by Logan Ryles
“Uncle Mitch, I want you to meet someone.” She turned toward Reed, and the smile she offered him was warm. “This is Chris. He’s the one who saved me.”
Holiday’s face was tired, and it had a couple bruises. Reed knew where those bruises came from, and he also knew why the senator’s chest was bandaged. He stared directly at Holiday and waited, bracing himself to run.
Holiday stared back at him, then smiled and offered his hand.
“Chris. Such a pleasure. I can’t thank you enough for what you did. You’re a hero, son.”
Reed took his hand and offered a small smile. “It’s an honor, Senator. I’m so glad you’re okay. I understand you’ve been through quite an ordeal.”
Holiday laughed. “You could say that. Mostly I’m just dehydrated. Hence all this crap stuck in my arm. Please, have a seat. Tell me about yourself. My goddaughter thinks you hung the moon.”
Reed hesitated, but Banks grabbed his hand and led him to the single empty chair. She perched herself on the left arm, and Reed reluctantly sat down beside her.
“What do you do, son? You military? You’ve got the bearing. And definitely the courage.”
Reed shifted in the chair and tried to smile. Holiday talked like a politician. “No, sir. I’m . . . a venture capitalist.”
Holiday raised one eyebrow. “Really?”
Reed decided to run with the lie. “Yes. I work with small firms. Mostly out west. Invest and promote growth. It’s all pretty boring.”
Holiday tilted his head and squinted. “Have we met before? Something about you is familiar.”
Reed forced a laugh and leaned back in the chair. “I get that a lot. A familiar face, I guess.”
Holiday nodded slowly, then smiled again. “Well, I’m so drugged up, who knows? I’m a bit of a businessman myself, though. I’d love to hear more about your work. We should have lunch sometime.”
Reed glanced at Banks sitting beside him. She looked happy, and he marveled at that. How could anyone experience the total terror she had been through and walk away so bright and alive? Maybe they gave her a sedative.
“Banks tells me you met at a bar. Hell of a second date.”
Reed shifted on the chair and looked up at Banks. He wanted to scoop her up and kiss her. Take her by the hand and run like hell. Make her his. Love her and protect her and spend the rest of his life making her happy.
As soon as the thought struck him, he realized it could never happen. Kelly’s warning echoed in his mind, and he knew it then as clearly as he had ever known anything: he could never be hers. His life was one of deceit and shadows and bloodshed—a violent, unpredictable, hostile world with deathtraps and menace at every corner—a harsh, cold place that was no habitat for love, and no home for happiness. He had already seen what happened when he experienced that passionate fire for just one night—the pain and harm that could be brought upon somebody so beautiful when he allowed her to become entangled in his dark life of lies.
He couldn’t do that to Banks. She was too special, too innocent, and too perfect. As he stared at her, his smile faded. The beauty there would be something he would never forget and never let go of.
But it would never be his. He wouldn’t break her heart.
Banks tilted her head, and her smile faded, replaced with confusion and a hint of pain.
Reed looked away and stood up.
“Actually, Senator, I have to be going. I’ve got some business in Europe. I just wanted to stop by and check on Banks.”
Holiday frowned at him, and Reed wasn’t sure if the senator was angry or just confused. Either way, he offered his hand again, and Reed shook it. Banks also got up, and the soul-crushed look on her face was more than he could bear. He nodded at her, and then pulled the hat down over his ears and walked toward the door. The guard let him out, and Reed accelerated toward the elevator.
He heard the door shut behind him, and another set of footsteps rang in the hallway.
“Wait!”
Reed stopped and felt the burn of tears sting his eyes. Everything in his body begged him to stop and turn around. To scoop her up. To hold her close and never, ever let go. The passion in his heart and in her eyes matched, and it catalyzed itself and fueled the fire. He wanted that more than he wanted his next breath. He turned around, and she stared at him with red-rimmed eyes.
“That’s it?” she mumbled. “You’re just . . . leaving?”
The molten feeling in his stomach felt like a hurricane, but the feeling still wasn’t strong enough to wash away the inescapable truth. He couldn’t be hers, and she could never be his. He was at war now. A war that would be long and brutal and would get people hurt. Banks couldn’t be one of those people. She had already suffered too much at the hands of Reed’s dark underworld.
“Take care of yourself, Banks. You’re an amazing woman.”
