Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 131387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Hutch opened my front door, pulled me out, Hannibal crowding me at my side.
We ran to his truck, which was right at the porch steps. He hauled open the door and I watched, dazed, as Hannibal shifted, hind to the truck, to look out into the dark, ears alert, head swinging this way and that.
One armed, Hutch hauled me up and in, dropped Moxie in my lap then slammed the door.
I clutched my cat to my chest.
He opened the back door and grunted, “Hup.”
Tonks jumped in.
Hannibal jumped in.
He rounded the grille, shoved his rifle butt in the area beside my seat, angled in, slammed his door, started the truck and peeled out.
I was squeezing Moxie at my chest, so I forced myself to loosen my hold.
“Harry—”
“I called him on my way to you. He’s on his way.”
“I think Lillian is pregnant.”
Pause, then, “Don’t think about that now.”
She was pregnant.
Oh God!
“What if they have a stockpile of firearms?”
“Don’t think about it, May. Breathe, in, out. Hear me? Breathe, baby.”
I breathed.
It wasn’t working.
I tried again.
It still wasn’t working.
“Baby,” he whispered, “Breathe for me.”
I tried again.
And I breathed.
I kept doing it as we made his house.
We dashed in as we’d dashed out of mine, with Hutch pointing at the locked front door and grunting, “Guard!” to Hannibal, who stood at attention, staring at it.
Hutch guided me to a chair. “Sit.”
I didn’t sit. He pressed me into the chair.
He walked out of the room, the rifle back over his shoulder, and I sat cuddling my cat, Tonks sitting beside me. I was still totally freaking, but at least I was breathing.
I could see, technically.
But in my mind’s eye, all I could see was her reaching out to me.
Hutch came back with a glass of something liquid and brown.
He handed it to me. “Drink.”
“I don’t drink bourbon.”
“Baby, sip it. For me.”
I sipped.
Okay, smooth. Good bourbon. Still kinda yuck.
God help me.
I looked up at him. “Hutch—”
“I need you calm right now, May. Okay?”
His rifle wasn’t over his shoulder anymore.
It was in his hands.
Oh God!
“You think they might come here?” I screeched.
“I think, if they do, I’m gonna be ready. Can you calm for me?”
I nodded.
For the next chunk of what felt like forever, Hutch went from window to window peering out behind curtains with his rifle at the ready.
And I sipped bourbon, pretending I was calm.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Upstanding Christian Men
Hutch
After Hutch eventually got a call from Raul to bring Mabel down to give a statement, they swung by her place so she could change her socks and get her boots and coat.
She’d fled her own fucking home in her stocking feet.
Hutch couldn’t think on that, or he’d tear Harry’s office apart.
And for the last two hours, they’d been sitting in that office, waiting while what sounded like Fret County Sheriff’s Department was having a very busy Saturday night down the hall.
They’d gone through two cups of coffee that Polly brought them.
And Hutch was beyond pissed, he knew unreasonably.
But he had friends up there.
Lillian was pregnant.
Rus had two blood children and Cin’s daughter who thought the world of him.
He wanted to know what the fuck was going on.
When they were at her place, and when they were driving by, you could see the red and blue lights of a fuck ton of cop cars lighting up the night sky over that compound.
But once they were in the station and settled, they hadn’t heard dick except Polly apologizing someone hadn’t seen to them yet and the commotion outside the door.
It was after midnight.
He had to get his woman some sleep.
So, first, he wanted to know the status of his friends.
Second, he had to know if it was safe to go home, or if he was taking her to the Pinetop, going back to get his pups and their animals and joining her there.
This was his thought when the door opened, and Sean stuck his torso in.
“Hutch, can you come with me, please?”
Before Hutch could make any demands, Sean looked to Mabel, his face gentled, and he said, “Polly’s going to bring you more coffee, and when I get done taking Hutch to Harry, I’ll be back to take your statement. We’ll bring Hutch right back when he’s done with Harry.”
Thank fuck.
Harry was okay.
“Okay,” she said to Sean.
Hutch assessed her.
She was a lot better. Breathing. Not shaking. No more screeches. And visibly relieved as well that Harry was okay.
“Good, babe?” he asked to be certain.
She nodded. “Go, honey.”
He returned her nod and followed Sean.
When he hit the bullpen, he saw Fret County deputies, law enforcement from other towns, a man and a woman in FBI windbreakers, four men in DEA ones, the conference rooms had their blinds firmly closed, and everyone was hustling.
Sean led him to a back room Hutch had never been to, knocked, called, and then let him in.
Harry was in there, so was Rus—thank fuck again—and they were accompanied by another DEA agent.