Page 112
Story: Mine to Protect
Each group of men fanned out, guns at the ready. The person we were after was conniving, manipulative, and smart as hell; we had to be on our guard at all times.
How in the hell we missed the glaring signs that Sarah was a psychopath was beyond me. But everything Peters sent over—from her juvie file to her most recent crime, which landed her in a mental ward for four years—confirmed the woman was mentally unstable.
I couldn’t make eye contact with the two dogs brought in to help us find Alta. Just seeing them had sadness gripping my heart. Benny was doing better, but who knew when that might change.
While the other officers fanned out, I geared up with the basic firearms I’d tossed in the back of the SUV before leaving the cabin. The grenades might’ve been a bit much, but I would rather have them and not need them than the alternative. After strapping on the assault rifle and checking the sights of the scope, I slammed the trunk closed.
“What else you got in there?” came a familiar voice at my back.
“Plenty. What’s your poison?” I said to Peters with as much of a smile as I could muster in this type of situation.
The trunk light flickered back on as the lid rose in the air. While he rummaged through the arsenal, I checked every clip, making sure all five guns on my body were loaded to the max.
“Is that a grenade?” Peters asked as he slung a rifle over his back.
I shrugged and slammed the magazine back in place. “I like being prepared.”
“You look like you’re going to war.”
Through the headlights of the other trucks and SUVs, I met his gaze. “I am.”
His simple nod said everything.
“Ready?” I asked.
“Ready.”
Side by side, we stalked deeper into the trees, the crunch of the leaves and twigs beneath our boots the only sound. With each step I slipped deeper and deeper into the marine I used to be. The stalker, the killer. The protector. I would find her. I would save her. That was the fact I had to zero in on, because the alternative would render me paralyzed and utterly useless in the search for her.
Alta would survive, as would I. Together we would live the rest of our lives, broken but not shattered, hurt but not dead. Together we were whole, which was why I had to find her. I’d never be the man she thought I was without her by my side.
She had to survive.
Or I wouldn’t.
A sixth sense pulled me short, making Peters pause midstep. I held a tight breath, listening through the dark stillness.
“You hear that?” I said just above a whisper. “There.” With the assault rifle in my grasp, I pointed southeast toward the barely audible voices.
“Could be the other officers.”
“Could not be. Let’s go.”
At a quick pace, we raced through the dark, leaping over toppled trees, knocking down young saplings and stomping over the dense underbrush. Nothing could stand in our way of investigating the voices, which grew louder with each step we took.
Sweat beaded beneath my wool cap and dripped down my temples, even with the cold night air brushing past my cheeks and cooling my exposed hands.
A flash of movement dropped us to the forest floor for cover, the cool, damp ground quickly absorbing all the building heat. At my side, Peters pushed up to his elbows scouting the situation.
“Flashlight. Two unknowns.” Falling back to the earth, he slid the shoulder strap off and positioned the rifle in front of him. “What do you want to do?”
I held in a tight breath. What I wanted to do and what we should do were two different scenarios. I was a planner, needed all facts before making a move, but in this case, nothing mattered but getting closer to her. This was acting on emotion, which would get me killed, but what was the alternative?
“Let’s—”
Sarah’s singsong voice several yards away cut me short. “Now, Birdie, this is where I say goodbye and good riddance.”
Every muscle tensed to propel me toward the voices. A firm grip on my shoulder forced me back down.
How in the hell we missed the glaring signs that Sarah was a psychopath was beyond me. But everything Peters sent over—from her juvie file to her most recent crime, which landed her in a mental ward for four years—confirmed the woman was mentally unstable.
I couldn’t make eye contact with the two dogs brought in to help us find Alta. Just seeing them had sadness gripping my heart. Benny was doing better, but who knew when that might change.
While the other officers fanned out, I geared up with the basic firearms I’d tossed in the back of the SUV before leaving the cabin. The grenades might’ve been a bit much, but I would rather have them and not need them than the alternative. After strapping on the assault rifle and checking the sights of the scope, I slammed the trunk closed.
“What else you got in there?” came a familiar voice at my back.
“Plenty. What’s your poison?” I said to Peters with as much of a smile as I could muster in this type of situation.
The trunk light flickered back on as the lid rose in the air. While he rummaged through the arsenal, I checked every clip, making sure all five guns on my body were loaded to the max.
“Is that a grenade?” Peters asked as he slung a rifle over his back.
I shrugged and slammed the magazine back in place. “I like being prepared.”
“You look like you’re going to war.”
Through the headlights of the other trucks and SUVs, I met his gaze. “I am.”
His simple nod said everything.
“Ready?” I asked.
“Ready.”
Side by side, we stalked deeper into the trees, the crunch of the leaves and twigs beneath our boots the only sound. With each step I slipped deeper and deeper into the marine I used to be. The stalker, the killer. The protector. I would find her. I would save her. That was the fact I had to zero in on, because the alternative would render me paralyzed and utterly useless in the search for her.
Alta would survive, as would I. Together we would live the rest of our lives, broken but not shattered, hurt but not dead. Together we were whole, which was why I had to find her. I’d never be the man she thought I was without her by my side.
She had to survive.
Or I wouldn’t.
A sixth sense pulled me short, making Peters pause midstep. I held a tight breath, listening through the dark stillness.
“You hear that?” I said just above a whisper. “There.” With the assault rifle in my grasp, I pointed southeast toward the barely audible voices.
“Could be the other officers.”
“Could not be. Let’s go.”
At a quick pace, we raced through the dark, leaping over toppled trees, knocking down young saplings and stomping over the dense underbrush. Nothing could stand in our way of investigating the voices, which grew louder with each step we took.
Sweat beaded beneath my wool cap and dripped down my temples, even with the cold night air brushing past my cheeks and cooling my exposed hands.
A flash of movement dropped us to the forest floor for cover, the cool, damp ground quickly absorbing all the building heat. At my side, Peters pushed up to his elbows scouting the situation.
“Flashlight. Two unknowns.” Falling back to the earth, he slid the shoulder strap off and positioned the rifle in front of him. “What do you want to do?”
I held in a tight breath. What I wanted to do and what we should do were two different scenarios. I was a planner, needed all facts before making a move, but in this case, nothing mattered but getting closer to her. This was acting on emotion, which would get me killed, but what was the alternative?
“Let’s—”
Sarah’s singsong voice several yards away cut me short. “Now, Birdie, this is where I say goodbye and good riddance.”
Every muscle tensed to propel me toward the voices. A firm grip on my shoulder forced me back down.
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