Home > Hetch (Men OF S.W.A.T #1)(11)

Hetch (Men OF S.W.A.T #1)(11)
River Savage

“Mom–”

“I’m proud of you, Bertie.” She cuts me off. “What you’re doing here, how passionate you are. I may worry, but never forget how proud your father and I are of you,” she whispers before releasing me.

“Jesus, Mom. Get out of here before you make me cry.” I wave her off, not needing this kind of moment here at work.

“I’m going. I’m going.” She takes Arabella’s hand and leaves me alone to process her words.

It’s moments like this, in the comfort of my mom’s reassurance, I realize how lucky I truly am and that makes me want to be here, working closely with these boys. Offering the same kind of love and support to them when no one else can.

Sometimes I might not be able to make them feel a fraction of what my mom gives me in a simple hug and a few words, but I’ll always try.

Because it’s what her love taught me.

Three

Hetch

“Why don’t you put the gun down and we can talk about it?” I keep my voice low, controlled, and free of any hostility.

“Don’t fucking play me. You think I don’t know what you’re trying to do?” His voice is harsh, panicked, but I don’t relent. I need to stay in control.

“I have a clear shot,” Fox speaks into my coms, letting me know he’s in position.

Mason Fox, our go-to weapons and training specialist. Fox has been on Team One for longer than anyone else. The best of the best and one mean son of a bitch.

I hit the mute button on the phone and speak into my earpiece. “Not until you get the order,” I reply, letting him know I’m still in control here. The air is thick with tension. My team is in place, ready to move at a moment’s notice. We’ve been going at it all day. I’m tired, the team’s tired, but in situations like this, tired doesn’t enter your vocabulary.

“I’ve given you my demands. I want this now. I'm the one in control. Do you understand?”

“I understand the situation, Devon, but you need to know what you’re asking for is not what I can give you right now.”

“Then you leave me no choice. I’m gonna have to start shooting.”

“You don’t want to do that, Devon. Work with me on this. Give me something more, something I can go back to my bosses with. Then maybe I can give you what you’re asking for.” It’s all bullshit. Devon isn’t getting what he wants. In fact, Devon isn’t real. Devon is being played by Sergeant Kaighn, Team Two’s tactical leader, and while Team One and I are in place ready to eliminate the threat he's posing, it’s all for training and review purposes.

“I’ve already given you FIVE hostages! What more do you fuckin’ want?” He’s escalating, and for the sake of today’s training session, I’m not going to be able to talk him down.

“You did, and it worked in your favor, Devon. We sent in food and some drinks. What about the injured guard? How is he holding up?” I press for more information, while Walker, our coms guy, works on getting us a better view inside the warehouse we’re training in.

“He’s doing good. He’s sleeping right now.”

Fucking Kaighn is busting my balls here.

“That’s not good, Devon. I need to get my men to him.”

“He’s fine!”

“Let me break it down for you here, Devon. If the guard dies, things are going to get a whole lot messier for you.”

“Oh, yeah? How much messier?”

“Well, for one, if he dies, you’ll be looking at murder. You don’t want that, do you?”

“I didn’t shoot him! It was an accident. He wrestled me. If he sat down as I told him instead of trying being a hero….”

“I’m in and I have a clear shot.” Tate lets me know his position. Preston Tate, the youngest officer on Trebook’s tactical team, is ex-special ops, five years on the force, and first year tactical. Tate’s fresh, but it doesn’t mean he’s not one hell of a good marksman.

One of the best I’ve seen.

Ignoring the coms, I continue to engage with Devon. “I know, and those witnesses in there will be able to vouch for you. We need to get him help now.” I can see him wavering on the video feed. His pacing has slowed as he rubs the palm of his hand down his face.

“Fine. But only the guard.” He gives me a chance to make my play.

“Good decision, Devon.” I hit the mute button and switch my coms.

“Okay, boys, we’re going in. He’s probably expecting a front entry, but we’ll continue as planned. Let’s hit ’em hard and smoke him out.”

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