Page 119 of Touch of Hate
Now is not the time for my dick to stiffen, but I can’t help it. She’s never turned me on the way she is now, ready to march into war at my side, no matter the fear.
River was wrong. Bringing her with me was the best choice I could’ve made. She gives me the strength I need, the focus, as I start off again.
If she can do this, so can I.
We’re still a long way off from dawn, but I flip the headlights off as soon as a slight flicker of light appears on the horizon.
The compound.
New Haven.
She’s in there. They all are.
I can’t risk anyone spotting our approach, which means taking it slow the last half mile before pulling off the road at what was once a gas station but is now the home to weeds and any number of small creatures who scamper away at our approach. I hold a finger to my lips, and she nods before we open our doors and close them as quietly as possible.
I can recite the codes Christian gave up before he died backward and forward while standing on my head. Studying never interested me much, but when the subject is one I feel a connection to? That is a different story.
There’s never been a more compelling subject.
Scarlet follows close behind me, her hand in mine.
I’d rather not speak, something she seems to understand. The silence—and the touch of her hand—allow me to train my focus on the compound and whether there’s any movement from the outer buildings. A wide swath of land has been fenced in with chain link and topped with barbed wire; only a third or so has been developed. I never understood that. If it is such a peaceful place. If you can come and go as you like, what is the point of barbed wire? It was never a place to keep you safe. It was to keep you inside. Trapped.
They have big plans.
What a shame those plans won’t come to fruition.
When we’re close enough for me to identify movement in the guardhouse, I squeeze her hand before coming to a stop.
My heart gallops in my chest as I drop into a crouch with her following suit, our legs brushing, only our mixed breathing breaking the silence.
It’s not much more than a trailer set on a cinder block foundation, giving the guards the advantage of extra height. I’m sure it’s nice for them to sit up high and feel like hot shit because they have guns and permission to use them.
I knew there’d be someone in there, but was it too much to ask for the building to be empty? For something to work in our favor and balance the odds a little? At least only one figure passes the window overlooking the sliding gate. It’s at least fifteen feet tall and accessible only by the keypad in the guardhouse or the keypad mounted alongside an intercom speaker.
If the keypad is smashed, shot, or otherwise damaged, it trips the alarm. Christian shared that piece of information with us in hopes that I would take it easy on him.
We’ll see if he truly helped. If the codes are any good.
If not?
Turning to her, I fish the keys to the Jeep from my back pocket and press them into her open palm. “In case I’m hurt. You do not hesitate. You run straight back to the car and get the fuck out of here. Understood?”
The keys jingle softly in her shaking hands, then she closes her fingers around them before jamming them into her pocket.
“Good girl.” As much as entertaining the notion of failure makes me grind my teeth in frustration, I need to cover my bases for her sake.
I nod a moment before we start out again, keeping close to the fence. So close to reaching the gate. I can hardly breathe or keep my thoughts straight with the prospect of everything finally coming together ricocheting through my awareness.
This is it.
No more planning, no more going through it in my head. I’ve performed this little invasion a hundred times.
This is only the hundred and first. No big deal, right?
As much as I hate doing it, I release Scarlet’s hand before crawling the rest of the way now that we’re only feet from the window overlooking the gate.
When my foot slips on a stone and sends it skittering against the chain link, I freeze solid, my heart in my throat.