“Is this Erik Boucher?” I asked, reaching for the bulletproof vest. It wasn’t rated for anything beyond handguns, but it was better than nothing. My heavier vest was still in my locker at Strike.
“It is,” he replied slowly.
“My name is Rosemary Whitlock.” I pulled on my hoodie.
He didn’t say anything.
“Uh…I’m your son Daniel’s mate.”
“Is Danny okay?”
“As far as I know,” I replied, shaking my head. “Look, he gave me your number and told me to call if I ever needed to.” Pulling on my tactical vest, I zipped it up the front, making sure that all the pouches were where I’d left them and in easy reach.
“What can I do for you?” The words were immediate.
“Well, Danny is, uh…unavailable at the moment, and I’m in a bit of a pickle.”
“Tell me what you need.”
It took less than a minute to explain the situation, and then I was on the move.
The pockets on my vest were full, and I’d already chosen my weapons when Pop came striding back down the hallway, his shoulders straight and his expression a mirror of my own.
“Do you think we’ll need explosives?” I asked, bouncing on the balls of my feet to make sure everything would stay where I put it.
“You want to explain to Dalton why we blew his property up?” he asked, his hands finding and choosing ammunition by rote.
“I’m bringing some anyway,” I replied. “I’ll meet you at the truck.”
I ran to the lean-to against the back of the barn and undid the combination lock while simultaneously trying to ignore the new way my body responded to my commands. I felt awkward and uncoordinated, my muscles straining to do things they’d done automatically before. I’d been so sick that I hadn’t even tried to work out after that morning with the tire, and now I was paying for it.
It didn’t help that running made the tightness in my chest feel like a balloon that had reached capacity and was about to pop from the pressure.
I stuffed a couple of small blocks of C-4 and a handful of blasting caps in my trouser pockets, just in case we needed them.
I locked up and ran toward the headlights shining through the side yard. Pop was already inside, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel as he waited for me. Thunder sat in the center of the bench seat, his tongue lolling halfway out of his mouth.
“Go,” I ordered as I threw myself inside.
Pop spun in a wide circle and raced back down the road while I pulled the rifle strap off my neck and set it next to the one I was holding at my feet.
“How are we doing this?” I asked, reaching up to pull my hair into a tightly woven braid.
“I’ll park at the end of the road, and we’ll make our way on foot.”
“Pop, how are you going to do that?” I asked reasonably.
I wasn’t even sure how he was carrying all the supplies he had. Walking a quarter of a mile up Uncle Dalton’s driveway was going to fuck him up big time.
“You got any other ideas?” he asked, barely glancing at me. “You wanna pull up to the door, Rosemary? Knock and see if they’ll let us in?”
“Don’t fucking snap at me.”
“Stop asking stupid questions.” He grimaced. “I’ll do what needs to be done.”
Fuck, I really wished my mate was with us. I tried to regulate my breathing as we raced toward Uncle Dalton and Aunt Halle’s property, but nothing seemed to be working. The heat was seriously fucking with my focus. My mouth watered and my throat spasmed as I tried to convince my body not to vomit.
I’d seen Daniel in action. If I’d had him at my back, I would’ve felt a lot better about what we were walking into. I wanted him close enough to touch. Just the sight of him would’ve made the fear that clung to me loosen its grip.
