Langley, Virginia.
"How are you feeling today, Sam?"
I took a long drag off my cigarette, trying to steady my nerves. Katie waited for me to answer, tapping her pen on her little notepad.
"Still having trouble sleeping. I keep seeing them, even with the pills."
Kate nodded, jotting something down. "That's to be expected. We're still in the infancy of your treatment. Are the incidents getting any better?"
I flicked the ash off the end of my smoke. "A little. There's some distance now. Like… I still appreciate how fucked up I am. But there's a layer of… fuzz? I guess. That keeps it from getting too real."
My shrink quit writing and her pretty green eyes flicked up to meet mine. She leaned forward a little.
"You've been heavily traumatized. Try not to think of yourself as 'fucked up.' You've had an injury, and you're getting better."
I ground the cigarette out in the ashtray. "Tomato, Tomahto, Doc. Traumatized people don't kill innocent people and get off scot-free."
I'd told her about the girl. OGA would've gotten it out of me anyway, what was the point in trying to lie? She shook her head. Fiery red curls struggled against the hair-tie she barely held them back with.
"Sam, that was caused by hallucinations brought on by an extremely high-stress situation. You were quite literally fighting for your life."
I snorted. "Against an eighteen-year-old kid? No doc, I'm sorry, that won't wash out."
She looked almost desperate.
"Sam… when you saw their killer, she was as real as I am to you right now. Your mind was still trying to make sense of what happened to your team. It is not your fault."
I shifted in my chair, uncomfortable now. "Doc? Leave it."
"Sam I-"
"Kate," I growled.
She blew out a sigh. "Alright… is there anything else you feel we should touch on?"
I shook my head. "No, Kate. I think we're done for today."
Her smile was forced, false at the edges, and her eyes looked equally fragile.
"Same time tomorrow then."
Medellin, Colombia
In the end, I was reinstated, even got my rank back. CIA had their inroads, and when they asked a favor, USASOC usually delivered.
But going back to Group? Not a chance in hell. Leadership knew what I'd done, how far off the deep end I'd been. I was immediately seconded to the Agency, salary, and everything.
So far it was all carrot and no stick.
My contact hadn't been wrong. Diaz and company bought the bait, hook line and sinker.
Another shot of rum went down the hatch. The cartel lieutenant was three sheets to the wind, smiling broadly as his hand landed on my shoulder.
"Lamento haber dudado de ti, Samuel!"
I smiled at the red-faced idiot. He should, had every reason to doubt me, now especially. I was going to give OGA everything they needed to kill him.
"No te preocupes. All in the past, jefe."
All that mattered was that these animals bought it.
He gave me another broad grin. "I have big plans for you, yanqui."
Likewise, you fucking monster…
I gave him another smile and snatched up the bottle of rum, filling both of our glasses.
"I look forward to it, boss."
He tapped the glass into mine.
"Salud!"
Three long years later…
I settled into my role as the asset for a while. I took my meds like a good little boy and developed a comfortable routine. I wrote source reports and dead dropped them to a handler I'd never met. I kept my ear to the ground and did everything Diaz asked of me. Some things I wish I could forget. But I'd been assured that it was all for the greater good. Once I had the structure of the organization on paper, the spooks would authorize a sweep and kill everyone involved.
Tonight was just one more nail in their collective coffins.
Cigarette smoke wafted around my head, the acrid smell almost washing out the smell of blood.
Almost.
I keyed up the angle grinder and the Colombian cop screamed behind the duct tape.
He'd been doing a lot of that over the last eight hours.
I pushed my sleeves, crusty with drying blood, up over my elbows, and got to work on his other leg, slicing through bone with ease. He passed out again as it came free.
It didn't matter that he was corrupt, they all were down here. Every fingernail I ripped out, every limb I ripped off I could feel home getting further and further away.
I leaned back, raising the face shield and glancing at Memo.
"I'm gonna take a break."
He nodded. "He's not going anywhere. I'll finish up, take your time, hermano."
I grinned and pushed myself up off the floor, heading for the side room and the sink.
The shaking started halfway there. My heart began to pound as the room tilted.
Panic attacks…fucking panic attacks…
I shut the door behind me and slid to the floor, shaking and shuddering as I fought to get my breathing under control.
Would I ever be free?
The screams as Memo finished what I started were all the answer I needed.
One sunny day Diaz called Guillermo and I into his office. Memo had warmed up to me since I ditched the dope, and I played the role of his friend and fellow professional so well that it was almost real.
Almost.
"I have a job for you two, my cousin needs some extra security for a job. I told him I would send him my best. Who better than mi hermano and the yanqui?"
I smiled a little, hating every second of this farce. "Particulars?"
Diaz leaned back in his chair. "Abrego took a boy from a very rich family. Plan is ransom. The two of you will join his men and secure the cargo . Comprende?."
"Abrego?" Memo almost sneered. "This shit's going to get him killed one day. Now we gotta get involved?"
Diaz chuckled. "He is…a useful idiota as our Russian friends like to say. This will present more opportunities for us, and the bosses wish it, so we will oblige."
Memo looked mutinous, all I could think was that this would be a goldmine for my spooks.
"Where are we headed?" I asked.
Diaz lit a cigar, rolling it against a match.
"Thailand. Roanapur."
"I've heard of it. The wild west, no?"
He nodded, blowing out a cloud of smoke. "A dangerous place, but I have faith. You leave in a few hours."
Memo didn't wait to be dismissed. Rising from his seat and bustling out the door. Diaz watched him go with a sigh.
"Samuel,keep a sharp eye out. Abrego and Guillermo have… history. Make sure it doesn't cloud the issue. I have kept an ear out for the Hound… nothing."
I nodded, pushing myself out of the chair. "Hasn't changed in three years. Probably won't. She's too good at what she does. But thank you. " I tossed the platitudes over my shoulder as I headed out.
Memo was waiting outside the door, fuming.
"This man, Abrego… He is a coward who prefers to let better men do his fighting for him. He will not hesitate to kill anyone to further his ambitions, and that includes us. We must be careful, amigo."
I smiled and broke away, heading for my room to grab some gear. "Well, if he decides to try us, Diaz will be short a cousin before it's over."
Memo gave me a weak smile, but the anger was still behind his eyes.
Gonna have to watch this dude real fucking close.
I leaned back in the jump seat, rolling my neck against the stiffness. The small plane bounced on air pockets as we pulled into our descent. I glanced out the window at the lights of the city, pulling the bottle from my pocket. I felt Guillermo nudge my shoulder.
