Breakout Paul Herron (books to read in your 20s female .TXT) 📖

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2021 by Paul Crilley

Jacket design by Rob Grom. Jacket photo of barbed wire by Paul Bucknall/Arcangel. Jacket image of stormy sky/lightning by Shutterstock. Author photo © Paul Crilley. Cover copyright © 2021 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.

Hachette Book Group supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact permissions@hbgusa.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

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First published in 2021 by Headline Publishing Group

First Grand Central Publishing edition: April 2021

Grand Central Publishing is a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc. The Grand Central Publishing name and logo is a trademark of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

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Library of Congress Control Number: 2021931426

ISBNs: 978-1-5387-3703-3 (hardcover), 978-1-5387-3705-7 (ebook)

E3-20210305-JV-NF-ORI

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Epigraph

Prologue: Three years ago

Chapter One: Friday, August 27: 6:00 a.m.

Chapter Two: Friday, August 27: 7:00 a.m.

Chapter Three: 7:30 a.m.

Chapter Four: Four years ago

Chapter Five: 8:15 a.m.

Chapter Six: Friday, August 27: 3:30 p.m.

Chapter Seven: 3:45 p.m.

Chapter Eight: 11:00 p.m.

Chapter Nine: 11:30 p.m.

Chapter Ten: Saturday, August 28: 12:30 a.m.

Chapter Eleven: 1:00 a.m.

Chapter Twelve: 1:30 a.m.

Chapter Thirteen: 2:00 a.m.

Chapter Fourteen: 2:50 a.m.

Chapter Fifteen: 3:20 a.m.

Chapter Sixteen: 3:45 a.m.

Chapter Seventeen: 4:10 a.m.

Chapter Eighteen: 4:20 a.m.

Chapter Nineteen: 4:50 a.m.

Chapter Twenty: 5:20 a.m.

Chapter Twenty-One: 5:50 a.m.

Chapter Twenty-Two: 6:10 a.m.

Chapter Twenty-Three: 6:30 a.m.

Chapter Twenty-Four: 6:40 a.m.

Chapter Twenty-Five: 7:20 a.m.

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

Discover More

About the Author

For Jo

We survived, and there’s no doubt we’re stronger after everything we’ve been through. But still, after the couple of years we’ve had, I do find comfort in the words of one of the great philosophers of the twentieth century: “Things can only get better.”

And for Bella, Caeleb, and the new member of our family, Callum. You guys are literally giving me gray hairs, but I love you all anyway.

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When two hurricanes come into close proximity to one another, the vortices can pull together, merging to form a much larger superstorm.

The phenomenon is called the Fujiwhara effect.

PrologueThree years ago

Three names. Three bullets.

I made them myself. Cast the slugs from lead mixed with Amy’s melted-down wedding ring.

There’s a fourth bullet too. A special one just for me. It sits on the coffee table, glinting in the afternoon sun. First gold, then red, tiny dents and imperfections picked out in the casing as the light slowly fades.

I stare at it all afternoon, like a recovering alcoholic contemplating the bottles in a hotel mini fridge. I eventually decide to leave it where it is. Imagining Amy’s reaction is what tips the scales. She’d have kicked me in the balls for even considering it.

So I leave the last bullet behind in the house we once shared, the house we planned on raising our daughter in.

The house where Amy was murdered.

Something wakes you up. Something… other. Something that doesn’t belong.

You lie in bed, listening intently. It’s probably nothing. A car outside. A raccoon in the trash bins.

You check the clock by the bed: 3:46. Christ, you’re never going to get back to sleep now.

You reach out for Amy…

She isn’t there.

You touch the rumpled sheets. Still warm, slightly damp with her perspiration. The noise must have been her going to the bathroom.

You roll over. From this position you have a direct view of the bathroom. The door is wide open. The bathroom is empty.

There are rules for planning an ambush. I learned that in Afghanistan. In fact, there’s a shit-ton of rules, collectively known as mission analysis (METT-TC—mission, enemy, terrain, troops available, and time and civilian considerations), and course of action development (COA DEV). I don’t have the time, the backup, or the manpower for that kind of prep, but all the lists, all the rules, can be boiled down to four basic principles.

Planning, infiltration, actions on, and exfiltration.

Planning is the most important. You have to think the ambush through. Plot every last detail. Make sure there are no holes.

No mistakes.

You sit up in bed. Moonlight shines through the window, veiled by the net curtain wafting in the muggy midsummer breeze.

“Amy?”

No response. You get out of bed, head to the door, move out into the hallway. You lean over the banister. There’s a light on downstairs. The kitchen.

“Amy?”

Nothing.

You hesitate, an uneasy feeling waking in the pit of your stomach. You can’t explain it, but you suddenly feel that something is wrong. That something bad has happened.

The first job is to find a suitable kill zone. The place where the actual ambush will take place. A spot where the target needs to slow down is ideal, something like sharp bends in the road or a steep hill.

Whatever spot you pick, it’s important to make sure the location has good cover for yourself. You don’t want to be seen. Not until you’re ready for the kill shot.

You slip back into your room and grab your police-issue Beretta. You ratchet the slide, flick the safety off, and move down the stairs. A small passage to your left leads to the bathroom, a spare bedroom, and the kitchen. The living room is to your right.

You pause, wondering which direction to go.