Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 72669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
And he’d asked me to come home.
He’d never done that before, and I owed it to him.
It didn’t hurt that I’d seen a bullet fly right past my face only hours before Aaron had made the request.
My mind got the best of me as I looked at The Chief. “How’s the morale there?”
Chief Allen shrugged. “It’s been better. I expect it to pick up once the shift is full again. They’ve had a new guy or gal in there every shift. Consistency with them is the key.”
I nodded.
Morale was a huge factor in the overall feel of a job.
I’d had my share of shitty jobs, and I didn’t really want to work anywhere that was going to bring me down.
My blood pressure couldn’t take it.
And my fucking headaches.
“Good. Aaron—Fatbaby said that everyone was doing okay. I just wanted to make sure,” I crossed my leg over my knee.
Luke studied me, but Chief Allen started to talk about some bullshit course that we were required to pass before they could officially hire me.
“You’ll need to run a mile in less than seven minutes. Pull a human sized dummy from the top of the stairs, out a makeshift window, and fireman carry him down seven flights….,” Chief Allen was saying.
I ignored him.
He just didn’t have a clue what I’d been through the last ten years.
The only way I couldn’t pass the test he was talking about was if I had to do it through a hail of gunfire, and to be honest that would only be because I didn’t want to do it.
I was over having bullets aimed at my head.
Sure, I was applying for the SWAT team as a medic, but that was only because I didn’t think I would be completely satisfied if I stayed solely as a paramedic/firefighter.
I was what one would call an adrenaline junkie.
The feel of adrenaline running through my veins gave me a high that I couldn’t quite kick…at least not cold turkey.
I was used to intense situations, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to be just a plain old, every day firefighter.
I’d also gotten an overnight shift at the hospital as a security officer.
That, I had to admit, was to make myself as busy as possible.
Being back in the same town as Masen was going to be a strain, and I needed the distraction.
“The same test will be used for both departments,” Luke continued where Allen left off.
I nodded.
“When do you want to do it?” Chief Allen asked.
I looked at my watch.
“I can do it now,” I offered.
Chief Allen looked at me dressed in slacks and a nice button down shirt.
“You want to do it in that?” He asked, staring at my shoes.
I nodded.
“Yeah, I’ll do it now. I got a t-shirt on under this shirt,” I pulled on the dress shirt I’d worn.
“Okay,” Chief shrugged.
They got up, and I walked behind them as they led me out the back of the police station.
Our departure caught the attention of a few of the men sitting in a conference room, and they followed us out.
Luke led us to a field where a track was around a lot of equipment ranging from an old house made out of tin to a huge steel frame of stairs that I guessed to be the seven stories Chief Allen had said I’d have to come down with a dummy.
The track had seen better days, but I’d run on worse.
Stopping next to the table next to the track, I started to empty my pockets.
I debated whether to take the two guns off my hip and ankle, but chose not to, instead leaving them in place.
I didn’t know these men.
Sure, they were officers, but I didn’t trust my weapons with anyone.
Not even my own mother.
I did, however, get my keys and phone out.
As well as the few extra clips I always carried.
My wallet was the last thing to follow, and then I yanked my button down shirt up and over my head, instantly feeling better.
I hated dress shirts.
I was a jeans and t-shirt man.
Or a t-shirt and tactical pants.
I hated it when I had to get into my dress uniform.
Not that I would be doing that again if it was within my power.
“You want me to see if I can find you some shoes, man?” A guy asked from behind us.
I looked over to see six men behind me.
They were all dressed in SWAT gear, sans body armor.
At least what I could tell. Unless they’d suddenly invented some super-secret armor that didn’t look like you were wearing it.
“No. These are fine,” I said, looking down at my boots.
They were work boots.
Slip on boots that had steel toes and had definitely seen better days.
I could run in them, though.
Hell, I could do a goddamn lot of things in them.
Lift. Work on a car. Kick the shit out of someone. Fuck in them.