"They call it Ciudad de la Muerte"
I rattled a couple of pills into my hand and tossed them into my mouth, chewing them into paste.
"City of the Dead, huh? Ominous."
He nodded. "Ghost stories…"
"Either way, head on a swivel and let's get it done."
He nodded again and settled into his seat, that same odd look in his eye that he had back at the hacienda. I took a breath and steadied myself. I had Diaz's orders in my back pocket, and a whole different set to adhere to on top of it all.
I lost myself in memories of moments like these, just before jump-off, the tension, the nerves, and the elation that came with doing the job. Juggling the two lives was something I'd become uncomfortably comfortable with over the last couple of years.
It was a high as dangerous as anything I'd ever chased.
And finally, her face drifted across my mind, like it had so many times over the last three years. The softness of her lips and the earth-shattering impact of her fist…
How would this end?
If CIA put me close, I'd drop the hammer on her in a heartbeat, no question.
Then what?
Go back to life in the States? Take my VA disability and ride off into the sunset with the last job in the rearview? I might've been a mess, but I wasn't a fool. This wasn't the first time I'd had this little conversation with myself since the bar, and it never led anywhere good.
The wheels of our little Cessna hit the tarmac, jerking me back to reality.
Time to go to work.
Roanapur was vibrant at night. The smell of saltwater was omnipresent, rolling through the open window of our car as we trucked toward the meet. A local hangout called the Yellow Flag. I'd snorted a little when Memo filled me in. Someone had a major pirate jones. I leaned back and smoked, taking in what had to be the red-light district as we stopped at a red light.
Hookers dressed to the nines or dressed down into almost nothing waved at us. One of them, all hourglass curves and mile-long legs, blew a kiss and smiled. I winked at her as the light changed, her musical laugh following us.
I'd be back for her.
The bar came up quick, burning neon and seedy characters out front. The sedan banked into an open spot and all eyes were on us. I stepped out and threw my linen jacket on, letting them see the Beretta in my shoulder rig and the AK hanging under my other arm. No sense in anyone believing we were easy marks. Memo climbed out, locking up the Benz and gesturing for me to take the lead. I nodded and got to it, striding up like I owned the place.
I pushed the doors open wide.
Pour Some Sugar On Me roared out of the jukebox, not one of the almost fifty-strong crowd was unarmed, a few guys cheered drunkenly as two equally drunk idiots played five-finger fillet. I glanced around the room, catching sight of Abrego and an entourage of sicarios. I could almost feel Guillermo tensing up behind me as we crossed the room, weaving in and out of the drunk patrons, getting a few looks that disappeared just as quickly.
I didn't trust him as far as I could throw him.
Abrego eyed us with an expression I couldn't read.
"Long time, Guillermo. I see you brought the yanqui lapdog." He almost growled.
I laughed out loud and got in on it before Memo could respond, planting my palms on the tabletop and leaning close.
"You're about as much fun as fucking root canal. Let's not pretend here. I might be a lapdog, but at least I didn't need the cavalry for a simple fucking handoff."
The sicarios tensed. Memo snorted and Abrego opened his mouth to say something. I couldn't tell if he was about to do something stupid when he screwed a sick-looking smile on his face.
"It's only because of my cousin's goodwill that you're still alive, yanqui."
I smiled. "Yeah, sure. What's the rub here?"
He looked downright mutinous, but his gaze kept flicking to Memo, and I realized what it was as his voice shook with what I thought was anger.
"The hand-off will happen in two days. You will be there to assist."
Abrego was terrified of him.
"Where are we staying?" Memo rumbled.
Abrego seemed to flinch away from his voice. "At our compound, of course. For now? Do what you will."
I pushed off the table. "Wasn't so hard, was it? Memo? I'm gonna go sample the local talent, meet you at the spot. " I glanced at Abrego, "What's the address?"
He snapped out of whatever was ailing him, keeping one eye on Memo, and pulled a pen from his pocket, jotting the location down on a matchbook and handing it over.
I knocked it against the table. "Thanks, I'll leave you two to catch up. Could cut the sexual tension in here with a knife."
Memo looked like he was about to crack up, the corners of his mouth tugged upward. I didn't hang for a second longer. Turning on a heel I headed for the bar where a harried-looking dude pulled pints and mixed drinks.
"Can I get a Singha?"
He nodded, keeping his eyes on the pint, snapping the lid off the bottle and sliding it to me. I flipped him a few baht and took a long pull off the beer, relishing the taste, letting it cut through the dust of the trip.
One vice satisfied, on to the next.
I killed the bottle in three long swallows and chucked it into the garbage, sliding off the stool, slipping a five onto the bar for the bartender, and heading out into the balmy night air.
Before I knew it, I was at the shoreline. Waves lapped against the sand, and a cloud of smoke followed along behind me. I let my thoughts turn to the Bloodhound, out there living life while I was still stuck here, ruminating over her memory like a dog worrying a bone.
The kiss was not part of the plan. I'd fought that memory off before, but it came back at the most inopportune times.
Now, for instance.
She was an animal, a rabid dog.
But what was I?
I'd killed for Diaz. Kidnapped for him, tortured for him.
Then CIA had let me off the leash and I'd done worse.
And I'd been lucid for all of it. No hallucinations guiding me, no memories of long-dead friends whispering words of carnage in my ear. I had no one but myself to blame…
I felt my breathing get shallow, remembering her lips playing over mine, her tongue begging entrance as the smell of peaches and cordite wound around us. I started singing softly, trying to distract myself and get my heart under control.
"No creas que por que canto Llorona…tengo el corazón alegre…Tambien de dolor se canta Llorona… "
Because we're two of a kind, alone, lost, abandoned.
All we had was each other…
I kept moving, hiking up the small hill onto the main drag…
I had places to be.
The church loomed out of the darkness. I paid the cab driver and walked the last fifty feet, digging for a smoke. The doors opened before I could light it, and a woman emerged onto the steps, watching me with a set of gorgeous blue eyes, wisps of blond hair cascaded out from under the nun's habit she wore, and even from twenty feet off I could tell she had a figure.
"Nice night, huh? The moon lights the way." She said in a voice that sounded like melting butter, all smooth and warm. But there was an edge there, barely concealed.
I lit my smoke. "I could use a guide all the same"
She relaxed and my eyes flicked down at the movement of her hand that held a long-slide Glock low.
"You must be Aiden."
I nodded. "Blackwater?"
