Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 82187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
God stood.
“Well, that remains to be seen. I need two chemical experts, ones that got balls. You jumped into a dangerous situation while everyone else was running.”
“I’m not law enforcement, nor do I wanna be,” Wes argued. “My answer is no.”
“I’m not asking,” God said plainly. “I have meth labs popping up all over this city. My task force has the muscle, but we’re lacking in—”
“What do we get if we help you?”
“Shut up, Law!”
“Both of you shut up,” Syn said, uncuffing them, “I’m already getting a headache.”
Wes wanted to bolt the moment the cuffs came off, then God said the magic words.
“We’ll get you back to Hollywood,” God answered.
Law’s eyes widened as he rubbed at the marks on his wrists.
The scary lieutenant picked up the file.
“You’re both notorious for bad press. Anytime the two of you are mentioned, it’s because of a fuckup. We’ll get your names on the news, but it won’t be because you set a woman on fire.”
“That was not done on purpose, we—”
God put his hand up. “Save it. I don’t care. By helping us save lives and protect innocents, it’ll show you’re not the selfish pricks who were booted out on your asses last year. I guarantee the producers will come crawling back.”
Wes scoffed. “And if I still say no?”
The lieutenant scoffed back. “You don’t.”
God left, the door slamming shut behind him as if he always got the final word.
Law trailed behind him through the precinct like a shadow made of gasoline, only needing one spark to ignite something furious within him.
Wes’s heart was pounding, his breathing tight and labored. One-quarter was fear and three-quarters was anger. The weight of that proposal sat on his chest, heavy and suffocating.
How the hell did I get myself back in the thick of it with Law? Fuck me.
“Wes, stop running.”
Damn that voice that was always so carefree and full of confidence.
I need to run…far away from you.
“Come on, man. This is a win.” Law’s footsteps quickened. “Okay, so it’s not the original plan, but this can just be plan B—”
Wes spun around.
“You think I give a damn about your plans?”
He and Law were so close they almost headbutted each other.
“You promised we were gonna play it straight. You said no more fighting, no more explosions…no fuckin’ felony arson.” Wes pinched the bridge of his nose. “You couldn’t give me one normal week.”
Law sighed.
“And what did we end up doing? Jumping into a drug war between a meth cartel and a task force that makes Navy SEALs look like a junior varsity team.
“I get it. You’re mad,” Law said softly, stepping forward. “But you agreed to help them.”
“He said we couldn’t say no!” Wes argued. “That muscle-milk freak doesn’t look like the kinda guy who takes refusals very well.”
“Wes…” Law’s voice dipped to that raspy tone that never failed to make his cock jerk, and those maddening, stupid hazel eyes darkened into something beautiful. Imagine us using our skills to make a real difference, not just for entertaining.”
Law brushed his hip with the back of his hand, and Wes shoved it away.
“Fuck off.”
Law’s grin cracked a little.
Why’d he always think sex would fix everything wrong between them? Okay, well, most of the time it did…however, not this time.
Law had really fucked up. Not only were they still blocklisted with no chance of getting back in anytime soon, now they were balls-deep in trouble with a man who was actually called God.
“I’m going home. Don’t follow me,” he muttered, turning his back on Law.
It stung, and his heart split, but he didn’t stop.
Lawson (Law) Sheppard
Law sat in his Explorer at one in the morning, just long enough for the silence to feel accusatory.
He’d said too much earlier…and not done enough.
He threw a couple of gadgets in his jacket pockets, cut the engine, and got out.
His conscience was pressing and heavy on him, judging.
Barham Park was dark and empty, the perfect place to go to release pent-up tension and anger.
He stood a few yards away, watching as Wes lit a fuse with his Zippo, the rope quickly sizzling toward the large dumpster.
A burst of fire roared upward, making Law duck out of reflex, as twelve-foot flames illuminated the night sky.
“Jesus, Wes…”
The dumpster was engulfed in a column of fire, twisting oranges with flashes of teal and purple colors that didn’t exist in a natural flame.
Only Wes could make such destruction look like a goddamn live Picasso.
Wes walked away from the blast without a backward glance, like a man leaving behind a confession booth full of rage. Head down. Shoulders tense.
Wes still didn’t see Law as he crouched near the curb with his phone propped against a rusty lamp pole, rewatching the blast on-screen like a director critiquing a take.
Law took two micro pods out of his side pocket and cracked the seals with practiced ease. A dense, translucent fog unfurled, slow and dramatic, that crept across the pavement, engulfing the darkness with a blanket of white.