Hard to Hold on To by Laura Kaye Read Free Book Online

really.
    “Roger that.” They made their way through the apartment and down the industrial stairs. “You up for a debrief?” Shane asked.
    “Always,” Easy said, glad for something operational to think about, something outside his head. Outside himself.
    At the door across from the Rixeys’ apartment, Shane entered a code into a keypad. The cavernous space on the other side of the door still looked like an old warehouse but had become their war room, their mess hall, and the space where everyone tended to congregate in general. Gym equipment filled the whole front half of the room, and Easy eyeballed a treadmill that had his name all over it. Nothing like a good, hard, long run to level him out and take the edge off.
    In the front far corner sat a long, makeshift table made of plywood and sawhorses, and in the rear sat their operations center, which consisted of a row of computers and monitors and several big bulletin boards and whiteboards covered with maps and mug shots and lists and unanswered questions.
    Per usual, Marz, the team’s techy guru, sat at the center of it all, stacks of files and papers that made sense only to him all over the top of the makeshift desk. Standing around him drinking coffee and shooting the shit were Charlie, Nick, and Beckett Murda, the last of his surviving SF teammates.
    Easy hadn’t seen Nick and Beckett since before last night’s op. He approached Nick first, exchanging a hand clasp and a shoulder bump with the guy responsible for hauling his ass down from Philly. “Good work last night,” Easy said. “Sounded like a big take.”
    The guy’s pale green eyes were a striking contrast with his dark brown hair. “Right back atcha. Took some balls to take out Confessions the way you did, but it was the right damn call.”
    “Couldn’t agree more,” Beckett said, as they repeated the greeting. Linebacker big, always serious-faced, and scarred all around his right eye from a grenade explosion, Beckett was their gadget man. A mechanical device didn’t exist that he couldn’t build, rebuild, or improve upon.
    Weapons and explosives? Now that was Easy’s gig. When his team had gone to Confessions the night before to rescue Jenna from where they’d learned she was being held, E had brought along some C-4 in case the shit went south. As shit was wont to do. And south it had gone.
    Jenna wasn’t where their intel had said she should be. Instead, they found an informant who’d helped them dead from multiple stab wounds to the chest. And then they’d learned that Bruno had taken her with him to the gun deal.
    Easy’s rage had gone nuclear, and the deep need to take Confessions out so the Church Gang could never again use it to hurt Jenna, Sara, or any other woman had been all-consuming.
    The thought made Easy antsy to know if what he’d done had worked. He ticked off his thoughts on his fingers. “Way I see it, we need a status update on the Church Gang. Whether the explosion leveled Confessions. What the impact of your raid on the gun deal is for them. What Church is doing and where he is.” One by one he met each of the other men’s eyes. “You know we gotta take him out before all this is said and done, right? He’s gotta be plotting some hard-core revenge, which means he’ll be looking for us. We need to find him first.”
    “I agree across the board,” Nick said, surveying the group and finding them unanimous. There wasn’t any official hierarchy or structure among them, yet they’d still fallen into their old pattern of looking to him since he’d once been their second-in-command. And why not? The guy was sharp, clearheaded, and had killer instincts. And Easy sure as hell didn’t want the mantle of leadership.
    Marz spun his chair toward them, a sheaf of papers in hand. “Way ahead of you. Miguel’s already working on a damage assessment of Confessions,” he said, referring to Nick’s retired BPD friend who’d been assisting them with manpower and