When He's Bad (Walker Security Adrian’s Trilogy #2) - Lisa Renee Jones Page 0,3

is standing in this downpour indefinitely. No one will have exceptional visuals as we make our getaway.

I glance down at Pri. “Be ready for a shower. It’s a fucking downpour.”

“Better rain than bullets,” she murmurs.

Amen, I think. She’s not wrong. I slide the door wider, and hitch upward on my hands, into the downpour. I’m instantly drenched and trying to spy our enemy in what is near zero visibility. I lift myself out of the hole and rest in a squatting position, waiting for a war that doesn’t come.

Easing closer to the bushes, I’m up on my haunches, avoiding the booby traps I have set, creeping around the circle. I’m visualizing our path out of here as much as possible. The open clearing we have to travel on our way to the heavily wooded area beyond is a downside to my father’s chosen path. He ran into issues with tree roots that forced him to end in that circle of bushes.

For now, there’s no evident danger, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.

Eager to get us to a safe shelter, I return to the door to find Pri peeking out, scanning the area with her gun, offering me cover. And she dared to call herself weak. Holy hell, I’ve only known Pri for a few weeks and I think I want to know her for the rest of my life. Which won’t happen. I’ve always known that’s not how this ends. That’s not how we end.

Staying low, I close the space between me and her and help her out of the hole, the rain instantly plastering her hair to her face. Motioning for her to stay where she is, I reseal the door, covering it with mud and foliage. With both of us in squatting positions, I face Pri, and the rain is so damn loud I signal with my hands to tell her to stay with me, stay silent, and stay down.

Once she nods her understanding, I motion to the two bushes free of booby traps, our safe exit point, and fuck me, I’m drowning. Our feet slush a path through muddy terrain in that direction, and I catch Pri’s arm, holding her in place as I scan for a threat. I can’t see any sign of trouble or anything else for that matter, and I can only pray that means trouble can’t see us.

I wave two fingers forward and exit the bushes with Pri quickly by my side, both of us running through the wide-open space we can’t avoid. Our path is the dark haven of trees and brush, a vertical horror house of obstacles, but a familiar one I welcome more than I dread.

We live if we survive those woods.

Chapter Four

ADRIAN

The night is dark and thank fuck my memory is not. We enter the forest, branches biting at our legs, but I’ve run this ground and I know every inch of the path we travel the way a blind man learns his own home. I hold onto Pri, ensuring she stays on her feet, navigating trees and rocks in absolute fucking darkness. The storm is plummeting down on top of us, a blanket of water that might as well be rocks. And still, we plod forward.

Once we’re a good mile from the tunnel exit, I pull the flashlight from my pocket where I’ve stored it, keeping it low, pointing it at the ground. And I keep us in a forward momentum, determination in my every maneuver ahead.

In the process, my mind tracks in and out of the past, four and a half years ago in the past to be exact—the last thanksgiving my parents were alive. It was as always, a day that was all about family, and a spectacular meal my mother prepared, the chowing down process happening right before we decorated the tree. For a moment, I’m back at the dinner table. This holiday it’s just me, Mom, Dad, and Alex. Raf is halfway around the world on a tour, having scored a spot as an opening act for a big pop star.

“I’m so glad you boys could be here,” my mother says, scooping up another one of her famous tamales and setting it on my plate. I love these damn tamales. And I love the way her brown eyes light when Alex holds out his plate as well.

“More, Mom,” Alex says. “Your boys miss your cooking.”

Mom quickly obliges his request and fills his plate while my father laughs. My father loves this holiday time