Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Done.” Seventeen places his credit card down on the counter. “And who knows? Maybe I’ll just purchase one myself after we’re done.” He cuts me a cocky glimpse. “Customize it too. Even better than his.”
“We do sell firearms and aftermarket accessories as well as care equipment.” Anne hits him with a round of finger guns. “The Hunt Locker is Dalvegan’s number one stop shop for all your firearm needs.”
Fighting the urge to put him in his place is done by patting my boss roughly on the back. “How about just the rifle for now, Anne?”
“You two got it.”
She summons over Laura Fay, the strawberry blonde working the other counter, and I do my best to nonchalantly turn on my heels.
Face the opposite direction.
Not have direct eye contact with a woman I may have almost gotten fired for bending over the counter after hours.
She can’t really be fired.
Her brother’s married to Anne.
“Wahl,” Laura sweetly calls out in a high-pitched tone, “long time no see.”
And if I don’t turn around that’ll still be true.
“Don’t waste your breath flirtin’ with him today, honey,” Anne swiftly scolds. “He’s a taken man.”
The scoff of disbelief that leaves her sends shivers down my spine. “Since when?”
“For a while now,” is the answer that feels most honest leaving my lips.
“Yeah, but I just ‘saw’ you not too long ago.”
True.
A little too fucking true.
But what can I say?
Repeats around movie marathons with Arley and BBQs with her family occasionally happen.
Sometimes I just don’t have the time or energy to go out to a bar, grab a beer, and two-step for forty-five minutes until I can get the little cowgirl that’s been eye fuckin’ me all night to rodeo me in the back of my truck.
Sometimes I need efficiency that isn’t from my hand.
Well.
Needed.
I’m done with that lifestyle.
“How not too long ago?” Seventeen needlessly investigates.
“I don’t know?” Her questioning tone has me glancing over my shoulder. “What was it? Like six weeks ago?”
“Ah, well, don’t worry…Laura…is it?” My boss nefariously inserts. “I’m sure he’ll be back on the wall for taking again soon enough.” A haughty laugh escapes the man who holds too much power for his own good, warranting my gaze to wander to his. “Pun intended.”
Hm.
Is fragging really that wrong?
What if your superior honestly has it coming?
Thankfully, the process of getting Seventeen a weapon, his credit card charged, and out to the secluded space doesn’t take too much time nor does it require any additional conversation or accusations from the woman who made sure to whisper in my ear prior to our exit that she won’t tell my girlfriend, if I don’t.
After visually sweeping the entire stretch of the sections to guarantee we are in fact the only ones out there, I lead us to the area farthest from the entrance and place my case on the counter, making sure to keep my head down so that most of my face can’t be seen. “There’s visual but no audio.”
Seventeen places his case beside mine. “Understood.”
“It’s gonna look like I’m explainin’ shit to you about this, so do your best to look like your tryin’ to learn.”
“Yeah, I understand basic principle of a covert op, Wahl.”
“Then act like it.” I deliver the object he needs to open a single glance. “Unpack your weapon.”
He nods and keeps his head down during the process. “What can you tell me about the status of this assignment?”
“Not much.”
“Has there been progress?”
“Not a lot.”
“Do you have any leads?”
“Nothing solid.”
“Then why the hell are we meeting?” He damn near slams the weapon onto the counter. “What is the point of this briefing if you’ve got nothing to report to me? If you’ve got nothing for me to give the other numbers?”
“Arley’s still alive.” I cut him a cold glare. “Give them that.”
Seventeen briefly presses his lips together before copying my actions of inspecting the firearm. “It’s not that we don’t care that she’s alive, Wahl. We want Arley alive. We care about her wellbeing. She possesses great value to the company. She is quite an asset to have. She-”
“Forfuckssake, could you stop givin’ me the rehearsed speech you were instructed to fuckin’ give?” Slowly shaking my head is attached to placing the magazine down on the surface. “You got somethin’ you really wanna say? Fuckin’ say it, Seventeen.”
“I don’t think you’re the right man for this job.”
There’s no delay in meeting his hard stare again.
“I didn’t think you were the right man when you took the job.”
Clenching my jaw is unconsciously done.
“It’s been weeks and the most you have to report to me is that you’ve managed to keep her alive. Congratulations, Wahl. You are capable of doing the basic bitch minimum of any operative fresh out of training. She needed a bodyguard, so you volunteered for the assignment; however, that was only half of the operation. The other half? The other half instructs you to find and eliminate the threat, which you have not only failed to do but failed to yield any sort of progress on. If you were any other agent in this company, you would’ve been pulled off this case by now, and the only reason you haven’t been yet is because Arley swears on her fucking career that you are the only man for the mission. That against all calculations, analysis, and evaluations that say otherwise, you are the only person who can handle this. So, why don’t you give me something to verify that her relationship with you isn’t derailing her ability to do her goddamn job.”