Grab
Authors: Anne Conley
Copyright 2016 by Anne Conley
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead are purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Cover model: Devon Ryan
Cover photography: Carlos Salazar and Tresal Photography
Cover designer: Love, Lust, and Lipstick Stains Cover Art
Editor: Tiffany Fox; Beyond Def
Formatter: E-Book Builders
Pierce Securities:Grab
Four Winds:
Falling for Eternity (Complete Four Winds Box Set)
Best Laid Plans of Boys and Men
Even in the indie world, it truly does take a village to publish a book. I have so many people to thank, it’s impossible to remember them all, and I know I’ll miss somebody, but here goes…
First off all, my street team is amazing. I have collected a small but fiercely loyal group of men and women who are super quick to offer me words of encouragement, congratulations, and how-to whenever I need them. To the Storyspinner’s Squad thank you. You have become my friends, and I can never have too many of those.
My beta readers, who read this story in its infancy, especially T-Bird. When I first wrote this, I was full of insecurities, and she helped me find my ‘new normal’ and realize that it was a good story which just needed a little tweaking. My beta team has been invaluable. I don’t think y’all realize how integral your part in my process is, and there are not enough words to thank you all sufficiently.
To the Indie Author groups on Facebook that I check in with every morning. You guys probably don’t realize how much you help me every day.
Tiffany, thank you for cleaning up my writing without changing the integrity of it. Thank you for helping me become a better writer, instead of chopping my shit up. And thank you for becoming my friend in the process.
Deena, thank you for making my books pretty, and making me laugh, and doing everything you do for me.
For Devon and Carlos, thanks so much for the awesome cover art, and to Samantha for branding it and making an amazing book cover.
To all the bloggers and reviewers who have spotlighted and reviewed my work, thank you. Without you guys working your butts off for the love of it, indie authors wouldn’t be a thing.
And finally, to the hub-meister, for making me a huge breakfast every morning, putting up with my mood swings, and basically being my everything. I love you so much it hurts sometimes, even when I don’t say it.
For my mom
.
I moan and groan about you constantly, but I wouldn’t change a thing. Thank you for instilling a passion for the written word in me at a ridiculously young age. I love you.
Dust swirled around Jordan, tinging everything orangish tan. He swore when he got home he’d be a different color, but until then, he’d be blowing dusty boogers out his nose every day. He could think of worse things. They were on patrol—supposed to be clearing out a building—but were still working the perimeter.
Carrying sixty pounds of gear, including their M16s, Jordan followed Hawk as he picked his way through some scrubby undergrowth around the base of the building.
“Got something,” Hawk called out, and everyone else went on alert. Jordan watched him poke at a canister with the point of his gun.
“I can get this.” The commander wanted the building cleared, so that’s what they were doing. A kid could have been the one to find this, and it was their duty to clear it, but Jordan had a bad feeling about it. Nobody seemed to share his trepidation, so he tamped it down, shouldered his M16, and got on with the job.
“Dude, wait for EOD to get here. That’s what they do.”
“But this one’s simple. I can get this one.”
“Yeah, famous last words,” Jordan tried to joke, his unease threatening to get the best of him. His subconscious kicked in with a soundtrack at this point, his clue this was a dream, but Jordan couldn’t wake. Instead, the plaintiff cords of Nine Inch Nails slowed everything to a creeping slow motion he was forced to relive.
As the wires came into view, Jordan helplessly watched them flop around like noodles as they bumped together. Hawk disintegrated just as Jordan reached for him. The fire racing up his arm barely registered as Duke, behind him, started yelling, “I’m hit! I’m hit!”
Muted popping noises filled Jordan’s ears in time with Trent singing about something he could never have, and the building’s wall collapsed on top of them, stunning Jordan. An intense feeling of claustrophobia claimed him, and he scrabbled at the heavy concrete around him, pushing it off, looking for survivors.
Thibodeaux, on his first mission, grabbed Jordan, yelling, “Gunfire on your six! On your six!” He yanked Jordan out of the rubble while Jordan screamed that he needed to get his fallen brother.
“There’s nothing left! Leave him!”
