Page 9

"Yeah."

"Grim filled me in. Where you at?"

Ash is our Treasurer and a former cop who knows these roads better than most. He's also a stubborn bastard with a talent for getting under people's skin.

One reason we get along.

"North road. Black sedan. Two men, woman in the back."

"How far?"

"Past Miller's."

"I'm coming from the other side."

"Passenger's armed."

"No shit. Keep 'em in sight."

The buildings thin out.

The sedan picks up speed.

Fuck.

Mountain roads.

Less traffic. Fewer witnesses. Plenty of places to dump a body.

Not happening.

I push the bike harder.

Spent years as an Army sniper. Learned how to sit still for hours, read a man's next move, and put a bullet where it counted.

Patience. Precision. Control.

Three things I've always been damn good at.

The army gave me something else, too.

A place to belong.

Sure as hell never had that growing up.

My old man and my mother were junkies. Half the time, they couldn't remember whether they'd fed me. Always remembered where to get their next fix, though.

By ten, I knew how to cook, clean, and keep the lights on when there was money.

Spent the rest of my childhood figuring out how to stay out of their way.

At eighteen, I enlisted.

Best fucking day of my life.

The army gave me purpose. Men I could trust. Something worth getting out of bed for.

After I got out, private contractors came calling.