Page 2 of Silk Shadow

"Yeah, I know what you said. It's just unlike you, that's all. Are you bored or something?"

Viper stared into his coffee, still gently swirling from where he'd stirred it. A long moment passed where he said nothing at all. When he finally spoke, his voice was a hoarse whisper. "I'm so freakin' bored, I'm thinking about putting a bullet through my head."

"Jesus, man. Why don't you get help?"

"Hey, don't panic. I'm not suicidal, not really. I just don't know what to do with myself. I thought about getting a job, but I'm not qualified for anything, except maybe working on the oil rigs up in Alaska. I don't want to be a fucking security guard at a shopping mall. This not knowing what to do is killing me." He ground his jaw and clutched his mug so hard he thought it might break.

"That's why I'm here," Blade said.

Viper glanced up.

"I've got a job for you."

He frowned. "Where?"

"Where I work, at Blackthorn Security."

"You work for them?" Everyone on the private security circuit knew about Blackthorn Security. Ex-Special Ops guys on off-the-book assignments for the U.S. government, as well as some private clients. Most of the time, they were talked about in hushed tones with a degree of reverence usually reserved for legends in the field.

"Yeah, I'm the Ops Manager. I started the company with Pat Burke after I got back from Afghanistan. I was in a dark place, and he came to me with his idea, and we took it from there."

Viper stared at him. "I had no friggin’ idea, man."

"Not many people do."

"So, what does the esteemed Blackthorn Security want with me?"

"We have a job that requires your particular skill set, and we're pretty swamped at the moment. Business is booming and we’re still recruiting operatives. There's a lot of bad crap going down in the world."

Viper scoffed. Blade didn't have to tell him that. He'd been involved in more than his fair share of it over the last decade.

"You've done personal protection work before, haven't you? I seem to remember you guarding those oil engineers out in Iraq a couple of years back."

"Yeah, although that was a sideline. A special favor for the Navy." He shrugged. “You know my skillset is somewhat different.”

"I know." Blade gave a slow grin. "That’s what makes you perfect for this job. We've got a client who needs close protection around the clock. She's a very important client, a personal friend of Pat's, and she's been getting death threats."

"Who is it?"

"Doesn’t matter. It's a job. We could really use your help on this one, man. If all goes well, we'll sign you on full-time. Pension plan, dental, the works. We have ops all over the world. It's a great opportunity."

Viper hadn't had to think about it for long.

After Blade had left, he'd showered, gone to the nearest walk-in clinic and got three stitches in his head, then called Blade back and accepted.

CHAPTER 2

His stitches had been removed yesterday, and while his scar was still red and ugly, it was healing fast and was partially covered by his hairline.

"Wait here," the receptionist told him and picked up the phone. "Your nine o'clock's arrived, sir."

She smiled at Viper and stood up. "Follow me, Mr. Morgan."

They walked through a set of thick, glass security doors and down a short corridor. His shiny shoes sank into the plush carpeting as he gazed out of large, spotless windows on the right-hand side that overlooked a busy street. In the distance, the imposing structure of Fort Bragg loomed, a reminder of their roots and the disciplined precision that underpinned their operations.

The receptionist knocked on a door, then opened it without waiting for a reply. Shooting him a professional smile, she said, "Mr. Burke will see you now."

Viper took a deep breath. It stilled his nerves, not that he really had any. Calm, control, stillness—the traits of a sharpshooter. He’d learned years ago how to silence his mind, vanquish his nerves, wait patiently for the shot. He used the same technique now, as he nodded his thanks, then when he was ready, went inside.

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