Page 2 of Deadly Force
This is unbelievable.
While I waited around for my whistleblower to show, somebody was destroying my car!
Jericho,Hightower Headquarters, North Dakota, 11:13 p.m.
Caleb
My boots echo on concrete as I push through the heavy gym door, the wind slamming it shut behind me.
This is the first real workout I've had in a few days, and I don't want any witnesses to what might be a pathetic display of weakness.
I switch the stereo on so it pumps out Jake's random selection of drum and bass through the speakers, the heavy beat thudding off the timbered ceiling.
I start easy, warm up on the treadmill, then tentatively approach the bench. It’s still loaded with the same amount of weight I was pressing before everything went sideways, so I ease off half and stack them. Slowly.Methodically.
I’m procrastinating. Every fiber in me wants to turn and walk out the door, but this is a do-or-die moment.
Muttering to myself under my breath, I swing a leg over the worn leather bench and sit, lying down and adjusting so I'm staring up at the metal bar.
I breathe. In. Out. The rhythm steady, controlled. I grab the bar, flex my fingers, and grip it, feeling the familiar cold steel against my palms.
It lifts off easily.
Slowly, I draw it down to my chest and push it up, making sure I don’t lock my elbows. The movement feels rusty, like a machine that’s been sitting idle too long. My muscles tremble slightly with the effort, a subtle betrayal.
For a while, I’m tense, every muscle coiled and waiting for the pain, waiting for the sharp warning my body will send me if I’ve pushed too far, too fast. But it doesn’t come. Not yet.
I ease into the movement, finding my rhythm again. Down, up. The burn starts to spread across my chest, familiar and welcome, a sign that I’m still capable. More confident now, a sliver of defiance pushing through the apprehension, I sit up and add a little extra weight.
I have to. If I don't—if I let fear dictate my limits—I won’t be able to lift as heavy ever again. And worse, I’ll have proven them right.
I squeeze out one more rep, arms beginning toshake with the effort as I drop the bar back into the rest. The metal clangs against the supports, louder than intended, the sound sharp in the quiet gym.
Movement in the mirror makes me sit up. Silas. Watching from the doorway, arms crossed. The man’s a ghost when he wants to be. He doesn't look pleased to see me in here, his expression tight.
Yeah. Well. He can get in line behind Axel and everyone else who thinks they know what's best for me.
With a subtle look that speaks volumes, he turns the music down and walks over. The drum and bass fade, emphasizing the hum of the ventilation system.
"Thought Axel said not to press anything for a while?"
I shrug, reaching for my towel. "He suggested I lay off. I suggested he doesn't know what he's talking about."
Silas just shakes his head, the gesture carrying years of experience dealing with stubborn operatives, his gaze unwavering. "Mick just called."
I swipe the towel over my face, buying a moment, trying to keep my expression neutral. "Oh yeah? How's the puddle duck doing?"
Silas chuckles at the nickname. "Our alligator wrestler is fine. But his sister might not be. She just called him from the Tucson PD. Someone slashed her tires."
My stomach tightens involuntarily, a cold knotforming deep inside me. For months now, I’ve been trying not to think about Brooke Weston or about how she managed to put a serious dent in my pride. Trying and failing. The thought of her in trouble slices through my carefully constructed indifference.
"But she's okay?" I force out, my voice a little rougher than I intended.
Silas nods, but his expression remains serious, his eyes narrowed. "Physically she's fine, but Mick thinks she’s not being straight with him."
I frown, confusion mixing with something that might be concern. "Why not have it out with her himself?" Why did Silas interrupt my workout to tell me?
Silas looks at the eighty-pound plates stacked on the bench, as if calculating whether I'm pushing too hard, whether this is about more than just a workout.
