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)
Wes?
The steel door to Free’s vault hissed open behind Hart.
Free emerged first, expression intense, his black sleeves shoved up over tattooed forearms, dark eyes shining like chips of onyx. Wes followed close behind him, flipping his Zippo open and shut.
He was in full gear. Combat pants snug around his thighs, heavy black boots, vest molded to his lean torso. A matte-black helmet shadowed his eyes, but a familiar grin curved his lips.
He had a massive duffel bag hanging from one shoulder, rattling with the weight of metal and explosives inside.
Law’s heart slammed so violently into his ribs he thought one might break.
For a second, the entire room blurred out, and all he saw was Wes.
The man who’d once painted the LA sky with fire just for him.
Law couldn’t breathe, his throat closing around the rush of emotion.
He wanted to scream, “What the fuck are you doing here? You’re supposed to be safe in LA, waiting for me to prove myself worthy of you.”
But instead, he just stared, blinking, mouth cinched tight to keep from breaking apart.
Wes didn’t look at anyone else as he crossed the room, not stopping until they were face-to-face.
He dropped his duffel at Law’s feet. And with a stern glare and molten-hot affection, he leaned in, voice low for only him to hear.
“You really think I’d let you go through the fire alone?” Wes let out a soft growl. “I never have, and I never will.”
Law clenched his fists until his knuckles cracked, fighting back the urge to drag Wes into the nearest empty hallway and kiss him senseless.
Instead, he managed to rasp, “I thought you—”
“Had your back, like always.”
Law swallowed the burning ache in his throat.
For the first time in days, he felt steady. He had confidence.
He was ready to do this.
Wesley (Wes) Drake
The air smelled like asphalt, piss, and rotten meat as Wes crouched behind a battered steel dumpster in the rear alley of the five-story apartment building.
Despite the nerves creeping down his spine like fire ants, he stayed still, every muscle strung tight, eyes locked on the back entrance.
The projection display flickered to life inside his visor, glowing faint red in the dark. It mapped doorways, thermal signatures Free was feeding in real-time, and silent comm messages scrolling at the edges of his vision.
Beside him, Law adjusted the matte-black helmet, eyes wide.
Wes wanted to touch him, but he stayed focused on the fight…not their love.
Above them, Michaels and Ro were in position on the opposite rooftop, their rifles aimed toward the doors.
Free whispered, his voice cool and low in his ear as if he were right beside him, “Thermals show seven heat signatures moving on the first floor. Hall service entrance clear for fifteen meters. Copy?”
Wes’s pulse thudded in his throat.
He cast a final look at Law, gripping his utility belt so tightly his gloves creaked.
“We’ll get through this,” Wes murmured, low enough only Law could hear.
“Steele and Tech will never leave your side,” Free said.
Oh yeah.
He forgot Free was always watching and listening.
Law’s gaze didn’t waver, but his jaw twitched hard.
“Stay close to me,” Law stressed.
Wes gave a sharp nod.
He’d come back for this—for Law, the team, and the promise he’d made.
He was a man of his word.
God’s gravelly voice cut through their comms. “Alpha team moving. Bravo, stand ready.”
Wes cut his eyes to God, Day, and Hart’s team standing close to each other at the far end of the alley, their black tactical gear blending them into the shadows.
Syn, Ruxs, and Green huddled farther up the wall, prepping flashbangs, checking the breach door. Ruxs cracked his neck like he was warming up for a bar fight.
“I hate these nonlethal weapons,” Ruxs muttered.
Green sighed. “We’ll live to kill another day, babe.”
“Seriously,” God gritted. “Shut the fuck up.”
Hart raised his gloved fist, chopped the edge of his hand twice across his chest, and pointed two fingers to his eyes before slicing them outward.
What the fuck?
Wes frowned. He had no idea what any of that meant until Free translated it for him.
“Two at a time. Sweep in a circular pattern. Watch for crossfire zones.”
“Uh, yeah, okay.”
The steel service door blew inward with a muffled thump as Syn’s breach charge split the lock.
“Atlanta PD SWAT! Down on the ground!”
Within a minute, panicked voices hollered a barrage of curses before the gunfire erupted. Bullets sparked off the concrete around Wes’s boots as he and Law lunged sideways, pressing his back to the doorway.
Steele, composed and silent, moved to Wes’s side.
Tech crouched in front of Law and returned fire with a Bryna Launcher, firing the .68 caliber chemical projectiles Law made.
“Hostiles moving west hallway,” Free called.
Once inside, the apartment building lobby was flooded with men fleeing in all directions—it was an active deal in progress—while firing wild shots behind their backs.
Steele spun around him, snapped his arm up, and fired a short burst of rubber bullets while Tech hit them with the irritants.