Chapter 2 - Ghosts From The Past
I threw myself to the floor just as a suppressed gunshot shattered the bedroom window.
The bullet grazed my shoulder and buried itself into the wall.
I rolled behind the heavy oak bedframe and returned fire into the dark hallway.
Two men in tactical gear retreated behind the doorframe.
They moved with the exact precision I had drilled into my own soldiers decades ago.
David screamed and thrashed against his ropes in the center of the room.
I had to make a choice between saving him and saving myself.
I threw a smoke grenade from my tactical belt onto the floor.
Thick gray clouds instantly filled the room, blinding the thermal optics I knew my attackers were wearing.
I lunged forward with my combat knife and slashed through David's ropes.
I grabbed him by the collar and dragged him toward the master bathroom.
Bullets shredded the drywall around us as we tumbled into the marble shower.
David was hyperventilating, clutching his bleeding ribs.
I demanded to know why a black-ops squad was trying to execute an investment banker.
David reached into his torn pocket and pulled out a metal flash drive.
He confessed that his banking firm was a front for laundering money for rogue military contractors.
Emily had found out, and she had stolen the master ledger to protect him.
My blood ran cold as I realized my daughter had stepped into a warzone.
The gunfire suddenly stopped, leaving an eerie silence in the house.
A voice echoed from the bedroom, chilling me to the bone.
The man called out my military rank and asked if I missed the old days.
May you like
I recognized that rough, southern drawl immediately.
It belonged to Sergeant Miller, a man I had personally buried in Afghanistan ten years ago.