She nodded in turn and motioned for me to follow her. It was only out of that old sense of propriety that I kept my eyes off the curve of her ass.
Barely.
The first thing that grabbed me was the smell, old wood and incense, it rolled all over everything, and despite how much of a rattrap the rest of Roanapur was, this place was almost perfectly maintained.
"Like it?" She tossed over her shoulder.
I glanced up at the stained glass windows that gently filtered the moonlight from outside.
"Yeah."
She snorted. "They said you weren't much of a conversationalist."
Now it was my turn to scoff a little. "Is that why I'm here? To hold a conversation?"
She didn't answer right away, leading me through the pews into the small office beyond. Only after she shut the door behind us did she speak.
"You're my newest asset here. They told me you were good if a little unstable. I'm just trying to keep this light because the work is gonna be fucking heavy. So talk, or don't. Doesn't change the flavor of my ice cream."
She said it all with a smile on her face.
I nodded, dragging on my smoke and grinding it out in the ashtray.
"Long flight. I guess if we're working together, I should try and be pleasant. But you know what I'm after and why I'm here."
She nodded, surprising me by dropping the hood of her habit, revealing a waterfall of cornsilk hair and lighting a smoke of her own.
"As the unofficial Station Chief of this particular shithole, I knew what I was getting into. But I wanted you here all the same."
I raised an eyebrow. "Why's that?"
"Because I respect the hustle, Staff Sergeant. You have a score to settle and you're not letting anything stand in your way. One sympathizes."
"Then you know about my history. Why would you want a wildcard in your henhouse?"
She smiled. "See the above. I'm here to help as long as you're here to play ball. Want a drink?"
"Sure."
She pulled a bottle of rum out of her desk drawer and filled two glasses "So, what have you got for me?"
I finally let myself smile, this chick knew the score. Hell, she might be able to point me on my way.
"We're in town to facilitate an exchange, a hostage. They're being real tight-lipped about it."
She took a sip. "If I had to guess…Garcia Lovelace, heir to the Lovelace family. Big hitters in South America. He was kidnapped three days ago. So that tracks."
"Handoff is in two days." I snatched up the offered glass with a nod of thanks and took a pull. The sweet and spicy liquor warmed me all the way to my toes and I was damn sure I didn't want to know the proof. A drag off my cigarette followed.
"What's my play? Intercept? Do we want the heavies on our side?"
She regarded her glass for a moment, swirling the amber liquid.
"Play along, do what they ask you to do, and don't make waves. I know the outfit they'll use to bring him in. Best in the business for courier work. They left on a job this morning. I'll work my end, you work yours, and we meet in the middle."
I nodded, my gaze drifting upwards. "Sounds about right."
"Can I ask you something?"
I didn't take my eyes off the fresco on the ceiling. "Shoot."
"The Bloodhound, you chased her down right? In Colombia?"
Now she had my attention. I flicked my gaze down to her blue eyes.
"Yeah, I did. Twice. She got away both times and I got my ass kicked. It's all in the file."
She nodded slowly. "She doesn't usually leave people alive."
I blew out a sigh, more of a growl. "You're treading on some dangerous ground here. How about we just finish our drinks and I'll call you with my source report? I'm not interested in going down this road, okay?"
She held up her hands, the look on her face was all apologies, but I knew spooks well enough to know better.
"Sorry. It's just like seeing a unicorn, someone that she spared. At Langley, the woman is more of a myth than anything."
I played the game, waving her off. "It's okay. I just…you know the deal. You know I'm on pills because of this bullshit. Ever get tired of telling the same story?"
She took another deep pull from her glass, knocking half of it back in one go. "I get it, and it's not something I'd want to rehash either. Just curious is all."
"Curse of the profession, no?" I shot back, and she smiled.
"Ad infinitum."
I killed my glass, kinda liking the way her eyes flashed a little in the dim light from the single naked bulb. They reminded me of another set of baby blues. I relaxed into the chair, getting comfortable.
"Any chance for another?"
The pretty spook rose out of her chair, swaying across the room and leaving my question unanswered, taking the bottle with her. She fiddled with a record player until Mondo Bongo filled the room. The look she shot me over her shoulder was almost sultry.
Had to be a trick of the light.
"Some music always helps me relax after a long flight."
The music chased her back to the table and I kinda wanted to pull my knife and cut that habit off of her. She held out the bottle, and I snagged it. I filled the tumbler to the brim and reached for her glass, topping it off when I got close enough. I corked the bottle and raised my glass a little.
"To dodging bullets, yeah?"
She brought her tumbler into mine with a soft clink, all smiles.
"To dodging bullets…"
Then she shocked the hell out of me, sliding off her chair, swaying around the desk…and settling into my lap without so much as a change in her expression.
"Have anywhere to be tonight?" She trailed a nail down the front of my shirt, snagging buttons along the way.
I raised an eyebrow, "You always move this fast?"
She shrugged.
"I like the way you're put together, and there aren't any guarantees in this business. We might be dead by this time tomorrow…why not enjoy ourselves?"
I looked away, flicking my cigarette before returning my gaze to the beautiful Case Officer.
"I suppose you got me there…Sister."
Now she grinned, getting closer and closer until I could feel her breath on my lips.
"So…my child. Would you like me to absolve you of your sins?"
I could feel the sunlight playing over my face before I opened my eyes. The small room was all but bare, save for a few personal things on the big dresser in the corner.
A quick glance around the room revealed my company for the evening, sitting, gloriously naked, on the wide bay windowsill. A pretty painted foot bobbed gently to a tune only she could hear. The view of Roanapur Bay just beyond her only enhanced the image.
The nun was stacked.
If I wasn't going to hell for all the horrible things I'd done, that line of thinking sealed the deal. It hadn't been planned. But it was in no way unwelcome. I'd take any kind of affection thrown my way, even a brief sultry tryst with a fake nun.
I propped myself up on some of the incredibly soft pillows, groping for my smokes on the nightstand.
"I hear you moving around." Came the same voice that had moaned my name only a few hours earlier.
I lit a smoke and slid an arm behind my head. "Wasn't trying to be quiet, CIA."
She dragged her gaze from the open ocean and looked me in the eye, flashing perfect teeth.
"After last night, you can call me Eda."
I grinned. "Fair enough…Eda."
The smile she gave me let me know that she wasn't under any illusions either. Last night was last night. It was a brand new day.
And it was time to get back to work.
Almost like she could hear my thoughts, she slid off the windowsill and walked across the room. I watched her ass sway, the muscles in her mile-long legs flexed and relaxed.
