This last part was completely up to him.
And he loved me. The idea of that flowed through my body, giving me some of his strength. He loved, and I loved him too. That was the truth, always had been, from the second I saw him back at my door.
He’d come back to me. He was Emory Rush, SEAL captain.
He’d make things right and come back for me.
30
Emory
As Travis tore fast through the back streets, angling toward the power plant, I held the phone up to my ear.
“Blackfire,” he said.
“Sir, it’s Emory. We have reason to believe that The Network is attacking the power plant tonight.”
“Shit,” he said.
“Any ETA on that backup?”
“Your team is en route now, about three hours out. I have a gear specialist in the area.”
“Send him to us. Have him meet us on Highway Thirty, right next to exit twelve.”
“Got it,” he said.
“We can’t wait for the backup, sir. We’re going in.”
“Roger that, soldier. Good fucking luck to you both.”
“Thanks, sir.”
“Give them fucking hell.”
I hung the phone up and looked at Travis. “Hear that?”
“Exit twelve, got it. What’s there?”
“Weapons guy. We’ll gear up quick and then hit the plant.”
“Got it.” He paused. “Really think they’re hitting it tonight? They could have just left that spot.”
“It’s tonight,” I said. “I’m sure of it. My gut is screaming about it.”
“I know I always trust your gut.”
I grinned. “Never been wrong.”
We drove on, moving fast. Every second we wasted was a second closer Omar Hooth got to blowing up a nuclear power plant, and I couldn’t let that happen.
My mind drifted back to Tara as Travis passed exit six. I couldn’t stop thinking about the look on her face, the serious and intense worry. When I told her that I loved her, I wasn’t saying it to hear her say it back. I was saying it because I needed her to understand that I was coming back no matter what.
I loved her, and I wanted to be with her. I wanted to raise Mason, to hold him, to teach him how to be a man. I wasn’t running away from my responsibilities, wasn’t turning my back on my own son. Over the last few days I’d seen again and again how strong Tara was, and I’d realized how much she meant to me.
She was incredible. Her body, her lips, the way she fucked and sucked me. But more than that, I was amazed by the way she took care of Mason, by the way she tried to take care of everyone around her. She so easily could have gone running and never looked back, but instead she stuck through this.
I wanted that in my life. No, I fucking needed it. Every time I held Mason, I knew I was falling in love with him and his mother. Every time I looked at him, I knew I wanted to make sure he was taken care of, that I was always there for him and Tara.
I told her that I loved her because she had to know that I was coming home no matter what. I was coming home to her.
I knew what she was going to say back to me, but I didn’t want to hear it, because I wanted something to keep me going, something for me to look forward to. And fuck if I wasn’t looking forward to hearing her whisper in my ear how much she loved me as I fucked her tight cunt again and again.
Travis pulled the car off the road just before exit twelve. We moved back toward the tree line and killed the engine, waiting. About five minutes later, a second car pulled up behind us, this one a big black passenger van.
We stepped out of the car and walked toward it. The van doors opened and a short man, maybe five foot four at most, stepped out. He was round in the middle and balding, probably in his mid-sixties.
“They call me the Gun,” he said.
“Well, Mister Gun, I’m Emory.”
“Come on,” he grunted, and he led Travis and me to the back of his van. He threw the doors open and gestured inside. “Take what you want.”
I felt like a kid at a fucking candy store. The whole van was full of tactical equipment: rifles, pistols, silencers, grenades, vests, even a bazooka. It was the wildest arsenal I’d ever seen in my life, all packed into the back of this van.
Travis quickly selected a high-powered silencer sniper rifle. I picked out a smaller submachine gun with a silencer, an extra pistol, two hand radios for communication, and a belt of stun grenades.
“Fine choices,” Gun said as we stepped back out of the van.
“Thanks, Gun,” Travis said.
“Anything for America.”
We turned to leave, but Gun quickly ran in front of us.
“Hold on, hold on. One last treat. Here you go.” He held out a folded up map.
I took it. “This is?”
“The power plant. Blueprints. Heard you were going there, so I snatched these for you.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Snatched?”
“Stole, whatever. Want them or not?”
I grinned at him. “Thanks.”
He nodded, turned, got back into his van, and then drove off.
“What a weird guy,” Travis said as we got back into the car.
“Contractors,” I mumbled. “We’re always outsourcing to contractors these days.”
Travis laughed as he pulled back into traffic and we drove off to battle.
We left the car in an outcropping of trees about a half mile away from the power plant. We set off at a jog, heading closer and closer to the fencing line that surrounded the plant.
The night was clear and cool as we moved. Even weighed down with guns and gear, we still were moving at a pretty brisk pace. I guessed Omar couldn’t move as quickly as we could, since he was dragging along Tara’s parents and whoever else he had in his group.
That was the only advantage we had. They were stronger in numbers, though we were stronger in training. I had to hope that was going to be enough.
Soon we made it to the perimeter fence. It was tall and topped with barbed wire, though that didn’t always mean you couldn’t get in.
“Plan?” Travis asked.
“You head left; I’ll head right. Radio me if you find an entry point.”
“Roger.”
“Switch your radio to six.”
He nodded, fiddling with his radio. “Got it.”
“Radio if you find something.”
Travis melted into the darkness without another word.
I set out, sticking low and moving fast. I didn’t know if Omar was inside already or not, so splitting up was a risk. If we stumbled across Omar’s group, or if he had left guards behind, we might be at a huge disadvantage.
I couldn’t help but have nagging doubts. Alone in the dark, skirting along the fence, I kept thinking to myself how maybe I’d fucked up, maybe I’d picked the wrong target. But no, that picture in the motel had all but confirmed it for me. This was the only thing that made any sense.
And still, as I moved along the fence line and saw nothing, those nagging doubts ate at me. I couldn’t fuck this up. I couldn’t fail now when I’d never failed at a mission before. Granted, this was very, very different from any other mission I’d ever been on, but it was also the most important.