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I gnashed my teeth and continued the trek up the mountain, disturbing the thick underbrush as I went. Between trees, around boulders, over logs—until I spotted a third note.
Born in London but spent your school years in DC. Moved back to London after your dad died, and rather than continuing your studies, you enlisted. At 22, you became an SAS operator. The next time you appear in any records, you’re on a training mission with the US Green Berets. You’re under contract as a civilian consultant, but we know there’s nothing civilian about you, Emerson George Payne.
My mind raced to find clues in the information, and I picked up the pace. With a trained eye, you could get my stats by looking at me. I wasn’t precisely 220 pounds, but I’d been thereabouts throughout my adult life. They’d nicknamed me Big Yankee in the Army—not very creative—because of my height and my American upbringing. Whoever this was used a language—and had access to certain intel—that made me think he himself was military.
I had no reason to believe it was a woman.
Outside my work, I only socialized with a small group of people. We went to an underground BDSM club sometimes, and they sure as fuck didn’t know any of this about me.
I estimated I had maybe half a klick left to my cabin when I spotted yet another message. I jogged over to the tree and grabbed the note, and the first thing I saw was a doodling of two arrows crossing. The insignia of the US Army Special Forces.
I remember a story you told us once. You were in Iraq when the bombs dropped in ’91. Over the course of 100 hours, we showed the world our technological prowess, from the GPS-guided missiles to the F-117 stealth fighter, and yet, all you talked about were the dogs that barked on the streets of Baghdad right before the bombs started falling. Do you hear any dogs barking now, Emerson George Payne?
This punk was toying with me. I’d told that story countless times. But all right, at least we could narrow things down further. This guy was likely a Green Beret, which meant he was highly trained and skilled. Had I pissed such blokes off? Damn right. They brought me in for my perspective, whether I stayed a week, a month, or just over a day, and I made their lives a living hell.
If I met one hundred of them in a year, seventy-five hated my guts.
I started running through the woods.
Someone was holding a grudge, which made shit more unpredictable. Because I hadn’t gone in as a consultant in the last twelve months. I didn’t get involved in official military business anymore. Being a private contractor took up all my time.
I sucked in a breath and jumped over a fallen tree, and then I could see smoke in the distance. A familiar sight from hundreds of hikes in the area. The smoke was coming from the chimney of my cabin. Someone was there, and they didn’t mind my knowing that fact.
At least he didn’t wanna kill me. He would’ve done it already.
I reached the end of the dirt road and found a big tree I could stay semi-hidden behind. From there, I could see most of my property. I had a neglected orchard on the other side of the cabin. And an outhouse. Otherwise, this was it. The cabin was right on the lake, with the wraparound porch extending past the water’s edge. A one-story log cabin with the kitchen and living room area forming an L around the bedroom. The back of the cabin had two windows River and Reese could use to enter—
Movement caught my eye, and I watched a man trail along the porch, coming from around the bend, and he was cutting something—an apple. I zeroed in on his face as he lifted an apple wedge onto the blade and brought it to his mouth.
I knew him from somewhere, definitely. He fit the bill of the hundreds of soldiers I’d encountered over the years. Midtwenties, fit. Average height. Swimmer’s build. Dressed in Army greens and a black tee. Boots. Maybe he wasn’t currently active—and hadn’t been in a while? He’d let his dirty-blond hair grow out.
I narrowed my eyes. I remembered him. Fuck me, it couldn’t be. He’d given me a daily headache with his temper—and it’d frustrated me because he’d been able to reel it in when it mattered. He knew just when to get into trouble without taking heat for it. Pub fights, trash talk, even petty theft. He’d performed so damn well that his superiors had looked the other way.
He hadn’t merely been the top-of-his-class type of candidate. He’d pushed the envelope throughout his assessment and selection. He was a reluctant leader who roared at his fellow candidates to go further. He left no man behind—but he could be a goddamn dick before and after.
I’d read so much about this boy, and I could admit I’d…fixated a bit on him.
Under different circumstances, I would’ve been anything but professional.
He had a killer smile and dimples to go with it. Giant ego—but well-earned. Fluent in four languages, had already seen more of the world than most of his peers, and he was easily the best soldier his age I’d come across, excelling in everything they threw at him. Direct action, counterinsurgency, special recon, unconventional warfare… He’d made it through my resistance-to-interrogation training without a moment’s thought of surrender, despite his enraged outbursts.
He’d also been murderous when I’d put them through the SAS Endurance and I’d finished before him.
He wasn’t all skills and perfection, though. Far from it. He was his own worst enemy, and…I was starting to suspect that was why he was here. Trouble had caught up to him, hadn’t it?
“There’s no reason to hide from me, Payne.”
My mouth twitched. Still sharp as a tack. Always on high alert without looking the part. He sat down on the wide log rails that framed the porch, ballsy enough to keep his back to me.
“You don’t have to worry—I’m not gonna kill you,” he said.
Cocky little son of a bitch. Some things never changed.
I stepped out of the woods and adjusted my gun at the base of my spine. Now it was no longer about possibly having to use it and all about not wanting him to see it. He’d find a way to mock me for it. That was his way.
As I headed up the porch steps, he pointed his blade at the kitchen window.
“I don’t know if it’s Twin One or Twin Two, but I can see their shadow over the stove.”
