3. Chapter 2
Nathan
N ew guy gets the coffee was the Sheppard you’ll never find her. Texas was one big-ass state. The second biggest in both population and land area.
You don’t know her last name.
It didn’t matter. I couldn’t get her out of my head. If I tried hard enough and wanted to cross more than one ethical boundary, I could find her. But I wasn’t willing to cross those lines. Not anymore.
I gripped the steering wheel as memories of blurring those lines crossed my mind. Being deep undercover required it, and I’d hardened myself to the task for the greater good, but I still carried the guilt.
I’d never killed an innocent, but I’d hurt a few.
I ran my hand through my hair, my thumb feeling the bumpy, rough edge of the scar on my left cheek.
A reminder of the life I’d left behind when I quit Hawken’s Security Company, a black ops company that hired former spec ops guys, like me, to do a hell of a lot more than provide personal protection.
Often off the books, which meant if shit went south, we were on our own.
A chill, that had nothing to do with the A/C blowing in my truck, ran down my spine.
After parking, I took a few minutes to focus on the present and calm my nerves. I released my vice-like grip on the steering wheel and flexed my hands a few times to get the blood flowing again.
Time for the new guy to get the coffee.
I walked into Grannie’s, a cute coffee shop owned by my boss’s wife, John to be specific.
The shop had an eclectic mix of coffee shop and old western saloon decorations like cowboy hats, old-fashioned colored glass bottles and black and white photos.
It stood out from the boring chain ones, and I had a feeling I’d like it.
Soft country music filled the space, as did the smell of rich warm coffee. Glancing around, I saw Jamie’s wife, Emily, two seconds before I heard it.
A sound I hadn’t heard in a year.
A sound I’d dreamed about during my captivity and every day since.
A sound I didn’t think I’d ever hear again.