In another life? Eda Blackwater would've been quite a catch.
Too bad.
I watched and smoked as she got dressed, pulling on civvie clothes. She kept throwing me little glances as she shimmied into a pair of safari pants and a deep blue t-shirt. When she was done she crossed the room and crawled up onto the bed. She planted a kiss on my lips, and pushed me into the pillows as her tongue gently explored.
When we finally came up for air she stayed close, smiling as she plucked the cigarette from my hand and took a drag. She blew the smoke away from my face and swirled a couple of wild blonde strands with it.
"You need to get back to Guillermo and Abrego before they start asking too many questions."
I smiled and nodded. "Yeah, probably a smart move."
The nun let me up and I rolled out of bed, snatching my clothes off the floor and getting dressed quickly. I glanced over my shoulder as I slipped my Beretta back into the rig.
"Dead drop?"
She reclined against the headboard, one leg resting atop the other, watching me with a small smile on her face.
"There's a phone booth across from the bar with a loose tile in the ceiling. Chalk it low, and I'll be by to collect whatever you have."
I tossed my jacket on, reality rushing back as the pill bottle banged against my side.
"Got it. I'll double-line it if something's wrong. Until then, I'll wait for the exchange.
I could feel her eyes following me as I headed for the door.
"Don't be a stranger."
I smiled and shut the door behind me, feeling a little more alive than I had in a while.
Bless me, Sister, for I'm gonna keep sinning…
"Where the fuck you go?"
Memo's questioning tone brought me out of the chorizo and eggs I was digging in like a man possessed.
I shrugged and smiled.
"Local talent, hermano."
Was I lying?
He smiled a little, didn't reach his eyes, so I set my fork down and asked the question that had been burning me since Medellin.
"What's with you and Abrego? Blind man could see the tension there. Why's he scared of you?"
And for a split-second, I thought I was going to have to shoot him, his eyes lost all expression and the temperature dropped a few degrees before he sighed.
"I suppose it is unavoidable, were friends once. Like brothers. He was to marry mi hermana, Isabel…"
I leaned forward, not out of concern but curiosity. If his little vendetta could make problems for Diaz, I might be able to use it.
He kept going, oblivious.
"She was killed because of a deal he made. Caught in the crossfire you could say. That maricon is alive because he is familia to the jefe. I would have killed him a dozen times by now, butI had to work for Diaz. So I had to swallow what happened to mi hermana. Seeing him now… it breaks my heart that I cannot kill him for my Bella… "
He ended it on a growl and I realized that this wasn't some trumped up bullshit. He was opening up, letting me in. He really thought I was a friend… I screwed a look of concern on my face, "Jesus, Memo…I'm sorry…"
He waved me off, sniffing a bit.
"Ah, history, amigo, ancient history."
I nodded, trying to look sympathetic.
"Fuck me, no wonder. Listen, bud, maybe we make it look like an accident?"
He smiled. "Diaz would know, but thank you, my friend." He shook himself out of it, "So,it looks like we have a day to kill. I'm going to go sample this 'local talent' for myself, care to come along?"
He had me there, I couldn't split off again without drawing some kinda suspicion.
So I grinned. "Sure. Somebody's gotta watch your back."
We walked down the street like we owned the place. My Beretta sat snug in its shoulder rig, barely showing under the linen shirt I wore.
The humidity was oppressive, but the place had its charms. A few call girls waved at us from the opposite corner, one bent over a little and shimmied, damn near falling out of her sheer dress.
Very charming indeed.
A madam waited out front of a clean-looking place on our side of the street. A few of her stable milled around and Memo's eyes lit up when he spied a curvy girl leaning on the door frame. She had one elegant heel propped against the bricks, and threw her hips into an arch that almost had me whistling.
"Ahí tienes, amigo." I chuckled, jerking my head at the crowd.
He nodded grinning. "Maldita sea, ella está caliente"
He wasn't wrong. She was beyond sexy.
I chuckled. "En serio, get after it. I'm smoked from last night. Gonna head on over there," I pointed at a row of shops. "Grab some souvenirs."
He slapped my shoulder and sped up, pulling a roll from his pocket and waving it at the madam. I crossed against the light and hooked into the shop.
I smiled at the cashier, a kid of about fifteen, looking bored out of his mind. My eyes flicked to the cathouse across the street. The inside of the small store wasn't much better than the sidewalk. A small steel fan blasted what cool air there was along aisles of food and drinks. Local beers like Singha and imports like Sapporo sat in open ice chests at the back.
Fuck me…Is that a Budweiser?!
A lone can of my teen years sat among the ice, waiting for me like a gift from God himself. I put a little pep in my step and snatched the sweating item out of the chest. I grabbed a bag of red curry chips on my way back to the counter. The kid spoke in rapid Thai and I shook my head. He rolled his eyes. I pointed at a pack of Marlboros and he huffed a little.
We settled up and I wandered back into the street, finding a shady spot and a bench. I opened the beer with a snapping hiss and took my first sip.
Perfection.
And for the first time in a long time I let my guard down, leaned back into that bench, and… relaxed.
There wasn't anything to do but wait for Memo to get his rocks off. The OP was in motion, and the Hound?
She was in the rearview, it burned me, but there it was.
I doubted I'd ever get justice, not in any real way. CIA was using me. I'd known for years that they never intended to hand her over. But I'd play their game, get these animals in body bags or black sites, and ride off into the sunset. I'd go back to Red Rock and see Mom, try to apologize for it all before I left the States for good.
Where would I go? Maybe Medellin, maybe Cuzco. I'd gone to Peru on leave once. Beautiful place. I'd take my meds for the rest of my life, maybe buy a bar and be that crusty old American that people didn't fuck with.
I needed peace. Hell, I've earned it.
Maybe I just went into the cathouse and killed Guillermo? Waltzed back to Abrego's, set some charges in the basement and dropped the building on top of all those scumbags?
Too fucking easy, Staff Sergeant. Try again…
I couldn't help the sigh that slipped out of me as my sense of calm fled. My neck slowly tensed and I was back on familiar ground, cursing my moment of weakness.
Oh sure, I'd retire.
Right after I killed that bitch.
An hour passed, then two. I was beginning to wonder if Memo was part machine when he sauntered up, smiling from ear to ear.
"Life is good, no?"
I chuckled, slid my mask on, and patted the open space next to me. He slid down and sighed, leaning against the backrest.
"Chica wrang you out huh?"
