“We didn’t have time.”
“The fuck we didn’t! No one made you mission commander, Bryant, and you don’t have the first fucking clue what shots I can make.”
“Stop whining and fire back at these assholes. That’s the only way we’re getting out of here alive.”
Zy whipped his stare around. In between the clouds of dust their race through the desert had kicked up, he saw something that made his blood run cold. “They’ve got a mounted fifty-cal!”
“Motherfucking son of a bitch,” Walker cursed as he jerked out his Glock. “Don’t ever stop my shot again. And if I die, I’m going to haunt your ass.”
There was no way anyone was hitting the enemy vehicle with that weapon at that distance. “Are you out of your mind?”
Walker glared at him like a bug to be squashed. “You got a better idea, new guy?”
Zy didn’t, and that sucked, so he closed his mouth, drew his own weapon, and sent up a prayer.
The sun inched up the horizon, and Cutter wisely drove east, straight into the blinding light, fishtailing the back tires to kick up as much dust as possible. They had no other way to obscure their position.
If they got out of this alive, it would be a fucking miracle.
Then came the sound he goddamn dreaded—another bang, followed by another high-pitched howl. Then a flash, followed by a deafening sound as the explosive landed inches from the back right tire, where Zy sat. Then fire ripped into his shoulder and across his back seconds before something bashed in the side of his skull.
Pain exploded. Darkness tunneled his vision. As he fell back, his unsteady gaze landed on Trees, whose eyes widened with horror. He seemed to be shouting, but Zy heard nothing. His panicked friend grabbed him, moved him. All Zy knew was that he suddenly had something solid at his back, something warm trickled down the side of his face, and he’d probably fucking die a failure.
Then…nothing.
March 16
Tessa Lawrence sighed as the doorbell rang. She set down the spoon she’d been using to stir her potatoes and kissed her infant daughter, cradled in one arm, as she lowered the heat on the burner. “Hopefully that’s your diaper delivery, sweet pea. You’re running low.”
Hallie slept on, blissfully unaware that being down to a handful of Pampers was something close to an emergency—at least as far as a new single mom was concerned. But it wasn’t the end of the world. Would she have liked to have an extra set of hands to hold Hallie while she cooked? To keep the baby calm while she took a few precious moments for a shower? When her daughter woke up for the third time between midnight and four a.m.? Of course.
But Cash Bennett apparently had better things to do than be a dad to the baby girl he’d unexpectedly fathered on one of their handful of dates last May.
No time to wallow now. Grab the diapers, stir the potatoes, make it through another day. Tomorrow will be better.
At least that’s what Tessa told herself.
As she neared the front door, she peeked out the peephole. No one. The delivery driver must have dumped the box on the porch and left. And honestly that suited Tessa anyway. She’d probably scare everyone but the blind right now. She was still wearing yesterday’s leggings. Her hair was piled on her head in a messy bun. The dark circles under her eyes attested to her lack of sleep. And since Hallie was a few minutes past due for her feeding, her breasts were leaking milk, which must be obvious on her blue shirt.
Letting out a sigh of relief, she opened the door and looked down for the box she so desperately needed. But it wasn’t there. Instead, a familiar man peeled away from the wall beside her front door with a groan and wobbled onto the mat as he faced her.
“Hey, babe.” He looked her up and down, then gave her a glassy-eyed frown. “You look like shit.”
This was just one of the many reasons she’d stopped seeing Cash. She’d mistaken him for someone attractive, kind, and marriable for their first couple of months together. As soon as he’d proven unreliable and irresponsible, she’d dumped his ass. Unfortunately, she’d realized she was pregnant after that.
“What do you want, Cash?”
“Shouldn’t I get to meet my daughter?”
“I gave you chances, and you didn’t take me up on any of them. I don’t want you here when you’re drunk.”
“Drunk? I’ve had a couple but…I’m not drunk.”
“Your words are slurred and you smell like a distillery. You’re drunk. You should go.”
“What? No. I haven’t seen my daughter yet.” He directed his unsteady stare at Hallie. “Is this her?”
How many babies did the idiot think she was capable of having at once? “Yes.”
Something on his face softened. “Can I come in and hold her?”