2
Hunter stood just inside the gym doorway, frowning as he watched at least a dozen big, burly bodyguards working out.
It wasn’t that the sight displeased him; if anything, he should have been enjoying the view of sweat-covered skin and flexing muscles, in a variety of shapes and sizes like a smorgasbord for his eyes and libido. Three months, ten days, and some-odd hours ago he would have been quite happy to have a ringside seat to the display of hunks, but not anymore. Maybe not ever again.
No, he was frowning because he didn’t want to be here. Not that he wanted to be anywhere except back with his unit, to be honest, but life didn’t give a good goddamn that Mark should be the one standing here, and Hunter should be the one taking an eternal dirt nap. Life was a bitch all right, a cold-teated bitch without mercy or conscience.
The psychiatrists told him over and over it wasn’t his fault, which he knew and even accepted on an intellectual level. Shit happens, as the saying went, and Hunter had seen it enough to know it was true. Which meant there was nothing he could have done to alter what occurred and ripping himself up over it was a pointless exercise. Right? Right.
The only problem with accepting something based on logic was it did fuck-all to convince your gut.
Unfortunately, short of checking himself into a nice padded room somewhere so he could check out mentally, the only thing he could do was go on and hope someday something made sense again and that the diamond-hard knot inside of him loosened to where he could feel something other than a fury so deep and cold, it must have originated in the ninth circle of Hell. It was probably what people like Matthew Greer and Cade Thornton sensed within him, like a coiled serpent awaiting its opportunity to strike. Which was why they’d sent him here, and not back into the field.
He wasn’t suicidal. There was a bad joke that had been around for years, about what do you call a suicidal merc? Dead already, of course. It was true, too. Men who were as good at killing as Hunter and his cadre were would be self-destructive for the entire second it took them from decision to action. No fuss, no mess, no big scenes or attention-getting drama, just oblivion between one breath and the next. He’d seen it happen, too, but it wasn’t his way. His way was different. Very different.
“I’m glad you made it.”
Cade Thornton spoke from beside him, and Hunter gave a start of surprise and annoyance. He’d found himself becoming far too absorbed in his own thoughts lately, which was neither good nor professional.
He looked at Cade, whom he’d known for years. Herc had been injured and had mustered out of L&G about five years after Hunter had joined. He hadn’t been part of Herc’s platoon of mercs, but he’d worked with them plenty of times in the field. Nor had he been tempted to leave L&G when Herc started his own company. As far as he knew, there wasn’t much call for people who knew how to blow the shit out of things in the bodyguard business. He and Mark had been called on a time or two to help out in dicey situations — which still seemed to be Daryl “D-Day” Greer’s bread-and-butter — but Hunter’s skills were far more suited to the battlefield than the boardroom. Which was another reason he felt out of place here.
“I didn’t have much choice,” Hunter said, giving a one-shouldered shrug. “Matthew and John won’t approve me for the field until they’re convinced I haven’t hit the wall. Apparently, they don’t trust the shrinks and think you’ve got a direct line to Christ or Professor X to see inside my head.”
Herc raised a brow. “They don’t trust the shrinks because the shrinks don’t often deal with someone who can hide the fact he’s five seconds away from going dinky dau.”
Hunter shrugged again. Herc had used an old military slang term for going crazy, and he knew more than one guy had pulled one over on the shrinks, then gone back out into the field and fragged his entire platoon. “Not my way.”
“You’re a smartass, Hunter, but I’ve seen that busy brain of yours at work, and you and I both know you can probably convince the shrinks of anything.”
Herc was right, but Hunter wasn’t going to admit it. “So the plan is to set me up with a babysitter until you all can be sure I’m not going to throw sand at the other kids.” Hunter said the words flatly, because it wasn’t a question.
To his surprise, Herc put his hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “Not quite. We’re going to set you up with a babysitter untilyouare sure you’re not going to throw sand at the other kids. And here comes your babysitter now.”
Hunter frowned as he noticed someone approaching them. The guy had to be at least a half foot shorter than Hunter, and even if he moved with the grace of a martial artist, he looked like someone’s geeky kid brother. Someone’sreallypretty geeky kid brother, maybe, with those big blue eyes set above high cheekbones and wavy chestnut brown hair, but he looked out of place among all the man-meat in the gym.
“Thisis my babysitter?” Hunter asked, looking the guy up and down in disbelief. “Christ, Herc, you need to throw him back. He’s not finished growing yet.”
The kid widened those big eyes at him. “Gosh! I’m supposed to train you? Gee, Herc, are you sure this is a good idea?”
Herc looked at the kid, his expression grave. “Hmmm… maybe not,” he said. “If Hunter decided to do something rash, you might not be able to stop him.”
Something in Herc’s voice didn’t sound right, but Hunter shrugged. “Probably not. I suppose it’s a good thing I’m not going to do anything rash.”
The kid’s eyes somehow got even bigger as he blinked innocently at Herc. “I don’t know, Herc. Maybe we should spar a little to be sure I’m not getting in over my head.”
A couple of the nearby bodyguards made noises that sounded like stifled laughter, and Hunter noticed more of them seemed interested in the conversation than in their workouts. Probably because they thought he was some stupid boot who couldn’t take on a little squirt. Hunter knew he’d lost weight in the last few months, and he’d let his workout routine slide, but he still had plenty of muscle. “Whatever,” he said, shrugging in disinterest. He didn’t have a damned thing to prove to anyone, not even Herc.
The kid beamed at him and practically bounced up and down. “Great! There’s a free floor mat over here. Go easy on me, okay? You’re so much bigger and buffer than me, and I bruise easy.”
Hunter looked at Herc, who simply raised one eyebrow at him. With a long-suffering sigh, Hunter dropped his gear bag and shrugged out of his jacket, leaving it on top of the bag. He didn’t look at the kid again, just walked over to the mat, turned, and waited. Maybe once this was over, he could get Herc to sign off clearing him to return to L&G where he belonged.
The kid trotted over to the mat and stood a short distance away from Hunter, cocking his head as he watched Hunter with bright-eyed anticipation. Some of the bodyguards gave up any pretense of disinterest and gathered closer to the mat, nudging each other and grinning.
Hunter looked at the kid, feeling nothing. He wasn’t angry. He just didn’t care about this or about much of anything that didn’t lead to a plane ticket east. He waited for the kid to rush him, to dosomething, and finally, he grew bored and took a step in the kid’s direction, intending to push him over and step off the mat.
But he hadn’t even completed his first step when the kidmovedfaster than anyone Hunter had ever seen in his life. His feet were swept out from under him, and as he fell, twisting to the left instinctively to protect the injured right side of his head, the kid was behind him and climbing up his back like some kind of goddamned monkey. Hunter landed hard on his side, and the kid bore him over onto his stomach. Even as Hunter reached back to make a grab for the kid’s hands, strong arms were wrapping around Hunter’s neck in a classic sleeper hold. With the kid kneeling on his back and with his head yanked up and back, he couldn’t get leverage to roll over to dislodge his attacker. He grabbed at the kid’s arms, but they were as tight as iron vises around his neck, and as Hunter struggled, his vision began to gray out as the blood flow to his brain was cut off.
Being held by someone half his size was embarrassing, but it would be even worse to let the kid put him out. With what remained of his strength, Hunter slapped his palm against the mat, indicating his surrender. The kid instantly released him and hopped off his back while the men standing near the mat whistled and applauded. The kid held out his hand, offering to help Hunter up.