He nodded. "Angelito…mierda…"
I snorted and we both lost it a little. Memo reached out and slapped me on the shoulder.
"Now, a drink?"
I smiled. "Lead the way."
The next night.
The meet was in a few hours, and I was taking inventory.
The record player snapped and popped in the corner. The Gipsy Kings crooned Un Amor as I ran a cleaning rod through my Beretta. Smoke haloed around my head from the cigarette clenched in between my teeth. I had four loaded mags for the nine-millimeter, six racked mags for the shorty AK that'd be my heavier companion for the night, and a custom war belt would hold everything close under the suit I'd be wearing.
The whole process took the tremor out of my hands. My murderous profession brought me a sense of serenity that had been absent in every other aspect of my life since…
Since I was eighteen.
The shotgun swung up as Dad reeled back to hit her again. I almost pulled the triggers and scattered him across the living room when she screamed.
Mom, always looking out for me.
Someone knocked once, bringing me back to reality.
"Yeah?"
Memo answered. "Time to go, hermano."
"Comprendido," I called back, glancing at my kit laid out in front of me.
My eyes flicked up through the smoke and settled on the mirror at the far end of the room. I didn't see the kid with a dad who liked to drink staring back at me. That kid had been a football player. He was someone who believed in Mom, Apple Pie, and America.
Until the moment the illusion had shattered.
I slid the Beretta back together, racking the slide three times, and testing the reset before seating a magazine and chambering a round. It slid into the leather holster on my hip. The AK was next. The sling looped over my head and settled the weapon against my ribs. The final piece was the slate gray linen suit jacket that I whipped around my shoulders, concealing everything beneath the finely tailored fabric.
No, I wasn't that kid anymore.
I crossed the room and pulled the door open, catching Memo's eye.
"Head on a swivel, amigo."
He nodded and jerked his head at the crowd of sicarios milling around the door. They looked twitchy. I clocked more than a few noses with powder still caked on.
Fuck me.
Memo shrugged and rolled his eyes, motioning for me to follow. We hit the courtyard and I whistled at the ride he'd procured.
The Camaro was a thing of beauty.
"I am absolutely stealing this off you at some point 'mano."
He chuckled, sliding into the driver's seat.
"I think not, Blanco. Get in."
I cracked up a little, trying not to think about all the ways this could get me killed.
We pulled up to the Yellow Flag with a convoy at our backs. The plan was to split the element. Memo would be a few blocks away with a reaction force in case anyone tried to spike the meet. I'd go in and supervise the bullshit.
Good times.
Memo grabbed my arm as I went to get out.
"Don't get fucking killed, okay?"
I smiled. "Don't tell me how to live my life, bud."
The neon flashed at me as the Camaro pulled off, leading the convoy into the night. The place was dead quiet, save for the cartel idiots that ringed the room, watching all the corners. Abrego was at his table, surrounded by his coterie of ass kissers. He sneered as I approached and I was about to flip him off when one of his guys grabbed his arm and pointed over my shoulder.
I followed his gaze to the newcomers that had just breezed in. An absolute mountain of a man, flanked by a smoking hot brunette, a tall blonde dude, and a guy who looked like he was on his way to the office, tie and everything.
The big guy was towing a kid that looked to be twelve or thirteen and wildly out of place in this shithole. He glanced around the room, concerned, but not frightened like he should have been.
Weird.
"Right on time with the brat." Abrego's voice cut into my musings before the line of thinking could really get rolling. He must've seen the disgust on my face.
"The cargo," he added, almost gleeful at how pissed I was. "Not getting cold feet, are we, yanqui?"
Holy fuck I'm going to kill this smug prick.
I was growling now, beyond livid. I felt Memo's hand on my shoulder. If the prick had been anybody else, I might've appreciated the gesture. I shrugged his hand off and watched the smugglers cross the floor with the little boy in tow.
"Dutch!" Abrego called out, "Smooth sailing, yes?"
"No problems," the big guy rumbled.
Abrego snapped his fingers and a bag was passed across the table, the Brunette darted forward and snatched it up, unzipping it and pawing through the interior.
"Are we good?" Dutch asked.
She nodded and hoisted the bag over her shoulder with a smile.
"Golden."
Her voice was two-pack a day raspy, but not unpleasant.
"Have a drink!" Abrego offered, "On me for a job well done."
The chick smiled. "Fuck, I'll never turn down free booze! Be right back."
The huge dude smiled a little. "That's a plan, Revy. I'll grab the usual."
Revy?
I was suddenly years and miles away.
I slid the bolt-carrier group back into my '16, closing up the receiver and pulling a quick function check. Someone nudged me, Hayes, solid dude, great Ranger.
"Weber seem…off to you?"
I glanced over, sliding my 1911 back together, the Corporal was in his rack, leaning against the wall, some book on economics open in his lap. Six hours from step-off and he was reading the kinda shit that would put most guys to sleep.
But it was his hands that had Hayes wondering, fingers gently rubbing that tattoo on his right forearm, looping letters that were slightly uneven, I'd asked him about it once, and he'd just ignored me, brushed the question off and told me to keep PMCS'ing that Humvee.
It was a name, I was sure of it. Rachel, maybe?
I took a chance and walked up, leaving Hayes standing at the table.
"Everything good, Corporal?"
His eyes were vacant until I spoke, his gaze snapped to mine and I could see him coming out of a memory.
And I caught a real glance at the ink.
Revy.
Weber pulled the sleeve of his jacket down over it like lightning. The smile on his face was weak at the edges, painted on.
"All good, Private, just ready to get this done."
I nodded and settled onto the edge of his rack.
"What's with the tattoo? The guys are wondering and I…I don't want to pry, just curious, ya know?"
His gaze hardened a little, "Some things are off-limits, Private, period." He raised his voice, " And all of you should be far more fuckin' concerned with the Panamanians than my personal life, right?"
"YES CORPORAL!" They answered.
Weber settled back in, "Re-check that gear, Aiden. I don't want something fucking up out there."
I was ashamed at calling him out, it felt like I'd touched something…sacred,"Wilco, Corporal. I…Sorry…"
He grabbed my arm as I made to rise, and when I looked back, the worst kind of sadness was written all over his face, I only caught the edge of it, but I could feel it coming off him in waves.
"It's nothing that's gonna compromise how I lead you guys, you're all coming back in one piece, I promise." His eyes, normally full of a scary kind of intelligence, were hollow and damn near broken.
"I won't leave any of you behind."
I nodded, feeling like we were having two different conversations.
