Depends On Who's Asking (SWAT Generation 2.0 12)

“That’s why you tried to break up with my sister?”

I hadn’t realized that Connor was there until he’d spoken up.

I looked back over my shoulder for Smoke who was usually close to my side, forgetting for a second that he was with Carolina. The men behind me were not only Connor, but Clayton as well.

I gave them both my full attention then.

I gestured at the house where their sister was being held hostage by some psycho.

“That?” I said. “That’s a normal thing for me. It’s always a possibility because no matter what, you’re always going to have someone that hates my father enough to do that.”

Clayton swallowed. “Don’t you think that’s something that you should let my sister decide on her own if that’s what she wants?”

I clenched my jaw.

“Fuck, I don’t know,” I said. “The thing is, I know what it’s like. I can’t fucking breathe when I’m around my dad and all that comes with being who he is. When I’m remembered. When I’m being forced to be someone I don’t want to be. Do you really think that I would ever wish that on someone? Someone that I love?”

“You love me?”

The whispered words from the telephone that was on speaker for everyone to hear felt like a shot to the heart.

I looked back over at the phone. The one that was projecting the voice of the woman that I’d fallen in love with, head over heels, over the last twenty-four days.

“I’ve loved you since you told me that my form was bad,” I teased, hoping to take her thoughts off of the situation in her house.

“I think we got a way in,” Bennett said. “There’s a root cellar, yes?”

“Yes,” Carolina sounded excited. “But…”

She trailed off, not wanting to give away anything.

Things happened after that.

The teams moved out. Snipers got into place. The rest of them spread out, one group going to the root cellar via the neighbor’s back yard, and another going to the front to await further instructions.

I walked to the edge of Carolina’s grass, staring at the team that filtered through the area.

With the kitchen being in the back of the house, the second team that was hitting up the front was able to move freely.

At least, we thought so.

“Maybe.” Carolina’s voice broke the silence giving the code word indicating the intruder was on the move.

Then all hell broke loose and shots started firing.

I watched as chaos unfolded.

Men dove for the dirt. The windows exploded from the inside out.

And then I heard Carolina scream.

I’m not sure what made me do it.

Maybe it was the memory of watching that chimney sweeper doing his thing as I’d dropped her off that night.

Maybe it was the fact that I’d seen the men surrounding the house and knew that this wasn’t going to end like everyone wanted it to end.

The guy just had too much fucking firepower. That was obvious by the windows that shattered outward like they were pieces of confetti.

Whatever the reason for my obviously stupid, superhero stunt, I suddenly found myself climbing Carolina’s chimney.

Seconds after that, I was pulling the top off with a brutal yank that couldn’t be heard over the booming gunshots and positioning myself in the hole that would lead me down into her house.

Using my feet on either side to help, I slowly lowered myself a few inches at a time until I could see the bottom.

I was also immensely happy that the fire wasn’t lit since she said she liked to do that on cold nights like tonight.

When I finally got down, I crouched low so I could see, then realized with horror that I wouldn’t be able to see thanks to the hole for the fireplace being too small.

I pulled out my phone, put my feet on either side of the wood, and turned the viewfinder on with the camera app.

I lowered it down and looked around.

The man was standing at the window firing at everything that moved.

Carolina was in the corner nearest me with Smoke over the top of her, growling loudly.

I had a decision to make.

If I came out of the chimney, I’d draw his attention. The wood would go tumbling out, and it would definitely make him turn around.

On the other hand, if I didn’t, he could just as easily turn around and put a bullet into Carolina.

I only had one option then.

Placing the phone in my pocket, I braced for what I was about to do.CHAPTER 17Dear Santa, I’ve been very, very good for the last week or so.-Caro’s secret thoughtsCAROLINAI could say, without a single doubt, that this was by far my worst Christmas Eve ever, and it was all my fault.

Ish.

Granted, I had no part in inviting that man into my home.

I knew that what was going on wasn’t because of Saint at all, but me.