Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Standing close, he opens the case and shows me the weapon, a nine-millimeter pistol, he says. He details the parts, explains how it operates, then talks about how the gun should be used safely. He shows me that it isn’t loaded, then says, “Before you touch anything, I need you in a stable position.”
I nod, even though my pulse has picked up, not from fear, but awareness of him.
“Plant your feet, and get your balance. You need to know how to center yourself.”
I do as instructed, shifting my weight until he’s satisfied with my stance. He checks the weapon one more time, then sets it in my gloved hands.
“It’s heavier than I thought it would be,” I tell him.
“Feel the weight. That’s the point.”
My fingers tighten, and of course, he notices.
“Easy. I’ve got you.” His tone is professional, but the words hit differently with him standing so close.
“I’m going to adjust your grip,” he says. “Okay?”
The crisp, clean scent of the man, mingled with earthy notes from his leather gear, occupies my senses even more than the cold metal in my hands, especially when Viper steps behind me. He’s solid at my back as his hands reach around to cover mine. He moves my fingers into place without hesitation, the heat of his body seeping into mine, even through all our clothing.
“Finger goes here.” He taps a spot on the side of the pistol. “Always.” After he adjusts my wrists, he reassesses, then says, “You’re balanced. Keep it that way.”
As if that’s easy. As if I can focus while he’s standing so close.
The longer his hands stay around mine, the harder it is to remain unaffected. When he steps away, cold air rushes in to fill the spot where his body heat had been.
“Did you have a lot of experience with guns before you joined the Marines?” I ask, mostly to distract myself.
“Not much.” He takes the weapon out of my hands, giving me a break.
“What made you enlist?”
He lets out a short breath and looks uncomfortable being questioned, if I’m reading him right, but it’s impossible to tell.
“Quickest way out,” he says.
“Out of …?”
Viper stares off into the distance. “My home wasn’t a place you stayed unless you had to. The Marines were … simpler.”
It’s not a word I’d apply to military service. “Simpler? Surely not easy,” I say, mostly thinking out loud.
“Simpler because in the Corps, I knew what I was dealing with.”
There’s no bitterness in his voice, but I can connect the dots and imagine him growing up in some sort of difficult situation. I’d like to know more, but I don’t want to push my luck today.
“I’m glad you got away,” is all I say instead.
He looks at me again, unreadable as always, and simply says, “Me too.”
The wind shifts, and Viper asks if I’m up for more. When I tell him I am, he takes me through the motions again.
Once he’s satisfied, he locks the weapon away and steps back, putting distance between us.
“You did fine,” he says, which I take as high praise from this man of so few words.
CHAPTER 20
ATLAS
A cold cup of coffee sits on the desk. My eyes are fixed on the screen, but my brain’s gone AWOL.
The ever-present electronic hum that fills ops presses in on all sides of me as my thumb worries the edge of my wedding band, turning it until the metal warms against my skin.
Twist. Stop. Twist.
Some nights I don’t realize I’m doing it until the ring snags on a callus and sends a sting up my finger.
I turn it anyway.
Sarah’s laugh lives in the grooves of the band. So does the moment she put it on my finger and we vowed to love each other ‘til death parted us. Turns out love lasts far longer than that.
So does pain.
It’s late. Grizz already retired to his room, and Viper went out to check the outer fence. Kira’s probably directly above me, sitting by the fire, crocheting.
I shouldn’t be thinking about Kira.
Which means I can’t stop.
It started as a simple, solvable task. A woman appears, half-dead in a snowstorm, pregnant and running from danger. I made the same call any of us would have. We brought her here to keep her safe while we assessed the threat.
We offered her comfort, but she opted for truth. She asked for information and fearlessly turned her face toward danger.
Her reaction caught me off guard, and I’m still reeling.
“Andrew.”
The word is so soft, I’m sure it’s in my head. Something out of my memories.
Then I hear it again, louder. Kira’s hovering in the doorway, arms wrapped around her middle. She’s cold. Or hesitant.
I clear my throat and wish I could clear my head as easily. “Everything okay?”
“It’s getting late. Would you like me to bring down a cup of cider for you?”