12: Bolt Saga, Book 12 by Angel Payne

Author:Angel Payne
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781642630411
Publisher: Waterhouse Press

“It’s quiet.”

Though Alex issues the observation in an equally subdued tone, his voice is loud, clear, and completely understandable through the radio comm in my ear—probably because what he’s saying is true.

Freakishly true.

“Yeah,” Foley returns, his hands tense on the Range Rover’s steering wheel as we roll past the Lunada Pointe mansion for the third time. “Too fucking quiet.”

I turn my head toward the mansion, which is just as sprawling as the others on this exclusive strip of oceanfront real estate, with its lush landscaping and Italianate architectural lines. But it’s almost nine o’clock, and the rest of the homes have at least exterior lights on by now. The mansion in front of us is a collection of darkness and shadows, despite the fact that the air around it pulses with the energy one can only experience from another human being. That’s not my magical Bolt-ometer talking, either. That’s common sense, honed after tracking more than my fair share of bad guys in too many “quiet” Los Angeles alleys—and it’s confirmed by Foley’s driving too. He feels it too. He knows it too.

“You picking up anything on the infrared, Trestle?”

“Nada,” Alex answers. “Not even a goddamned lizard in the bushes.”

His reply contains a dial-back on the stealthy and a boost on the fury. He and Fershan closed in on my level of freaked—but not surprised—upon realizing their teammate had insta-volunteered for mission duty with Emmalina and Angie and then pushed themselves into overdrive so Foley and I could have as many high-tech gadgets as possible once we rolled. Watching their frenzy was racking but reassuring. Nothing conveys stress faster or more wildly than a tech team scramble, but the fact that it was a scramble had been the right encouragement at the right moment. I’m not the only one who’s ready to put everything on the line to bring the three of them home.

“Roger that,” I mutter back over the comm. “Not a creature is stirring, not even a lizard.”

“Under normal circumstances, that might even be a good thing.”

Brief snort. “Should I be the first to point out the obvious here?”

Fersh is our resident optimist, not usually the one growling.

“Fuck.” It tumbles out of Foley with so much grit, I glance over and expect him to be foaming at the mouth.

“You guys have to go in.” The decree belongs to Lydia, her scythe of a tone clarifying that the dictate isn’t open for discussion. Fine by me. There’s no time for a debate right now. Not a goddamned second to waste in pursuing our singular goal.

Finding Emma.

Then kissing the oxygen out of every cell in her body.

Christ in heaven. Why did I fall in love with a woman who even thinks it’s okay to do shit like this, anyway? Who, after the first time I told her my secret identity was Bolt, tackled me, kissed me, and then called me the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen? Who hasn’t once whined that my “extracurricular fun” is training ninja murder techniques

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