Reclaimed Read Online Free Page A

overflowed her eyes and ran into her hair. I’m sorry, too , Connor . I’m so terribly sorry . She only hoped she still had the chance to tell him.
     

Chapter Four
     
    Uttering an unaccustomed prayer, Connor swung his Dodge Charger into Karen’s driveway and cut the engine. P lease let this work . He sat in his car a moment, giving the HRT members time to catch up to him on foot and to surround the house. His pounding heart rocked him in his seat. He and Gallway had rendezvoused at the street corner and devised a rescue scenario in less than five minutes.
    There was no plan B. It was Plan A or bust. 
    Gallway didn’t like it, but Connor had convinced him it was necessary. He’d seen this kind of set up before. The second bullets started flying, Jameson would put his gun to Karen’s head and pull the trigger, mobster style. The only way to decrease the odds of that happening was for Connor to get as close to her as possible before HRT made its move. 
    His old home sat in darkness. Not a single light shone from any of the front rooms, only a subtle glow coming from the master bedroom at the rear. He thought he saw a silhouette behind the living room window. At the same time, the ninja-like figures of the HRT members drifted through the shadows at the edges of the property.
    Most of them would enter the house via the basement entrance, using the key Connor had held onto . A few would remain behind the mature azalea bushes dotting his property in order to catch any “ squirters ” lucky enough to escape. 
    Kudos to Karen for confirming in their coded speech that there were two men holding her. No doubt Jameson was the expensive brandy.  
    His cell phone vibrated. Gallway was calling him. “Yeah.”
    “Entering the basement now,” Gallway murmured, his shallow breaths audible. “I hear footsteps overhead and a man’s voice.”
    “Proceed to the top of the stairs and wait for the go-code ,” Connor said. “The stairs squeak, so easy going up.”
    “Roger that. Be careful, sir. Keep your phone on.”
    Without hanging up, Connor dropped his phone into the inside pocket of his trench coat. That way, HRT could overhear his cue. His intestines knotted as he pushed out of his car. Fear was a familiar bedfellow in his line of business, but this went beyond fear. This was personal.
    The thought that this could be his last day alive jagged through this mind. And he’d spent it how? Working, as usual—something he had done day in and day out his entire adult life. Diligence had made him a special agent in charge. It had also sent his wife into the arms of another man and cost him his marriage.
    What a fool he’d been to think that he, alone, could hold back the tide of crime. There were others like him, men like his son Drake , who were willing to share that burden so that their jobs didn’t consume them, so that their lives still held quality and meaning.
    I t was Karen who’d brought meaning to his existence. And yet , in his ambition and his egotism, he’d failed to realize it. Until it was almost too late.
    As his toe hit the front stoop, he gathered his splintered thoughts, climbed the steps and reached for the doorknob. Just like Karen said on the phone, it was unlocked. His palm itched for the weight of his Glock . But if he came in shooting, she would pay the price. He’d seen that happen with the Marsalis case. So he kept his Glock out of sight, hoping it would be overlooked.
    Turning the knob, he gingerly pushed the door open. The familiar fragrance of home, of apples and vanilla, greeted him, along with a hair-r a ising silence.
    “Karen, I’m here,” he called out in a voice he hardly recognized.
    Click-click . The sound of a round being chambered had him pulling the door shut to shield himself, only he was too slow. A burst of light preceded a brutal punch to his thigh. He doubled over, clutching his leg, and realized he’d been shot by a pistol with a silencer. The shooter lowered his gun as