"Roger that, Corporal."
I left him to it and ran over my gear again. Ignoring the questioning looks from our entire squad.
He gathered himself up and walked out of the bay.
I could've sworn I heard a quiet sob as the door closed behind him.
"Holy shit," I whispered to her retreating back. How many women on earth had the name? I'd wager I was looking at Weber's ghost. And from the way she moved, the woman was dangerous. The way the crowd gave her a wide berth confirmed it.
I'd ask Blackwater, she had to have some answers.
But for now?
Free booze.
I passed the kid and the big man, reaching the bar as the ghost came back in, sans the bag. If she was smart, she'd ditch the take where they could get to it in a hurry.
I was betting on her being smart, the way her yellow eyes flicked but her head never turned until she was sure, sliding onto a stool a few down from me, back to the corner.
Solid tradecraft.
I ordered a drink and snatched it up, side-eyeing the chick. I opened my mouth to ask why my old Squad Leader had her name inked on his arm when the doors opened again. I wouldn't have paid it any mind, except the conversation died.
A chill swept the room, like someone had walked over a grave.
My hand came up and unsnapped my rig as I turned, Weber's chick mirrored me.
A woman in a French maid getup walked across the room, hair done up in twin pigtails that damn near trailed on the floor. She held a briefcase in one hand and an umbrella in the other. She stalked towards Abrego's table like she was on a mission.
"Roberta!" The kid called out. And as she passed, peach blossoms wafted into my nostrils.
I knew the blood wasn't far behind. My glass slipped out of my hand and shattered on the hardwood.
I was on my feet in a flash as the maid curtsied daintily.
"Young Master. I have come to take you home."
My hands started to shake, the AK banging against my ribs like a second heartbeat.
So this is where she went? Quit the life to become a nursemaid to some rich family?
Oh my fuck…
Abrego's goons flipped the table in her face and drew down. That was what broke me out of my daze.
No way one of these punks takes her out.
That was mine and mine alone.
Her umbrella snapped up. I could see the curved stock of a shorty SPAS-12 zip-tied inside and a weird, wild thrill shot through me.
Get 'em.
I pushed the AK to the end of the two-point sling, the slack pulling the stock out with a snap.
"Abrego!" I yelled across the room, "I know her! Give her what she wants!"
And she turned my way, throwing a glance over her shoulder, eyes obscured behind the anti-flash glasses she wore. Her face gave away nothing.
"Hello, Samuel."
That voice carried a note that was at odds with the threat her presence implied. Everything about her was inimical to life. I wouldn't be surprised if flowers wilted when she passed.
So why did my name sound like a purr on her lips?
And then she fired, the shotgun roaring in close quarters. It snatched a sicario off his feet and slammed him into a support beam.
"Matala!" Abrego screamed, and his men obliged.
They opened up spectacularly and my heart leaped into my throat even as I dove for the floor. The AK nailed me in the chest as I fell, knocking the wind out of me. I gutted it and rolled, praying that they hadn't gotten lucky.
The Hound was crouched behind her umbrella, shielding herself from the rounds with that briefcase that had to be made of Kevlar. She had her back to me, I could send a burst tearing through her spine and leave her to die bloody on this hardwood floor.
But I didn't.
I saw Abrego bail out the side door as she fired again, killing another Soldado. I got my feet under me, slapped the selector to auto and opened up into the sicarios. Some looked horrified as I advanced, burning the mag out the whole way, spraying blood and snapping bone. My peripherals registered "Revy" snagging the kid and jumping over the bar. I ditched the empty mag and slammed in a new one, ducking behind a beam and racking the charging handle.
A glance across the room revealed the Hound, mid-pirouette, the shotgun booming, and the briefcase spitting fire. I slid down the support and stayed there as she raked every last one of Abrego's men. Her foot made contact and scored the hardwood as she skidded to a stop
Her shotgun umbrella was pointed at my face.
I kept the AK pinned to my shoulder, the front post locked on the bridge of her nose.
"I'm not gonna miss, Sabueso."
The corner of her mouth looked like it was fighting to stay level.
"I will not either, Sombra. Young master?"
"Roberta! I'm h-" Someone must've gagged the kid, because his next words went muffled.
She reached up, letting the briefcase fall, and pulled off the reflective silver glasses.
Her eyes looked more violet than blue in the light.
"I have my duty to attend to. Leave me to it."
I scoffed, taking a step back when she stepped forward.
"Do you really think I'm just gonna walk away? We have business."
"And we will see it finished, but not before I care for my charge. I will kill you, but I would rather it not be like this, not in this place among scum. I would rather we fought like soldiers."
Did she see me as an equal?
Memo picked that exact moment to arrive. His voice dragged my gaze to the destroyed entrance.
"Samuel!?"
Fuck.
"SAMUEL!" He yelled through a window.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
I looked back at her
"I'll see you soon."
Now her lips did quirk into something for a flash.
"Words cannot describe how much I look forward to it… Sombra."
My suddenly racing heart chased a shiver up my spine.
A flash of movement saw Guillermo waving me towards him and I booked it, crashing through the mostly destroyed window as more of Abrego's guys booted the front door.
Guillermo sprayed the space behind me with a MAC. The little .45 caliber buzzsaw was fairly indiscriminate, good for almost nothing.
But I bet it made him feel better.
"The fucking Bloodhound!" I snarled, selling it. More gunfire tore through the night behind us. Muffled screams cut brutally short. My mind ran with images of her killing them without mercy.
A teeth-rattling BOOM! Someone set off a frag.
A bloodthirsty smile broke across my face.
She's fucking magnificent.
I paused for a moment as the odd, out-of-place thought swept over me, before swapping mags for the AK.
And just like that, I was back. I reached for a grenade on a random belt.
She beat me to it.
The doors crashed open, the blonde guy breaking records as he sprinted for a low-slung muscle car. The big guy was right behind him, hauling Weber's ghost. She looked to be worse for wear, head lolling drunkenly. The office guy was hot on their heels, carrying the boy.
I barely had time to process it before the entire building exploded. I saw sky and asphalt, rolling faster and faster until I slammed into a parked car and everything went dark.
I was out for thirty seconds, tops. I retched onto the filthy pavement, spitting blood as my vision swam.
Most of Abrego's guys were dead. Memo was out cold if he wasn't dead too. I could still hear the GTO smoking the tread off the tires. The building was a raging inferno. Nothing on this Earth could have survived,
Except her.
She walked out of there, outfit smoking and singed, and started to run. Her target seemed to be a Mercedes parked a few blocks away.
