Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 136048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Two more of the assailants go down, leaving only two to go, and as my team closes in—half of us focusing on the gunmen, the other half leading the hostages away from danger—one of the gunmen drops to the ground, his gun aimed directly at Diesel.
A breath catches in my throat, a moment of sheer panic pounding through my veins, but this ain’t Diesel’s first rodeo, and just as the bullet flies from the chamber, Diesel whips out of the way, narrowly avoiding a direct hit to the chest.
Blood spurts from his arm as the bullet rips through his uniform and continues behind him, and in true Diesel form, he gets on with what he’s doing as though nothing happened, returning fire and taking the fucker out.
My bullet is last to fly, taking down the final gunman and putting this shit to bed, and while I could have easily taken the kill shot, giving this asshole an easy way out seems like too much of a kindness. He can die in prison for the bullshit he’s put all these people through these past twelve hours.
Ace runs in and slams his boot over the final gunman’s wrist, quickly disarming him before kicking the weapon away, putting an end to it as everyone races in to do their part. The barricades are freed from the doors, allowing the paramedics access as the rest of the cops swarm the area, hurrying to the hostages to offer any help they can, but my attention is on Diesel.
“You good?” I ask, gripping his arm and tearing his uniform away to get a look at the damage, knowing damn well he would have just walked straight out of here without even bothering to get it checked.
“Fine,” he mutters, allowing me only a second to lay my eyes on the wound before pulling free of my grasp.
I let out a sigh and wave over one of the paramedics. “He needs stitches. Don’t let him leave before he’s been checked out.”
Diesel scoffs and strides toward the door. We don’t technically need to hang around here right now. Don’t get me wrong, we’ll be on scene for the next few hours, cleaning up our equipment and documenting every bullet fired from our guns before making detailed statements. People died here, and the department will want to ensure that every t is crossed and every i is dotted. There’s no room for mistakes, and they will go above and beyond to ensure that every move we made was aboveboard. And it was. My team is just that good.
The paramedic sighs, watching Diesel walk away, and all I can do is smirk. It’s not the first time the paramedics have had to deal with the stubborn-natured men on my team, and it sure as fuck won’t be the last. But out of all of them, Diesel is the hardest to deal with by far.
“Fuck me,” the paramedic mutters under his breath. “I’d have had a better chance at survival if I’d performed the Macarena in my birthday suit during the middle of your shootout than to tell that asshole he needs to be looked at.”
“That’s just the perks of the job,” I tell him, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re on your own, though. Good luck.”
I laugh to myself as I turn around and take in the destroyed building around me before letting out a heavy breath. Everywhere I look, there are bullet holes, shattered glass, bodies, blood, and hostages. It’s a fucking mess, but it’s my mess, and now it’s time to clean it up.
It’s almost ten in the morning by the time I’m walking through my front door, and while I was only out for a few hours, I’m fucking wrecked. I lock up behind me before dumping my shit on the hallway table and kicking off my boots.
The house is quiet, but I don’t expect anything different. Harper is bound to be asleep after working the night shift, and considering it’s her first shift back after her attack, I’m sure every ounce of her energy was depleted.
Padding down the hallway, I try to be as quiet as possible, not wanting to wake her, and when I stride into the doorway of our bedroom, I pause, finding her curled into a ball in the center of the bed. The bed is huge, and when we’re both in it, I never notice just how big it is, but when it’s just Harper curled up like that, it’s almost comical. She’s so tiny. It’s fucking precious.
As I take her in, a small smile lifts the corners of my lips, and despite the death I’ve just witnessed and caused, I feel more at peace than I ever have. There’s just something about Harper that settles me. She’s the other half of my soul, and if I were to lose her, I don’t think I’d ever be the same.