Page 109 of Until Joy

Four-thirty in the morning came too damn early, especially when my head had hit the pillow at one-thirty. But my body was done pretending to sleep. I'd been lying there for the past two hours, staring at the ceiling of a cramped hotel room, replaying last night's nightmare on an endless loop.

The sound of splintering wood. Tactical teams flooding our bedroom. Joy's terrified face in the strobing red and blue lights.

The double bed barely contained my six-foot-four frame. My feet hung off the end, and every time I shifted, the springs creaked loud enough to wake half the floor. Joy was curled against my side, her blonde hair spilled across my chest, one small hand fisted in my t-shirt like she was afraid I might disappear.

Joy had slept. But not well. Every little sound in the hallway made her tense up. I figured that she was waiting for boots to come thundering through another door.

This bastard had escalated beyond harassment. Beyond threats. He'd weaponized the police against us.

I carefully eased out from under her, my muscles protesting the cramped sleeping position. Joy murmured something in her sleep but didn't wake. Good. She needed rest, but if I didn’t get a chance to move around a bit, just a little bit, I might go insane.

The small chair by the window looked about as comfortable as a concrete block, but it would have to do. I settled into it and cracked the curtain just enough to let in some pre-dawn light. The parking lot below was empty except for a few scattered cars and the security patrol that Jax had arranged.

Every shadow could hide a threat. Every parked car could contain surveillance equipment. The SWATing had proven this psycho was willing to use any tool at his disposal.

My phone felt heavy in my hands as I pulled up the group text with my brothers.

GRAHAM: Anyone awake?

The response came faster than I expected.

WES: Yes, unfortunately. Dean's got the stomach bug from hell. Been up most of the night holding his head while he puked. What's up?

I switched to a private message thread. No need to wake up everybody with my churning thoughts.

GRAHAM: Can't stop thinking about last night. This bastard played us perfectly.

WES: The SWATing was smart. I'll give him that. But it also means he's desperate.

GRAHAM: Or getting bolder. Testing our responses. Seeing how we react under pressure.

WES: Could be. But he made a mistake too.

GRAHAM: How do you figure?

WES: He showed his hand. Now we know he's willing to involve law enforcement. Limits his options going forward.

I stared out at the empty parking lot, turning Wes's words over in my mind. The typing indicator showed he was responding again.

WES: Your truck's ready by the way. Shop finished the paint job yesterday. Looks good as new.

GRAHAM: Thanks. I need to pick it up today. I mean the loaner from the shop is fine, but it’s too small. Anyway, I gave it to Randy so he and Seth could split up and cover different leads. Nico gave Joy and I a ride to the hotel.

WES: I can swing by when July wakes up. Take you over to get it.

GRAHAM: Appreciate it. I'll get one of Joy's brothers to stay with her.

WES: How are they holding up?

GRAHAM: I’m beginning to like them. Seth's been helpful with security planning. Randy's stopped questioning every decision I make.

WES: Nothing like armed cops breaking down doors to put family squabbles into perspective.

GRAHAM: No shit. Be ready in about an hour?

WES: Half hour. I hear July in the kitchen.

I set the phone aside and rubbed my face. The stubble on my jaw felt like sandpaper, matching how my eyes burned from lack of sleep. In the field, I could function on two hours of rest for days at a time. But this wasn't the field. This was personal. The stakes were higher than any mission I'd ever run.