Page 2 of Shephard

There were also enough dangerous monsters in the world I could work until in my seventies if my body and mind cooperated. Job security in picking off unwanted monsters. I almost laughed and took another pull of my beer. A luxury. Alcohol. Just like decent food.

It wasn’t a surprise my communications unit buzzed, indicating I was getting a call from my handler. I never interacted with anyone but Russ, a man I’d never met and likely never would. The organization I worked for was private and very secure.

The members classified.

I took a deep breath and headed for the device, answering with the code given to me to memorize on day one as required.

In turn, he recited his.

“Confirmation accepted. How you doing, buddy? Home safely?”

I snorted. “Yeah, after almost getting shot three times.”

“Hey. You survived.”

There was a different hitch in his voice that I didn’t like. “A mission?”

“Not yet. Cutbacks, you know. But I need to tell you something.”

“What do you mean cutbacks?” My ass. What the fuck was the man hiding?

His hesitation meant I wasn’t being prepped for a mission. Just the opposite. “Look. There was an issue with the last mission.”

“What do you mean an issue? The fucker live?”

“Not exactly.”

I took another pull on my beer as he lowered his voice, his tone more drone-like than I was used to. There was an instant flashback to the moment and the single shot taken. And in those next few seconds, it was as if I was hit by a wall.

Or worse.

I’d become the monster.

CHAPTER 1

Four years later

Shephard

“You should consider yourself a hero, son.”

I stared at the old man. I knew he meant well, but I just didn’t give a shit. “Not today.”

Or any fucking day for that matter.

He had no clue what I’d done, no understanding that I’d lost all sense of humanity. He was a retired captain who believed all military men were heroes. I knew better.

The two lines were something I purposely kept in the forefront of my brain, a reminder that my life and every decision made had been nothing but a shitstorm.

Just like the heavy rain pelting the windshield of my truck. Even for me, the darkness and fog had become oppressive and I was used to living my life in the dark. Sighing, I rubbed my fingersacross my beard, checking the GPS quickly. I still had a hundred miles to go and the last thing I wanted to do was to arrive at my parents’ house soaking wet.

That wouldn’t matter to my father. He’d still grill me about why I’d become a useless asshole. They’d become his favorite words to use as of late.

He had no understanding of the life I’d led and assumed the worst. Meanwhile, I was worth billions. It didn’t matter much to me, but with enough money you could purchase anything at any time. I’d found that out the hard way. Now I just wanted to spend my retirement years very much alone. Sure, I was still young enough to start another career given I was in my early forties. But as my father would say, I couldn’t handle the concept of dealing with people because I was such an insolent asshole.

True. So what?

“You were one hard motherfucker to find.”

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