Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Dylan looks across at me, panic evident on his face.
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. First, we need to find Hale. At this rate, we might be at it all night.”
Beside me, Dylan visibly relaxes.
“Why are you so adamant about finding him?”
“Because Dylan wants to.”
“Damn, Rodriguez’s blowjob skills must be—”
“You’re on speaker, jackass.”
“I know. Hi, Rogue.”
Dylan smiles. “Hey, Domino.”
“Oh, sure. To Domino, he’s all smiles and niceties,” I say dryly.
“It’s because I’m better than you, brother,” Domino says.
“Hey, Dylan, did I ever tell you how Domino got the name Domino?”
Dom cuts in. “It’s because when I take women out, they all fall for me like dominos.”
“Not true at all. He was so drunk one night on leave, he stumbled and knocked over a table. Which bumped into another one. And then another one, and then another one.”
Dylan throws his head back as he lets out a deep laugh. “You’re lucky your name wasn’t Clumsy Fuck.”
“I tried for that one, but it was vetoed,” I say.
“And now that I hate you both, I’m going to go.” Domino goes to cut off the call, when I stop him.
“Dom, don’t stay at HQ alone. Dylan and I barely escaped back there. These aren’t amateurs.”
“I can handle myself.”
“Fine. But when you die, just remember, I win.” I glance at Dylan. “We made a bet back when we were Rangers. Last man standing wins bragging rights for all eternity. Even when we come back as ghosts and haunt everyone we know.”
“I’m not going to die,” Domino says. “You’ll have a heart attack and die before me, old man. I’m out.”
He ends the call, and while I do have faith that Domino can handle himself, if Dylan hadn’t been with me, I might not have gotten off the ranch tonight. No matter how experienced, how tough, how badass someone is, no one is invincible.
“Old man?” Dylan asks.
“Domino is literally eleven months younger than me, the fucker.”
Dylan laughs again, and I could die right here and now with the memory of how happy he sounds when I know he’s far from it.
“Thank you,” Dylan says as his face slowly falls. The last couple of days, his laughter, his smiles, hell, even the postorgasmic glow he had this morning … none of them have lasted long.
“For what?”
“For not making me give up on finding Hale yet.”
“I know this is important to you.” Even if I think it’s a waste of time and it puts him in unnecessary danger.
I drive slowly through the side streets and alleyways so Dylan can get a good look at the countless people without a home. Some I’ve seen around, some are new, but they all break my heart.
And then, as we turn another corner, Dylan sits up straighter and leans forward. “That’s him.”
“Where?” I ask.
He points. “The guy in the khaki hoodie.”
“How do you know? You can’t see his face.”
“I’ve worked with him for years. I know what he looks like when he’s trying to be inconspicuous.”
Hale’s walking with his head down, his hands in his pockets, but as if sensing he’s being watched, he lifts his head and glances around the street before resuming to hide his face.
“He looks paranoid,” I say.
“We need to talk to him.”
I slow the car as we approach, but Hale walks faster. Then, in a quick second, he turns and makes eye contact with me. Then with Dylan. Hale takes off running.
“Fuck,” Dylan hisses.
“I’m on him.” I speed up to cut him off, but when we pass him, he changes direction and runs down a small foot alley in between buildings.
“Let me out. I’ll chase him on foot,” Dylan says.
I stop the car, and Dylan jumps out, running after Hale at lightning speed. I had no idea Dylan was so … agile.
Damn, that’s attractive.
There isn’t a spot to park along this street, and people are already laying on their horns to get me to move.
“Shit.” I hit the steering wheel and take off, turning into the very next street to loop the block and hopefully cut off our mark at the end of the alley.
This street is just as bad for parking, but there’s less foot traffic, so I drive up onto the sidewalk and block off the alleyway.
I jump out but not before grabbing a Glock from my glove box and shoving it in my waistband in case I need it.
The alley looks empty when I round the corner, but then I see something up ahead—shadowy movement behind a dumpster.
Dylan comes running from the opposite way, but when he sees me and no one else, he holds his arms wide as if to say, Where is he?
I pull my gun and aim it toward the dumpster.
Dylan mouths, “Overkill,” to me.
We move in at the same pace, me still aiming my gun, Dylan trying to signal to me to put it away.