Without another word, he turned and pushed through the doorway to the stairwell, leaving Banks standing in the hallway. The stairs clicked under his feet, matching the tempo of his pounding heart.
As he shoved his way through the crowded waiting room and back onto the sidewalk, the cold breeze stung his face and chilled his cheeks. He looked up at the sky and felt the warmth of the sun on his face, remembering the touch of her lips on his and her amazing eyes shining with so much life and passion.
Nothing had ever felt so much like home.
Reed shoved his hands into his pockets, and without looking back, he turned away from the city and walked to the bus stop. The white MARTA bus was just pulling up as he arrived. Reed paid the fare and took a seat in the back, where he settled in and jammed his hands into his pockets.
As the bus turned northeast and drove out of the city, Reed pushed the thoughts and memories of the blue-eyed singer out of his mind. He stared out at the old city and felt the steel return to his veins. He would never forget Banks, and he would never let go of her smile. Someplace deep in his heart, she would be that woman that made the world spin, but for now, Reed had a promise to fulfill. A promise to complete thirty kills. With twenty-nine down, Reed knew exactly who his next target would be.
He pictured the face and imagined the crosshairs settling over the base of the neck behind the balding head and stern features. He imagined the touch of steel beneath his trigger finger and the snap of the gunshot.
Oliver would be thirty.
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About the Author
Logan Ryles is the author of the action-thriller Reed Montgomery series. Originally from Alabama, he now lives with his wife in Nashville, Tennessee. You can learn more about Logan’s books, sign up for email updates, and connect with him directly by visiting loganryles.com.
Acknowledgments
Overwatch was the journey of a thousand miles, and that journey began a long time ago when I first sat down and decided to write a book.
Twelve years and six books later, I have more people to thank for finally making it into print than I can fit on this page, but I would be remiss not to attempt an expression of gratitude for all the wonderful generosity that has helped me along the way. Here are a few mentions:
First, my loving wife Anna, who tirelessly supports me at every stage of my creative pursuits, listening to me ramble about my stories, sacrificing time together to allow me to work, and enduring round after round of editing with more enthusiasm than I usually feel myself. This book is as much her creation as mine, and I owe much more than just this story to her love and dedication.
My brother, 2Lt. Isaac King, United States Army, who has supported my dreams of being a writer since I was five years old, and continues to support them, read my books, and encourage me to keep going.
My parents, Tony and Karen, who have invested into and supported my creative pursuits since childhood and continue to love and support me as my work has evolved. Without their early investment in my writing
interests, I never would have written this novel.
My other brothers, Adam, Noah, Micah, Samuel, Benjamin, and my baby sister Hannah, who love and support me and have always loved my stories.
My good friend, mentor, and fellow novelist, Cap Daniels, whose advice, companionship, and support has opened countless doors and enabled me to pursue a career in publishing. My work is unspeakably better due to his guidance and encouragement.
My incredible editor, Sarah Flores of Write Down the Line LLC, who’s endless patience and relentless dedication to her craft has made Overwatch readable. I cannot overstate how greatly her work, partnership, advice and guidance has impacted both this work and my writing in general. And yes, Sarah. I know it should have been “whose” and not “who’s” at the start of this paragraph. But I just couldn’t resist.
My adopted sister, Hannah Malone, who has supported, encouraged, and assisted in my writing for as long as we have been companions in crime. She has listened to me ramble on about my ideas over many an Angry Orchard, and she has provided the sort of snarky feedback that only a sister could give.
My brother-in-law, Capt. Joel Pendleton, Southern Airways Express. Joel’s hard-driving, tireless dedication to pursuing his dreams of becoming an airline pilot inspired me to keep fighting for my own dreams, and his friendship and support of my writing has further fueled the fire.
My entire advance reader team, including Ike, Joel, Hannah, Alexandria Flanders, and Michael and Katie Farrar. This team read the advance copy of Overwatch, providing critical last-minute feedback and support.
I also owe thanks to the city of Atlanta, which has housed me on many a lonely night when I needed to clear my mind and try to make sense out of this thing we call life. The people of Atlanta are some of the finest I’ve ever met, and I will always know the Empire City of the South as my soul city. It was a tremendous honor to write a story set on those old streets, and I hope I brought to life the charm of Atlanta in these pages.
LoganRyles.com