NO. SHUT UP. I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING. YOU’RE TRYING TO GET IN MY HEAD, BUT IT WON’T WORK. IT’S TOO LATE.”
His hands tremble, and the hostage becomes frantic, her eyes darting around the store, trying to figure out her own game plan.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath as my team discreetly inches closer, more than ready to take action as it becomes increasingly clear that Rykin isn’t going to entertain negotiations.
“Why don’t you let me in?” Diesel prompts, stepping closer toward the locked door, and making a show of releasing his weapon, trying to appear as an ally. “You don’t want to hurt these people.”
Rykin’s breathing becomes labored and erratic, and his gaze darts around the room, trying to figure out an escape, but I’ve seen that look a million times before. If he’s going down, he’s taking as many hostages with him as possible, but I won’t let that happen on my watch.
The woman locked in his hold is going to be an issue though. She’s too worked up, too scared, and just as I make a slight movement, trying to catch her eye to let her know we have the situation under control, she makes her move, slamming her elbow back into Rykin’s gut with one hell of a battle cry.
The people around her gasp in horror as Rykin lets out a pained scream, his eyes snapping to the woman almost as if in slow motion. She shoves him away, his bladed hand inching away just enough for her to throw herself forward.
She crashes to the ground and immediately tries to scramble away, but Rykin is too close to the fucking edge, and without hesitation, he throws himself after the woman, the blade coming down in a shallow arc.
BANG!
My weapon rings out with a direct kill shot right between Rykin’s eyes. His body goes limp before he’s even hit the ground, and all I can do is shake my head, all too aware of the paperwork that’s going to follow.
16
KNIGHT
My team all but broke through the door of the locker room after we arrived back at the station. That wasn’t exactly the outcome we were hoping for in the store, but once I saw the desperation in Rykin’s eyes, I knew that’s how it would end, and there’s no denying it, we feel every loss. Even the ones who deserved it.
It’s sad really. Not many of our hostage situations leave me guessing. The majority of the time, it comes down to pure stupidity mixed with an unfortunate amount of desperation, and nine out of ten times, it’s a deadly mix.
As I unload everything from my tactical belt with a heavy heart, my phone buzzes from within my locker with the familiar alert of my home security app. I quickly grab it and swipe my thumb across the screen just in time to see Harper striding out of my home, still wearing my old T-shirt.
A stupid smile pulls at the corner of my lips. There’s something about this woman in my clothes that does something wicked to me. Harper pauses on my front porch and turns around looking directly at the camera, and a deep curiosity pulses through me, wondering if maybe she forgot something. Only the curiosity disappears the moment she grips the hem of her shirt and raises it up, quickly flashing the camera with those perfect, pierced tits.