"Fuck me," I whispered, shaking my head to clear my vision. I tried to rise but collapsed against the car.
The Camaro.
The Camaro that was unlocked.
I told Memo I was going to steal that ride from him the second he looked the other way.
If nothing else, I'm a man of my word.
I staggered around to the driver's side, popping the door and pulling my knife. I busted off the ignition lock and slotted the blade into the column. My head got clearer by the second. I stomped on the clutch and dropped it into second. The roar of the engine climbed as I eyed the 'tach. Down the street, the Hound peeled out, racing for the GTO's disappearing taillights.
And I smiled.
Through Roanapur like a bat outta hell. That'd make for a catchy tune.
I hummed "Highway Star" and took it up past sixty. Pedestrians scattered as I mounted the sidewalk to avoid traffic. I kept my eyes pinned to the Mercedes.
"C'mon baby" I whispered to the 'Rat as I slammed it into fourth. The GTO took a sharp right, shooting under the highway. The Hound headed for the freeway. I downshifted and took the turn, narrowly missing a food cart. We bounced up an on-ramp. For a moment I wondered what she was playing at. Car horns roared as she jumped the center divider, heading right for the guardrail.
"No fucking way," I breathed.
Seconds later, she drove clear off the road.
Crash!
Then a screaming engine.
I jerked the wheel and hit the brakes, following her right to the edge and throwing it in park. The door popped and my feet hit the pavement.
My shoes thumped as I jogged up to the twisted mass of busted metal. Fifty-feet below, the GTO had stalled. Deep scratches and dents marred its pristine paint job.
The Hound's Mercedes was buried in a storefront. And I could hear the Goat's engine trying to turn over.
She did it with purpose, just like everything else.
If she was dead I'd eat my shoes.
She broke from the destroyed storefront as the GTO roared to life.
There it is.
"Fuck…" I muttered, sprinting back to the abused Rat and almost diving into the open driver's door.
Back in business.
Fuck me…
I'd been in worse spots, but as the Russian goon thumped me in the back of the head with his AK I had a hard time appreciating the fact.
The two women tore into each other with a vengeance both beautiful and terrifying. Web's girl wanted blood for the tunnel the Hound had put in her shoulder. The Hound never ran from a fight. The blonde Russian captain had agreed to let them slug it out, more for the amusement of her men than anything. I couldn't do anything to stop it. The Russian bitch kept her gun on me. The cuffs were digging into my wrists, but I watched the fight all the same.
Hell, I couldn't stop watching.
Smack!
Revy cracked a right into Roberta's face and the Hound didn't even slow down. She threw a kick into the brunette's ribs and followed with a haymaker that snapped her head around, drawing a line of blood on the salt-stained concrete.
They moved and struck, dancing around each other without wasted movement, just pure uncompromising efficiency.
Someone wasn't walking away from this one.
"C'mon, Sabueso. Get her…" I muttered, sending a mental apology out to Weber.
His girl was something special.
She nailed the Hound across the face and they broke apart, breathing heavily. For a beat, it looked like they were gassed.
Until they lunged forward, almost mirror images, and knocked each other out cold.
I winced a little, feeling the force of the impact from fifty feet away. One of my captors passed a roll of baht to the other, who looked a little downcast. His buddy laughed. I remembered just how hard she could hit. I was far from ready for how beautiful she looked when it wasn't my ass she was kicking.
Eventually, they cut me loose, right around the time a boat slid into port and docked. The Russian chick said the Hound was free to go, and that was that. I was too lost in my thoughts to care about the particulars.
The guys holding me undid the cuffs and dumped my empty guns on the concrete. A few curt words from the woman, and they hustled to the waiting Mercedes G-classes and disappeared into the early morning air.
Fucking Russians.
I rubbed my wrists as the kid hugged the Hound tightly. She might've been bloody, but she rubbed his back gently and whispered to him in Spanish. I had no clue how to react. Maternal instinct was absolutely never a quality I'd expected from her. Halfway to them she looked up at me, her eyes shining violet in the slowly rising sun.
"Young Master, I require a moment alone with this man."
The kid looked at me and for a moment I saw old money nobility behind his eyes. His eyes promised retribution if I hurt his friend. I nodded, giving him my word with a look.
If I lived for a thousand years I couldn't tell you why.
He returned my nod and walked off. He shoved his hands in his pockets and admired the sea before disappearing around the corner under the watchful eye of the boat's captain.
I reached a hand out for her and she took it, letting me pull her to her feet. Suddenly, jarringly, she was way too close, almost in my arms. I was very aware of my last-ditch knife, taped over my right kidney. You could kill with a blade less than an inch long if you knew what you were doing.
And I did.
"Hello, Sombra…"
I could feel her breath on my lips.
"Hello, Sabueso…"
Her eyes flicked back and forth as she stared into mine.
"Not in front of the boy. I ask you this one favor for his sake. Not where he can see…"
I nodded, memories and barely suppressed insanity roaring at me.
Forget the kid.
Kill her.
Stick her low, listen to her screamkissher…
Watch her bleed to deathdoit…
It took me longer than it should have to realize the voices had stopped screaming.
I backed her up toward a container. Once we were out of sight I tossed her into it. Her back slammed into the cold metal and the caring maid vanished as her eyes ignited. We were back in the jungle, in the apartment slicked with blood.
And I loved it.
I'd been lost ever since the balmy night when she'd destroyed my world. Searching in the dark for something to give it all meaning.
Was it this?
Was it her?
My hand snaked for the knife taped to my back. A sharp tug and it was in my hand. In a flash it was pressed to her throat. She never broke eye contact as she tilted her head back, pressing ivory skin into the well-honed edge until beads of blood welled up around the blade.
And like an engine failing to catch I tried to open her up. I tried to finally end it. Their faces raced through my mind until her hand reached up to cup my cheek. It brought me out of my hallucination as she spoke.
"Paz, Sombra… Está bien…"
I pushed forward, drawing more blood. But my hand wouldn't move.
"Why can't I just fucking kill you?" I growled.
Something almost human flashed across her face and her hand caressed my skin.
"Can you kill a piece of yourself? Sombra, it is the same question I have asked myself since we met in the jungle. You should be dead. So many others are. Men, women, children. I killed. I tortured. I am the monster you seek to destroy. I make no equivocation."
DOL, Right? We kill monsters.
"You murdered my friends for some bullshit cause. Slaughtered men with families," I seethed.
She nodded and I almost did it.
