Let Freedom Ring - Weston Parker Page 0,12

But I remained hopeful.

I was taking a page out of Renee’s playbook for this one. Sending positive vibes out into the universe better work because it had been way too long since I’d felt the rock-hard body of a SEAL pressed against mine. It was about time one of them reminded me why their bodies were the stuff fantasies were made of.

Chapter 5

Lincoln

If I hadn’t known for a fact there was a party happening inside the lodge, I’d have thought the cars in the parking lot belonged to people who had parked and walked somewhere else.

There weren’t many empty spaces, but there also weren’t many signs of life around. No partygoers converged outside the heavy double doors leading into the hunting-style lodge. No one was moving around the parking lot. No music filtered out from inside.

Hell, there wasn’t even a sign saying “Welcome to the Tyrant’s Retirement Party.”

On the other hand, it probably wouldn’t have said that anyway, regardless of how true the statement would have been.

“You think they’ve thought about reinstating us yet?” Eden asked after I’d parked. He tipped his head toward the lodge. “They’ll all be here tonight. Maybe we’ll get an answer.”

The knot that had formed in my stomach days ago tightened. Dearest Charles hadn’t yet decided on a fitting, final punishment for us for saving those hostages. At the moment, all we knew was that we had been “suspended from eligibility to take part in any missions in the field.”

My knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. I knew he was behind it. I also knew it was bullshit.

“You’re welcome to ask Charles,” I said, slowly peeling my fingers away from the wheel.

Eden chuckled darkly. “I know better than that. If I ask him tonight, he’ll probably serve my walking papers himself tomorrow morning.”

He might just do it anyway. “Who knows? Maybe the party’s put him in a good mood and he’ll tell us himself that he was the one in the wrong.”

“Have you been drinking?” My friend scoffed. “We probably shouldn’t even have come to this party, but if you’re as drunk or high as that statement made you sound, we definitely shouldn’t go inside.”

“Relax.” I let my lips curve into my trademark smirk as I reached for the door handle. “I’m sober. We have to be here. Charles may be a first-class asshole, but he’s still a Navy man. A brother.”

A soft snort sounded from his side of the dimly lit cab. “A Cain and Abel brotherly situation, but sure. Our brother.”

“Let’s just go. It’s all part of the politics we have to play to keep us from getting demoted.” Hopefully, but I didn’t add that last part.

“Sure. Let’s go play the political game, but if we get kicked out, you’re buying me beer for the rest of the night.”

“We’ll see.”

Eden and I climbed out of the truck and trudged across the empty lot. Dirt crunched beneath our feet, and the warm glow of the lights from inside lured us closer to the lodge—and into the lion’s den.

Charles wouldn’t be happy to see us, but I doubted he’d kick us out. Despite my reputation, there were other higher-ups who liked me. Those who had worked with me respected me, head honchos and foot soldiers alike.

I was also counting on it that Charles wouldn’t want to cause a scene at his own party. Regardless, we’d have to tread lightly.

Three stone stairs carried us into the wooden structure of the lodge. We were met by stuffed animals, not of the plushie variety, and chandeliers shaped like antlers hung low from the ceiling.

The corridors were quiet, but I’d attended a party here once before. I knew where to go. Eden fell into step beside me on the worn, blood-red carpets inside. “It’s weird, don’t you think? I can’t hear a thing.”

“Maybe they’re all standing quietly in line to kiss the ring of the self-appointed Torture Master.” I shrugged. “Or maybe the man doesn’t like music. We already know he doesn’t like it when other people talk. He has a thing for his own voice but his voice only.”

“I could see him not liking music,” Eden said while we walked. “Can you imagine what it must be like living with him? I wonder if his house even has a TV or a radio in it.”

“I don’t want to imagine living with him.” A shiver passed through me when I even thought about what it must be like. “I think he has a TV, though. He probably spends

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