The weight of my Glock is awkward in my left hand. Shifting my stance to accommodate the unfamiliar position, I empty the magazine in rapid fire at the target before hitting the switch to bring the paper to me. I take off my hearing protection as it sails through the air. The grouping from the second round of shots on the target is slightly tighter but still not what I’m capable of with my right hand.
Huffing out a heavy breath, I shake out my hand. I need to work on conditioning it more to keep it from getting fatigued so quickly. I swap out the paper for a new one and flip the switch once again, taking it downrange so I can go again. Reloading the magazine from the box of shells, I inhale the gunpowder lingering in the air. The scent soothes me in the same way other people are soothed by the sickly sweet floral scent of flowers, which for me only causes nausea.
Well, nausea and unwelcome memories of what should’ve been twelve, but were only eleven caskets. The ever-present tightness in my chest has me struggling to take a full breath as my skin feels two sizes too small. How and why I’m still standing here today is a question the universe has yet to answer. What possible reason was I spared?
Catching myself as I begin to spiral, I stretch my neck from side to side and pull my head back into what I’m doing at this moment. I breathe in for five counts, hold it for another five, before releasing it to another count of five. Repeating the box breathing technique taught to me by the mandated shrink helps clear my mind.
The shrill ringtone from my phone is the equivalent of nails on a chalkboard. I grab the offending device from my pocket only to silence the damn thing before shoving it back in. There’s no need to check who called because it’s the same person who’s been incessantly calling for the last year. My sister, Terra means well, and I know she only calls because she cares, but I can’t handle much more of her “checking in.”
Putting my earmuffs back on, I shake off the unanswered call along with my other bleak thoughts. Lifting the pistol in my left hand, I steady it with my right. Taking a deep breath, I slowly let it out before gently depressing the trigger seventeen times until the magazine is empty once again.
The target is flying toward me before I hit the switch. I swing to the right to find my boss, Grayson “Gray” Calhoun, standing there, his arms crossed over his chest. I set down my gun and pull off my ear protection as I arch my brow at the interruption. Something must be up for him to be seeking me out.
Instead of responding to my unvoiced question, he grabs the target from the clip. He glances at it before nodding. “Good grouping for shooting with your left. How many rounds are you at this afternoon?”
My shoulder rises and falls. “Haven’t been keeping track.”
His eyes narrow at the empty ammo boxes on the bench. “It looks like too many if you ask me. You’re going to overdo it if you’re not careful.”
I barely refrain from rolling my eyes as I mutter, “I’m fine.”
His scoff makes it clear he doesn’t believe the lie any more than I do, no matter how many times I continue to feed the bullshit to everyone. But he understands better than anyone the necessity of needing to do so. His life hasn’t been any easier than mine.
Not only is he a former Secret Service agent scapegoated after a botched Dallas rally, but he lost the love of his life and is now a widowed single father to a precocious twelve-year-old daughter, Josi. He built Lone Star Security on his late wife’s family ranch with his sister, Mae. The Ranch where we are now is a kick-ass training compound, which resembles a mashup of the infamous 6666 Ranch and the CIA Farm.
I’m lucky to have ended up here with men who understand more than most where I’m coming from.
“I have a potential assignment if you can promise your head’s on straight.”
My pulse speeds up at the mention of getting back to work. I hate downtime. With little to keep me busy, it leaves my mind to focus on things I’d rather forget. An assignment gives me purpose and keeps me from wallowing in the pits of despair, which is where I end up when I’m left to my own devices for too long.
“What’s the job?” I ask casually as I start stripping my weapon for cleaning in an effort not to sound or look too eager.
“Oil company has a geologist coming to do an assessment on a nearby parcel of property. They usually work in pairs, but one isn’t able to come for medical reasons. They want to cover their asses, not having one working alone in an area knownfor smuggling. According to them, it’s a relatively low-risk assignment. The only reason they’re hiring us is because their lawyer is insisting. Seems she’s a real shark, but then you should know.”
My gaze jerks to his. “How do you figure?”
His brow arches. “She’s your sister—or claims to be. Said you wouldn’t answer her calls.”
My eyes fall closed as my muscles tense at the news. I shake my head and mutter, “So that’s why she’s been calling nonstop.”
“There a reason you’re avoiding her calls?”
“Just family stuff. Tired of rehashing the same conversation over and over with the same results. She means well, but I just need a break.”
“Is it going to be a problem for you with this assignment?”
I hesitate before answering. Knowing my sister’s involved does give me pause, but the desire to have something to do and focus on easily wins out over any qualms I may have. I shake my head. “Nah, I’m good.”
His eyes drill into me as if to ascertain the validity of my statement. I fight not to squirm under his study. I swear a decade passes before he nods. “Alright then. I’ll email you the details. I know they’re claiming it’s routine, but you know what that means.”
I nod my confirmation. It means it’ll be anything but, and expecting routine is when you fail. I’ll be doing a full workup before heading out.
Chapter Three
Emerson
Climbing from the confines of my white company SUV, I lift my arms over my head and lean side to side to stretch my cramped muscles. A moan falls from me at the cracking in my back. It’s a good thing I had the foresight to break the ten-hour drive into two days, six yesterday and four today. If I had tried to do it in one, I’d probably be crippled and unable to walk or complete my assessment.
