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)
The End…well, actually, just the beginning.
I hope you enjoyed meeting Law and Wes.
Their story continues as they put their pyrotechnic talents to use on God and Day’s elite task force.
Lawson (Law) Sheppard
Law walked with Wes down Mitchell Street after a mildly satisfying meal, enjoying not fighting long enough for him to appreciate the way the city’s lights hit Wes’s beard, making it appear blonder.
He’d missed him so much, but since reconnecting last week, it was as if they hadn’t been apart at all, still finishing each other’s sentences mid-argument.
“So you remember the visual effects coordinator for Life of Destruction, who wanted me to wire ten flame bars into the side paneling.” Wes laughed. “And I told him, yeah sure—”
“If you want it to be the next Beirut blast disaster.”
“Exactly!” Wes yelled, punching him in the shoulder. “What are these directors thinking?”
“It would’ve been catastrophic for sure, like when your vapor employment unit backfired because—”
“I over adjusted the ventilation,” Law finished, “otherwise it was flawless.”
“True,” Wes said, taking a long drink of his cream soda. “That rig you made is still a game-changer.”
Law blamed his blush on the cool weather.
He loved it when Wes complimented him. Everything they did was so competitive sometimes he forgot how much in awe he was of what they could invent.
Wes waited for him to unlock the door of his battered Explorer. He was hoping Wes would allow him to go back to his place to have a little fun since they hadn’t argued in the last two hours.
“Bro, your flame bar—”
A sudden screech of tires sliced through Law’s words.
Both of them jerked toward the noise in time to see a white van block a caravan of black SUVs. The door of the van flew open and a guy hurled two glass bottles toward the front vehicle.
The blast came so fast it sucked the air out of Law’s lungs.
A roaring flash of orange fire spread across the hood of the SUV like lava.
“Holy fuckin’ shit,” Wes whispered.
“Why is the flame so bright, Wes?”
Wes was staring transfixed as if he was mesmerized. “It has to be some sort of lithium cocktail.”
Pedestrians screamed and ducked for cover as gunfire erupted seconds later. The bullets tore through the air in short, frightening bursts, like a jackhammer pounding metal.
He and Wes had worked on enough action movie sets to recognize the sound of machine guns.
Wes grabbed his arm and pulled him behind the truck.
“Law! We gotta get the fuck outta here!” Wes yelled, eyes wide.
Law stayed rooted, staring at the blazing vehicle. The fire poured higher, the heat so intense it was visibly rippling off the hood.
“There are people in there,” Law rasped.
“Are you crazy?” Wes shouted. “This is Atlanta! This could be a cartel hit, man!”
“I don’t give a fuck who it is. They’re trapped!” Law hollered. “Look at that windshield! They’ll suffocate in there!”
Another burst of gunfire rang out.
Law’s pulse thundered in his head as adrenaline surged through him.
He spun on Wes, clutching his jacket. “I have high-density smoke bombs in my bag. Don’t you have some extinguishers?”
Wes cursed under his breath as he yanked open the back door and dragged their duffels onto the sidewalk before ripping them open.
Law snatched two black charge from his bag. “I’ll cover you and distract the shooters while you get the fire put out.”
“Cover me! Are you insane?” Wes snapped. “You’re not a fuckin’ stunt man. Those are real bullets, Law.”
Wes was refuting all while he took out his custom short-range flame bar and jammed a butane phosphate cylinder onto the handle.
Wes went in one direction as Law weaved between parked cars, ducking as bullets ricocheted off concrete and car bumpers.
Law waited for a break in the gunfire. When he saw his opening, he popped the cap on the canisters and tossed them as hard as he could into the van of shooters before diving behind a rusted MARTA bench.
It detonated midair, releasing a fast-spreading wall of black smoke that swallowed the van whole. He hurled the second one, that flooded the ground with a thick, creeping fog.
Curses and coughs erupted from inside the van as the shooters stumbled out, choking and disoriented from the fumes.
Officers in black tactical gear raced from behind their barricades, yelling orders.
“Drop your weapons! Down on the ground! On the ground, now!”
One of the gunmen seemed to hesitate, still holding his assault rifle as if he couldn’t decide whether to surrender or go out in a blaze of glory.
“No, no, no.”
Law didn’t want to see a guy gunned down in the street any more than he wanted to see anyone burned alive.
A dangerous gleam widened in the man’s eyes, before he made a detrimental mistake and raised the muzzle of his gun at the officer in front.
A bone-rattling crack split the air. The gunman jerked violently as a bright splash of red bloomed in the center of his chest before he crumpled to the asphalt.