Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 125248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“I also brought my laptop, tablet, and a portable server with enough cable to wrap around the lot.” Free chuckled. “I look like I do computer shit, so they let me in too.”
“We should audition for a part,” Ruxs muttered. “We’re some damn good actors.”
A few minutes later Free added calmly, “Mainframe acquired. I’m inside everything.”
“What’s ‘everything’?” God asked.
“The gates, internal phones, security cameras, lighting systems, communication channels.” He paused. “Honestly this place is offensively vulnerable.”
Ruxs whistled low.
Day spoke up. “Get ready, we’re entering.”
Green moved farther along the soundstage perimeter and watched.
God, Day, and Steele approached the gate openly, wearing dark suits over T-shirts and jeans with fake federal badges clipped onto their belts.
The guards waved them through before they’d even finished speaking. One of the idiots even pointed them toward the security office without assigning them an escort.
Steele stole a walkie-talkie on the way past, and nobody noticed.
“All teams in position,” God said quietly.
Green looked toward Ruxs across the lot.
Ruxs grinned before he fired two rounds in the air—aiming so the bullet would fall onto the roof—holstered his weapon and pulled the fire alarm.
The shriek exploded through the soundstage, blaring about ten seconds before crew members, actors, and personnel scattered like birds.
A commanding voice barked over the security’s radios.
“Delta and Charlie teams hold your positions! Alpha move to combat response!”
Green stayed still beside a stack of equipment crates and watched as absolute chaos unfolded.
Security scrambled everywhere. One of the motherfucking guards actually ran with the crowd, another shouted into a dead cellphone while spinning in circles, and a third nearly collided with a catering cart.
Nobody established perimeter control, secured exits, or attempted to identify threats.
“Jesus Christ,” Steele muttered through comms.
“Charlie team hold your motherfuckin’ line!” the unseen commander barked again.
Nobody listened.
Free killed the cell towers.
Green’s eyes landed on a young woman sprinting past in full-on panic.
“Blue jacket,” Tech blurted. “Grab her.”
Green moved fast.
One second, she was running. The next, his arm was locked around her waist while he pressed his Smith & Wesson to her temple in a perfect hostage hold.
The woman screamed as nearby crew members lost their minds.
“Oh my god!”
“Let her go!”
“Someone help her!”
The studio workers were reacting more forcefully than security.
Several guards continued to try to get through on their dead phones while others yelled conflicting orders at each other near the locked gates.
“Cut the lights,” God ordered.
The lights flickered violently before going dark beneath the now overcast sky.
Screams erupted louder, wilder and frantic, until Free cut the alarm and the silence that followed felt more dramatic than the noise.
Green remained calm, gun against his hostage’s shoulder while she sobbed, clutching his forearm across her chest.
He never said a word.
Too many minutes dragged by.
Finally, there was movement from above—snipers.
About damn time.
Green glanced upward before his attention shifted back in front of him.
A man was approaching slowly. He was big, serious, measured…and exuded danger.
Cassidy Morrison.
Even from a distance Green could spot the Marine in him.
Broad shoulders, ripped forearms, and a strong chest, beneath a black jacket concealing a double loaded holster.
His steady walk, and air of confidence reflected his fearlessness. His dark hair was shorn on the sides and longer on top, brushed back from a face carved hard by discipline.
He narrowed his dark eyes…assessing. And unlike everyone else scrambling around him, Morrison was completely calm.
Interesting.
Green noticed him clock Ruxs first. Then Steele leaning against a nearby wall smoking a Swisher Sweet as if none of what was going on concerned him.
Then Morrison’s gaze landed back on him.
“You must be the men from Atlanta,” he rumbled.
His voice sounded deep enough to vibrate the concrete.
Morrison lifted his radio to his mouth and gritted. “All teams stand down.”
Day emerged from an actor’s trailer nearby, and God stepped out of another trailer marked…
XANDER VALE
Morrison’s expression changed for the first time.
Subtle, but there.
His jaw tightened as his intense glare blazed on the cowardly security guards making their way back towards him.
Green released his hostage.
The woman turned and beamed at him.
“Well?” she asked. “How’d I do?”
“Perfect,” Green answered, tucking away the unloaded Smith & Wesson. He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it politely. “You should be promoted from an extra to a more prominent role.”
“Make sure you tell casting that,” she urged, smiling.
Tech and Free approached alongside Wes and Law.
Law spread his arms. “See HOS? Didn’t I tell you these motherfuckers were the shit?”
Wes smirked at Morrison and started pointing them out.
“Meet your new security consultants. That’s Detectives Ruxsberg and Green, the task force’s enforcers. Over there smoking is Detective Steele, just an all-around badass, ex-Marine Force Recon lieutenant. Beside me is Detective Murphy, aka Tech, and this is Free, who’s a goddamn computer genius.” Wes frowned as if thinking, before he shrugged. “Uh, yeah, he’s just called, Free.”
Lastly Day and God stepped forward, looking like renegades.
“Meet the men in charge. That’s Lieutenant Day.” Law’s grin widened almost proudly. “And this, is the man known on the streets of Atlanta as God.”