Silk Shadow (Blackthorn Security #3)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

V iper arrived at Blackthorn Security headquarters in Washington D.C. at precisely 0900 hours. His shirt was crisp and immaculate, his suit, while not from Madison Avenue, was the finest he could afford. His shoes gleamed so brightly that he could see his reflection in them. He wanted to look the part. This was the most important meeting of his career, and he couldn't afford to screw it up.

"Don't worry, Pat's a good guy," Blade had told him during his surprise visit last week. "I served with his son over in Afghanistan."

Viper wasn't so sure. He'd heard that Pat was a hard man to get to know. Stubborn and unflinching when it came to picking and choosing their operations, absolutely incorruptible, and a force to be reckoned with. Rumor had it that he even made the smooth-talking politicians on Capitol Hill quake in their boots. A man to be admired, but it did make him rather formidable. But then, he'd expect nothing less from a former SEAL Commander.

Pat's reputation preceded him. He'd built Blackthorn Security into an organization steeped in secrecy and rumor. His operatives were all ex-military, mostly spec ops, and they got the job done. Their success rate was through the roof, which was a lot more than could be said for most private security companies.

Viper had researched them thoroughly after Blade's visit.

Blade Wilson.

Now there was a blast from the past. He'd never thought he'd see that mountain of a man again, not since the SEAL’s last op in Afghanistan where his entire team bar one had been taken out. After that, Blade had bailed on the military—medical discharge—and the last Viper had heard, he'd gone missing—presumed dead—in the Middle East during an off-the-books assignment.

"I thought you were dead," he'd told him through a God-almighty hangover, when his old acquaintance had appeared at his door a couple of days ago.

Blade had snorted. "Takes more than a few angry Taliban soldiers to put me down. I heard you were out and thought I'd pop over for a cup of joe. You going to invite me in?"

Viper didn't have much choice. Blade was blocking his doorway and didn't look like he was going to move any time soon.

"Sure, why not? I could use one myself."

"Rough night?"

Viper ran a hand through his disheveled hair and winced at the tender spot on the side of his head. He'd literally peeled himself off the couch five minutes ago.

"Nasty graze you got there. How'd it happen?"

"I think someone hit me over the head with a bottle," he complained, feeling it with his finger. "But it's a bit hazy."

Blade studied him. "Bar fight?"

A shrug. "Something like that."

They walked into the kitchen where Viper poured two cups of coffee from a freshly made pot. He didn’t even ask if he wanted cream, just handed it to him black.

No cream in the Middle East. They’d all gotten used to drinking it black.

Viper turned to face his buddy, still confused as to why he was here. "So, you were just passing through the neighborhood and thought you'd look me up?"

"Yeah, and I've got a proposition for you."

Viper sat down a little unsteadily. His head was pounding, but he couldn't decide if it was because of his hangover or the dent in his hairline. "A proposition? What kind of proposition?"

Blade sat opposite him at the kitchen table. "I heard you'd been making a bit of a nuisance of yourself.” He'd always been very direct. Not one to beat around the bush.

"Who told you that? I was helping a damsel in distress. Some guy was laying into her. I just shoved him off." And got a bottle in the head as a screw you.

Blade glanced at the wound that Viper hadn't even bothered to clean up yet. It was still seeping, despite the scab beginning to form. "Something tells me he didn't appreciate it."

Viper winced. "You could say that. The cops didn't appreciate my good will either. Spent half the night in lockup."

Blade sipped his coffee contemplatively.

"What's going on, Viper?" he asked after a pause. "This isn't like you. You’re a SEAL sniper for God’s sake, you take out the enemy from a distance. You don't go around looking for bar fights."

"I told you, I was helping?—"

"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.