"I did. They were very brave. You should know that. They did not beg or cry. There was no cowardice in them. They were as noble as any I've faced."
The knife slipped from numb fingers to clatter on the ground. I blinked back tears. No matter what I told myself, it would always be right there, lurking underneath the comforting notions.
"Why them?"
She shook her head.
"No se. I do not know. I only accepted the orders."
Like a soldier.
How many of her friends did I kill?
No.
That was different.
Wasn't it?
Yes, it was.
It had to be.
Monsters.
All of them.
My breathing grew heavy.
How long had it been since I'd taken my pills?
Three days.
Stupid move, Sam.
"What the fuck are we doing? All these years…"
She got closer, running a hand through my hair almost lovingly. That old fire in her eyes as my thoughts ran together.
"The ones like us. Abandoned. We move like ghosts until the right moment. You are mi Sombra, my shadow. I would not have it any other way, Samuel."
I stepped back, out of her embrace. She spoke like we were old friends, or something more. It was too much.
Never mind that her words rang true.
"So fucking what?" I snarled, digging for a smoke. But the mask wouldn't go back on all the way.
Not when she was looking at me like I was something to eat.
I flicked my damp lighter with shaking hands, failing until she stepped forward and reached out, steadying me. Her thumb slid over mine, rolling the wheel forward and then back, snapping the flame to life. My breath hitched a little as the fire blazed between us, my mouth ran dry when she inched the flame under the battered Camel until it glowed.
The snap of the lighter closing was almost thunderous.
I stared into her eyes, free of the shades she'd been wearing.
She's so beautiful.
Deadly.
Monstrous.
The last thing they ever saw.
I want her.
Need her.
To end it?
I didn't know anymore and I couldn't make…
IT.
STOP!
Something snapped.
I flicked my smoke and closed the gap between us. Hands snatched at her clothes, roved over her, sliding up her throat. A thumb wiped the blood away. I replaced it seconds later with my lips, letting my tongue drag over the cut.
Kill her.
Even her blood tasted heady, sweet. Like red wine mixed with iron.
Fuck her, mark her, make her yours…
I could barely remember where I was.
Some muffled part of me screamed in agony.
The husky moan she let out sounded like a curse.
Do it now.
And that was that.
I pulled back and kissed those full lips.
The hand at her throat clenched gently.
And the voices fell silent.
Her hands braced on my chest, fisting in my shirt, pulling me in. I backed her up against the cold metal, relishing the feel of her iron-hard body pressed against mine.
Those memories of the bar, every bit that I'd tried so hard to repress, were barely kept at bay under a mountain of antipsychotics and denial. It came roaring out of the shadows and carried me over the edge. Hands roved, lighting fires behind them. Every soft whimper and smack as our lips parted and we dove back in filled my senses.
Finally, we broke apart. I backed away, almost in a panic.
But it wasn't as strong as it should've been…
She looked almost… submissive. Her hair was a mess. Her lips were full and a little swollen from our impromptu makeout session. She gazed at me with her violet eyes.
I was shaking like a leaf as we held eye contact until a salty breeze brought a sting that forced me to look away.
"I do not think this will end as it began."
Her words sliced right into my soul.
She grabbed my hand and pressed it to her chest.
Her heart was pounding, wild and out of control. Completely at odds with the collected expression on her face.
"You are not the only one fighting, Sombra."
The warmth seeping into my hand pierced the veil, shattered it.
"How long?" I ground out, not wanting an answer, not wanting to hear the truth, but needing it with everything I had.
Her gaze never wavered.
"Since the jungle."
My heart almost beat its way out of my chest.
"Still?"
"Yes.… And it has only gotten stronger." Came the whispered reply.
Ryan smiled at me over her shoulder, waving a little.
I wrenched my gaze away from him and dug in my pocket. I pulled the small bottle free almost desperately, popping the lid…
And spilled them all over the dock.
"Fuck." I muttered, dropping to my knees, shaking and breaking down, my vision was blurring.
I was on the verge of losing it entirely.
Because she cared for me too.
And nothing showed me just how much like when she knelt down and scooped two of my pills off the slick ground and held them out to me. I snatched them from her and chewed them up in a flash. She surged forward and pulled me into her arms, my world tilted as we collapsed against the container.
"One more sin I must atone for. To have destroyed something so beautiful."
I barely heard her as I shut my eyes tight against the roaring hallucinations. Hands held me close, stroking my hair as I rode out the screaming horror threatening to finally take me.
My breathing finally slowed down, the roaring stopped.
I found my voice, ragged and almost painful.
"You're going back, aren't you?"
She nodded.
"I have given this life up. I made… promises. Promises that I intend to keep."
I slowly opened my eyes, my head was pounding and the light burned through me. I tried to speak when she cut across me.
"Do you think… in another life… we could have been more?"
More? More than this?
She didn't wait for my answer.
"Instead," she whispered. "We are an Asesina and a soldado de Fuerzas Especiales."
"Ex," I sighed, pushing myself up and out of her embrace. "A washed-up, barely sane, ex-special forces soldier. That's it, that's all."
She reached over and gently tugged at my sleeve, revealing the arrowhead on my wrist.
"I think you still hunt monsters, are disgusted by evil, and seek to right wrongs. I do not believe there is much 'ex' about you, Sombra. No matter what you might believe or how far you may have fallen. I think you are very much that same man of honor."
"Roberta?" The kid called from somewhere.
"Goodbye, con dios…amor cito… "
My mouth fell open, but before I could come up with a response, she pushed off the container and in a measured, military gait, disappeared around the corner. A few moments later, the rumble of the boat's engine signaled her waltzing out of my life for the fourth time.
I shifted and something fell to the ground, a small piece of weathered paper. I reached for it with shaking hands, trying to burn her last words into my brain as SUVs roared up.
Abrego.
I took a breath and opened the note.
Catia Del Mar. Find me, Sombra.
I tore the note to shreds, letting the pieces scatter to the wind.
"SAMUEL!"
Memo?
"Over here!" I called out, taking a beat to steady myself before I slammed my face into the container, splitting my eyebrow open.
Had to sell it. Had to make it look good so I could get out of here.
I had places to be.
You all waited patiently, thank you. Life got in the way, but I plan on getting back to some semblance of a release schedule. Appreciate you all for hanging in there. As always, R&R, I'd love to hear what you think.
Someone suggested that I include a glossary of all my acronyms.
USASOC- US Army Special Operations Command
OGA- Other Government Agency, a polite name for the CIA.