Page 31 of Lock Up the Darkness

Now that was no longer Killian as I’d intended, I had to find another way.

The Blowout was happening tonight.

On the surface, it was a rational route to Asher.

But it was also dangerous.

Too dangerous.

Too much chance of compromising myself and screwing up my big-picture mission.

Walking onto their territory, being in the lion’s den, surrounded by the heart of their influence and power, would put me at a major disadvantage.

No, I had to find another way.

And I would.

Unfortunately, it would just take time.

All of that compounding frustration was why I'd just finished off my second smoke in twenty minutes and was now pretty much eating my feelings, munching on my comfort foods—two cheeseburgers and an overflowing bowl of cheesy fries—while I watched episodes of my comfort show, Friends.

It wasn’t just the lighthearted warmth of the sitcom itself, it was the fact that my dad had been the one who’d introduced it to me, and we’d bonded over it and taken to watching it together.

Simpler times.

Happier times.

I hadn’t known either for so long.

Releasing a sigh, I finished off another fry, then sank back against the couch, kicking my fuzzy bunny socks up on the coffee table as I settled in to immerse myself in my show.

To de-stress.

To center myself.

To basically get my shit together.

I only managed about ten minutes into doing that when my phone buzzed on the well-worn wooden coffee table.

I snatched it up, my heart lurching to see a text from a friendly source.

From family.

Uncle Drew: Gave you the few weeks you wanted. Report.

I smiled to myself. Even though he’d been away from military service for over a decade, it still came through loud and clear, it was still a powerful part of him. Just like it had been with my dad.

This was the first contact I’d had with my uncle since I’d moved here. I’d needed to keep any sentiment shut down, fearing it would impact my ability to remain rational and levelheaded.

Not to mention, he had no idea I was doing this, on this mission. He never would’ve allowed it. And he knew his little brother absolutely wouldn’t have.

It had taken all the convincing in the world to get him to agree to training me three years ago after he’d taken me in following my dad’s untimely death. Especially when I’d urged him to train me the way he’d been trained, just as brutally. I’d cited that it would help me to feel less afraid knowing I could take care of myself, to be trained by an ex-Seal—if there really was such a thing as ex when it came to that. Well, it had made me less afraid. But it had done a lot more than that.

It had been the beginning of re-making myself.

I’d found another trainer following him, somebody who’d been able to take it to any even more brutal place.

I’d forged myself into a person who was capable of carrying out this mission.

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