Yesterday’s Betrayal, Today’s Scars

Chapter 1 - MISSING HIM

Star

Sitting here under the star-filled desert sky with the cool night air blowing has goosebumps rising on my arms. But it feels good to feel something, anything, at night. Nights are when I miss him the most. When it’s quiet, my mind drifts to the one person who was my everything. My father.

I look to the north. That’s where we buried him after his death—only a large cactus marking his grave. J.P. Montgomery, a former special-ops turned mercenary. “This land is the only true home I've ever known. Bury Me here.” I can still hear his last request in my head.

He met my mother in Sicily when he was 35 and she was 24. He said he knew instantly she was his other half and couldn’t live without her. Chasing her for six months paid off, and they were married. Mom wanted him home more, though.

He retired officially but unofficially turned mercenary. They paid well, and he tried only to be gone five or six days a month. He bought this land an hour outside of Las Vegas—building a two-bedroom home complete with bunker, tunnels, and unbelievable security. A military off-grid man if I ever heard of one. Ha ha ha.

I take another sip of my drink, letting the smooth single malt slide down my throat with the familiar burn. I glance back at the house, thinking how thankful I am to have the Twins in my life. At least I have family, even if they aren't blood.

It has been three years since we buried Dad. I'm 22 now and still think of him every day. I bulldozed the little house he built after he passed. In its place is a 6-bedroom steel and bulletproof glass fortress. The land, bunker, and tunnels are what he loved. So they remain and will forever be a part of him and me.

I still keep the family business going. However, I am particular about the jobs I accept—theft in large corporations that want to keep it quiet. We track the money and the thief and make it right again. A drug lord's shipment goes missing. We locate the goods and the thief. You get the idea.

However, our most unique and lucrative service is cleanup. One phone call, and you can drop off your problem at our facility. It disappears forever without a trace.

The back door opens and out steps Alice—long blonde hair with red and purple streaks pulled up in a high ponytail. A black leather corset pushes her assets up, black leather shorts, fishnet stockings, and knee-high boots.

“Are you heading to the club?” I ask her with a smile, already knowing the answer. “You know it,” she replies with her typical sassy attitude. “I put the information on your desk you asked for. Also, don’t forget the Hummer is ready to be picked up from the custom shop tomorrow. Do you need me to drop you off?” she asks. “Yes, you know I hate it when we're down a vehicle,” I reply. “You're just like your dad, always preparing for the worst.” “Being unprepared gets us killed. I will never let that happen.” I State with finality.

“You should get changed and come to the club with me. Watching someone get handcuffed and flogged might cheer you up,” she says with a playful smirk and gleam in her eye. I laugh at her. “If I want to get my juices flowing, I'll finish the romance novel I've been reading.” I retort with raised eyebrows. “You and your word porn,” she mumbles, walking away.

I stand, knowing I need to look at that file before tomorrow. With one last look over my shoulder. I whisper into the night, “I miss you, Dad.”

Going into my office, I sit behind the desk, picking up the folder. Hector Hernandez, age 27, resides in Mexico and took over the cartel three years ago when his father retired. No kids, no wife or mistress. He prefers one-night stands, which he picks up from his two clubs often. His primary source of income is drugs and guns. Five hidden warehouses are listed. Good, I like knowledge and leverage if I ever need it.

A local runner claims a shipment of ammo and guns was stolen, but Hector thinks something's fishy. The runner went missing shortly after their last communication.

The job is to locate the runner and shipment. Deliver the runner unharmed to Hector and provide the shipment address if located. Alice has located both. Her hacking and tracking skills are scary sometimes. Well, at least this guy is state-side. Brownsville, Texas, held up in a crappy motel hiding.

I pull a sticky note off the pad, sticking it to the top of the folder. Notify Hector we accept the job. However, we will not deliver. His packages will be for pick up only. When they are ready, we will contact him.

I grab the file and the remainder of my drink, ready for this day to be over. I go to Alice’s dungeon, as she calls it, placing the file on her desk. Then, head to my room.

Tossing back the last of my drink, I strip and take a long, hot shower, washing my day away. Drying off, I walk back into my room, grabbing the remote to turn the TV to channel four, which is the security monitor.

With a 20-foot fence around the property, pressure plates underground around the perimeter that have alarms, 16 cameras constantly on the swivel, and 8 of those trigger automatic assault riffles, I know we are secure. However, Dad's voice in my head is a constant reminder to watch my back. “Research gets you in, and three escape routes get you out; always watch your six, and tight security lets you sleep at night.”

I grab my phone off the nightstand and plug it in to charge. Turning off the light, I slide into my warm, comfy bed. With a sigh, I look across to the empty side of my Alaskan King and wonder what it would be like to have a partner—someone I could depend on, trust completely, and love. Then I remember the pain of betrayal Dad went through, the loss and devastation we both felt. No, if I never let anyone in, they can't hurt me.

I finally drift off to sleep.