JET II - Betrayal (JET #2) Read Online Free Page B
Author: Russell Blake
any second.
She slid the key into the ignition and started the engine, fighting to calm her breathing – while outwardly she was unflustered, internally it was all she could do to keep from running into the house and grabbing Hannah there and then.
But that wouldn’t be a lasting solution. She needed to get to her – that was a given. But she also needed to be clever about it and cover her tracks, so once she had her back, she would have her permanently.
Jet shifted the car into gear and pulled slowly from the curb, throwing Joanie a curt wave as she drove away, mind whirling with conflicting emotions. Her daughter was mere footsteps away, healthy and beautiful, and yet Jet was forced to drive off as though she didn’t exist. The unfairness of the situation rankled as she turned onto the larger street that led to the main boulevard. She had done nothing wrong, and yet her child had been stolen and given to another woman to raise – by David: the man who was her father, a man Jet loved but could never forgive for stealing Hannah away.
The bitterness of the betrayal rose in her gorge as she thought of it, and then a wave of grief washed over her as she remembered his last moments, trying to make amends for doing the unforgivable; all in the interests of keeping those he loved safe.
Jet brushed the tears of frustration from her face as she pulled to the stop sign, looking in both directions before rolling through it.
What was done was done. David was dead and was never coming back, and she was now in Nebraska and had the most important job of her life to do.
She’d found her Hannah.
Finally.
Now she needed to get her back.
In the end, the rest was noise.
Getting Hannah back was the only thing that mattered.
Chapter 3
Jet pulled the stolen Toyota Camry to the curb thirty yards from the house, having shut off the headlights as she inched to the curb. All the surrounding homes were dark, with the exception of a few porch lights glimmering in the shadows of midnight. She exited the vehicle, hoisted a black nylon backpack she’d bought earlier that day, and made her way to the vacant home she’d toured three days before with Joanie.
She edged to the porch and stooped, quickly finding the agent lock box and turning the combination to the numbers she’d memorized when Joanie had opened it. Her latex gloves squeaked on the slick surface as she fished inside for the key, and after unlocking the front door, she returned it to its hiding place, spinning the dial so it stopped on a random digit.
Once inside the empty house, she quickly pulled night vision goggles from the bag and put them on – courtesy of an overnight delivery from an internet vendor. She knew better than to purchase anything specialized in Omaha. Caution was an indelible part of her makeup when preparing for any kind of an operation, and rescuing her daughter was no different.
The interior of the house illuminated in the green glow of the goggles – a common commercial version that would be suitable for tonight’s task – and she extracted the rest of her gear.
Jet sat cross-legged on the floor and watched the street out front for forty-five minutes, wary of any movement or signs of life. Nothing. No cars, no dog walkers. The neighborhood was completely still.
She crept to the back door and eased it open, then took cautious steps to the fence that separated the yards. Seeing nothing suspicious, she climbed over the wood slats and moved to the rear entrance of Hannah’s house, ears straining for sounds of movement inside.
The lock took fifteen seconds. She slowly twisted the knob, careful not to make any sound, and when the latch freed, she pushed it open, the hinges silent from the drop of oil she’d applied to each before jimmying the lock.
The house was the twin of the vacant one next door, so she knew exactly where the master bedroom and the guest bedrooms would be. It was a better-than-even chance that Hannah
She slid the key into the ignition and started the engine, fighting to calm her breathing – while outwardly she was unflustered, internally it was all she could do to keep from running into the house and grabbing Hannah there and then.
But that wouldn’t be a lasting solution. She needed to get to her – that was a given. But she also needed to be clever about it and cover her tracks, so once she had her back, she would have her permanently.
Jet shifted the car into gear and pulled slowly from the curb, throwing Joanie a curt wave as she drove away, mind whirling with conflicting emotions. Her daughter was mere footsteps away, healthy and beautiful, and yet Jet was forced to drive off as though she didn’t exist. The unfairness of the situation rankled as she turned onto the larger street that led to the main boulevard. She had done nothing wrong, and yet her child had been stolen and given to another woman to raise – by David: the man who was her father, a man Jet loved but could never forgive for stealing Hannah away.
The bitterness of the betrayal rose in her gorge as she thought of it, and then a wave of grief washed over her as she remembered his last moments, trying to make amends for doing the unforgivable; all in the interests of keeping those he loved safe.
Jet brushed the tears of frustration from her face as she pulled to the stop sign, looking in both directions before rolling through it.
What was done was done. David was dead and was never coming back, and she was now in Nebraska and had the most important job of her life to do.
She’d found her Hannah.
Finally.
Now she needed to get her back.
In the end, the rest was noise.
Getting Hannah back was the only thing that mattered.
Chapter 3
Jet pulled the stolen Toyota Camry to the curb thirty yards from the house, having shut off the headlights as she inched to the curb. All the surrounding homes were dark, with the exception of a few porch lights glimmering in the shadows of midnight. She exited the vehicle, hoisted a black nylon backpack she’d bought earlier that day, and made her way to the vacant home she’d toured three days before with Joanie.
She edged to the porch and stooped, quickly finding the agent lock box and turning the combination to the numbers she’d memorized when Joanie had opened it. Her latex gloves squeaked on the slick surface as she fished inside for the key, and after unlocking the front door, she returned it to its hiding place, spinning the dial so it stopped on a random digit.
Once inside the empty house, she quickly pulled night vision goggles from the bag and put them on – courtesy of an overnight delivery from an internet vendor. She knew better than to purchase anything specialized in Omaha. Caution was an indelible part of her makeup when preparing for any kind of an operation, and rescuing her daughter was no different.
The interior of the house illuminated in the green glow of the goggles – a common commercial version that would be suitable for tonight’s task – and she extracted the rest of her gear.
Jet sat cross-legged on the floor and watched the street out front for forty-five minutes, wary of any movement or signs of life. Nothing. No cars, no dog walkers. The neighborhood was completely still.
She crept to the back door and eased it open, then took cautious steps to the fence that separated the yards. Seeing nothing suspicious, she climbed over the wood slats and moved to the rear entrance of Hannah’s house, ears straining for sounds of movement inside.
The lock took fifteen seconds. She slowly twisted the knob, careful not to make any sound, and when the latch freed, she pushed it open, the hinges silent from the drop of oil she’d applied to each before jimmying the lock.
The house was the twin of the vacant one next door, so she knew exactly where the master bedroom and the guest bedrooms would be. It was a better-than-even chance that Hannah
Readers choose
Thomas Hollyday
P.J. Night
Jillian Hart
Lisa T. Bergren
J.C. Valentine
Rebecca Tope
Lilia Birney
James Patrick Riser