CHAPTER 1
Saint
“Another round,” Cage yells to the waitress as she passes by our table.
“No, no, no,” Dozer groans, his head hanging low, pounding his fist on the table. “I’m done.”
“You can’t be done,” I laugh, clapping my hand on his shoulder and grinning at Cage who sits on the other side. “This is a rite of passage. Tradition. You’re a newbie. It’s mandatory to get drunk as part of the welcoming process.”
“Yeah?” Dozer asks, his dark eyes narrowing. “Then how come Jimmy and Malik aren’t getting drunk? They’re as new as I am.”
Jimmy Tate sits beside his wife, Anna, who is the only one of us not drinking tonight. He has his arm around her shoulder, whispering something in her ear that has her eyes sparkling. Jimmy joined Jameson about a month ago, coming straight out of an enlistment as an Army Ranger. It was a good move for them as Anna’s pregnant with their first child. She’s from western Pennsylvania originally, and she wanted to be closer to her family.
Malik Fournier sits next to Anna with Cruce on the other side. He’s talking with animated hands, telling a story to Cruce and Barrett. Jameson hired Malik a while back, but he’d only recently started. He’s a former Marine, like I am. So far, his claim to fame is that two of his brothers play professional hockey for the Carolina Cold Fury.
I look back to Dozer. “Malik and Jimmy are as new, but since they’re leaving tomorrow on a highly classified, incredibly dangerous mission, it’s probably best they’re not puking their guts up.”
Dozer nods, giving me a dazzling grin. “Fair enough. And since I am a good and loyal teammate, I’ll drink their shots.”
“That’s my boy,” Cage whoops, slapping Dozer on the back. “He’s not a quitter.”
Laughing, I take a sip of my beer. This feels good… being among my teammates for an evening out to celebrate new friends and say farewell to others. Malik and Jimmy are headed out tomorrow, along with Merritt Gables, Tank Richardson, and Sal Mezzina from the Vegas office.
I wasn’t blowing smoke up Dozer’s ass either. It’s a black-op mission. Sometimes, we are hired by our government, and the missions can be dangerous. While these men are fairly new in my life and we’re just getting to know each other, we’re now brothers of sorts, so I feel a modicum of worry for them. It’s not so secretive we haven’t been filled in on the details, but it’s delicate enough it doesn’t go any further than our company.
Jameson will work in conjunction with an international rescue team, which will go in to try to recover a few relief workers taken hostage in Syria. Our guys will work with some off-the-books teams from the United Kingdom and Australia.
I don’t pretend to understand the internal dynamics of our government, but it was somewhat of a surprise when I accepted the job with Jameson Force Security to learn we’re often hired to perform military operations instead of sending in the actual military. Something to do with budgetary constraints and political ramifications, but in essence… we’re often sent in when it’s not affordable for the military defense budget to be tapped or our government cannot be associated with a certain type of mission.
Regardless, our guys will be dropped in a hotbed of hostility to rescue hostages, despite our country’s clear policy of “we don’t negotiate with terrorists or hostage-takers”. It makes me uneasy and worried for my friends.
“Saint,” Malik calls, breaking into my thoughts. “Is it true?”
“Is what true?” I ask. This is the first opportunity we’ve had to go out with Malik and Jimmy since they joined a few weeks ago. We’d been a bit sidetracked with the Cruce and Barrett situation—saving Barrett from a maniac who was trying to kidnap her.
Malik leans forward, placing his arms on the table. His expression is one of extreme interest and excitement. “Cruce says you used to be a world-class thief before joining Jameson.”
Everyone goes silent, all eyes on me. We’re a new team, and we’re still figuring each other out. Kynan hasn’t told anyone my background, but I’m not embarrassed by it. However, Cruce knows because I filled him in one night after too many beers.
Chuckling, I nod—affirming the rumor he’d heard. “And before that, I was in the Marine Corps, same as you.”
Malik whistles low in appreciation. “No, shit? Man, that is way too cool. I bet you have some amazing stories.”
“Most would land me in prison,” I say slyly. “Which is why I’ll never share them.”
“I get it,” Malik replies, holding his hands up.
The waitress appears with a tray loaded with shots of tequila, lime wedges, and a saltshaker. As she unloads everything, Cage points at me. “Give that man the bill. He’s apparently loaded.”
Oh, such a young pup who doesn’t have a clue as to the reasons people do horrible things.
Yes… I spent many years stealing. High-end robberies for insanely expensive items and I traveled the world doing it.
It’s wrong. It’s against the law, unethical, and even against my own moral codes.
But I had my reasons, and I make no apologies. Besides, I paid the ultimate price for my time as a thief… and I’m not talking about the time I spent in prison.
Although I did go to jail for my crimes, it was nothing compared to what I lost.
Shaking my head, I pull my wallet out and hand the waitress a hundred-dollar bill, telling her to keep the change.
Then I tell Cage, “I gave away a good chunk of the money I made, but still—I did all right for myself.”
“You fucking gave it away?” Jimmy appears astonished. “Like a modern-day Robin Hood?”
I don’t answer at first, not minding all the eyes pinned on me. I’ve suddenly become the most interesting man in the world to my new friends. Picking up the saltshaker, I lick the area under my thumb before sprinkling salt there.
After I pass the shaker to Barrett, who sits to my right, she mimics my actions and hands it to the next person. I hoist my shot of tequila up while everyone readies their own shots. “I’m no Robin Hood, who was noble to a fault. As a thief, I was selfish. My work suited my own needs. But yeah… I gave most of it away.”
“But why?” Malik asks, and I cut my eyes to Cruce. Besides Kynan, he’s the only one who knows my entire story.
His expression reassures me that no one at this table would judge me for my past.
But I don’t feel like getting into it tonight. Not at a table full of near drunks. I’m sure I’ll share one day—maybe in a more intimate setting. One on one, probably.
If people are genuinely interested.
Tonight, though, it will be my secret.
I scan the long bar behind Cruce, crowded with Pittsburgh’s movers and shakers. Three months ago, Kynan opened a new headquarters for Jameson Force Security here in Pittsburgh. This bar isn’t anywhere near our office building, which he’d placed squarely in the worst section of town to keep people away. We’re in an upscale bar with established professionals, many in the banking or medical industry, which has replaced steel as the city’s best-known commodity. Young millennials celebrate the end of a workday by ignoring each other and concentrating on their phones.