The Hard Way by Duncan Brockwell (electronic book reader .txt) 📗

her Rachel compounded her desire for him. Even her ex-husband called her Miller. The only people who ever called her Rachel were her parents, and only because they named her. From primary school up, she was always Miller.

“And you’re not the only one with a confession.” He sat her down on the sofa and started to undress himself. Walker took off his vest and fumbled with his trainers, then his jeans, sliding them off and dropping them on the carpet.

Miller waited with anticipation. “So? What’s your confession?” Everything was perfect so far. His back was so muscular, she ran her hand over his glutes and delts. Everything about him was perfect.

“A few years ago I got stuck up Annapurna with my climbing crew for three days and nights.” He took his left sock off. “We all suffered from severe hypothermia.” When he took his right sock off, there they were: artificial toes. “I think I got off lightly; a quarter of all climbers die on that mountain.”

She leaned over and took a closer look. “Oh man, they’re so realistic.”

Walker took off his toes and handed them to her, leaving the residual limb on the carpet. “The NHS wouldn’t pay for them, so my parents and I stumped up the cash. Two friends of mine lost fingers.”

Handing them back, Miller waited for him to put his toes back on, stood, and held out her hand. “Shall we go somewhere more comfortable?”

Walker took no time in kissing her, holding her buttocks in his hands. Mostly naked already, Miller sat on the edge of the bed. She felt every kiss, every lick, loving his unfamiliar touch.

Day 2

Wednesday, June 13th

14

Specialist Firearms Command (SCO19) officer Luke Walker had hated his name since primary school age, since being introduced to his very nearly namesake Luke Skywalker of Star Wars fame. His parents were avid fans of the space saga, so when his dad had the chance to name him, what other name could he choose when his surname was Walker?

Lying in Miller’s bed, stroking her back, Walker stared at the digital display from her alarm clock on the ceiling. 03:16. He needed sleep, but he was too excited. He’d tried to find the courage to speak to her for ages. Their paths had crossed briefly on duty when his unit were asked to raid one of Helsey’s crew’s homes. But he only managed to introduce himself.

The previous night at the gym was fortuitous. He would have found a reason eventually to talk to her, and he thought he made a good impression the night he and his unit went to apprehend Helsey, although Miller ended up in a tussle with their target. He thought she had to be the bravest woman he’d ever met. And she was in good company, partnered with Amanda Hayes, a legend everyone knew had balls of steel.

His mobile phone buzzed next to him. Reaching across to the bedside cabinet, he picked it up: work. Without hesitation, he sat up and answered it with the words, “Be right there”, flung his legs over the edge of the bed and proceeded to put his toes on.

Miller stirred next to him. “I’ve got to go. No rest for the wicked and all that.” Locating his boxers, he stooped down and put them on. He stood and stared down at her lovely face. She smiled up at him, mostly covered in a sheet. “Can I call you later?” He straddled the bed and kissed her.

With the clock ticking, he tried to tear himself away, but she kissed him deeper each time he threatened to leave. “I’ve really got to go.” Miller pouted as he walked away. At the door, he ran back to her for one last kiss.

The drive to the station took no time so early in the morning. He pulled up in a space close to the reception doors as a couple of his unit arrived. Zuccari, a British-born Italian, met him at his car.

“How’d it go with Miller?” Zuccari held a knowing smirk.

“That’s my business, mate.” Walker closed the door and walked towards reception. “Do we know why we’ve been called in?”

“Come on, man, don’t try ducking the question, how’d it go?” Zuccari made gestures with his hand that made him smile. “Hey, Vodka, Luke’s trying to dodge the question. He asked Miller out last night. I saw you talking to her at her car, mate. Spill.”

Vodicka, nicknamed Vodka, or Voddy for obvious reasons, marched up to him. “Spill the beans, Walker. She as good as I imagine she is?” She opened the door and marched through reception, using her card to access the security gate. “Well? Don’t be a pussy, come on!”

“Fuck you guys.” He swiped his card and the gate opened. “I’m not telling you shit. What’s the matter, Voddy, you not getting enough pussy of your own? And Zuccari, you’re not that hard up, are you? You sad git!”

Laughing with his colleagues and friends, he marched into the locker room and started getting changed into his combat gear. Their sarge strode in, hurrying them up. Walker noted his tone, and judging by the early morning wake-up call, this was big. “Does anyone know what’s going on?”

The rest of his unit shook their heads as they geared up. Wearing his bulletproof vest, shirt, black khaki trousers, tough black boots and cap, he was ready for action. In the lock-up, he and his colleagues signed out their weapons, their Glock 17 pistols and HK MP5 carbines, and marched to the garage at the rear of the station.

Their sergeant stood in front of their vehicles. “Listen up, people.”

Walker figured it must be urgent for the briefing to take place in the garage, instead of upstairs in one of the briefing rooms. He listened to the sarge explain that they were being tasked with raiding a warehouse. It was part of a wider operation. “So, take no chances with these scumbags, understood? Stay alert, but if one of these bastards