Page 4 of Coming In Hot
My eyes narrow to slits. I’d like to melt the fucking plastic… then he won’t have a seat in this circle when he returns—whenever the fuck that is.
“Jax,” Riggs calls. The former combat medic turned physical therapist is doing his best to keep the meeting on track.
“What?” I snap irritably.
“I asked if you’d like to share.”
“No.” I’d rather sit here and choke on my hatred.
Riggs sighs. “If that’s all, then I’d like to leave you with a quote to chew over. Holding onto a grudge is like swallowing poison and hoping the other person dies. You’re doing more damage to yourself than the person you’re angry with.”
I guess that was meant for me.Smooth, Riggs. I turn my glare from the empty chair to him. “Wow, that’s deep. Thanks for enlightening me.”
Several of the guys around the circle are staring at me with judgmental or pitying looks, shaking their heads. They don’t get it. They think Pharo’s some deeply misunderstood guy who wrongly became the target of my scorn. He comes across as a good guy, mysterious, enigmatic, noble… but nothing could be further from the truth.
The truth is, Pharo Kendrix is a rotten, lying, irresponsible, conceited, reckless piece of shit.
He’s got everyone fooled—except me. I can see right through him, which isn’t tough since he’s shallow as fuck.
As the meeting winds down, the usual shift in energy fills the room—less tense, more relaxed. The buzz of conversation fills the space as the guys stand up from their chairs, stretching out the kinks from sitting too long, and pack away their knitting supplies.
“So, who's up for lunch?” Brandt asks, a grin on his face as he stacks his chair away.
I already know they’ll end up at the tavern for wings. Why they have to discuss it every fucking time, like somebody’s going to introduce a new idea, is beyond me.
“Same spot as last time?” Nash asks.
“Hey, Jax,” West calls, “you coming with?”
“Nah, I’m good. I’ve got plans.”
West appears skeptical, but shrugs it off. “You sure you’re okay?”
“One hundred percent.”
He still doesn’t seem convinced. “Well, I’ll save you a seat just in case you change your mind.”
* * *
Taking a seat in front of Cerberus, the three screens come to life, casting a blue glow over my face. Just like the three-headed ancient mythical creature who guarded the underworld, my monitors represent transformation, power, and the ability to overcome obstacles.
My disability pension covers the basics, but it’s the other work—the work I do in the shadows—that pads my nest egg. Information is power, and I’ve become a master at collecting it. Names, addresses, phone numbers—anything someone needs, I can find it, track it, and compile it.
People don’t ask how I do it, and I don’t offer up details. They don’t need to know the methods, the sources, or the risks I take to get the intel they crave. All that matters is that I get results. Financial records, property deeds, background checks—you name it. The price is steep, but there’s always someone willing to pay for the kind of dirt that can change the course of their world.
I should be working on an assignment for my latest client, but instead, I’m up to the usual… gathering information on Pharo, so I can bust his ass wide-open.
So far, I haven’t found shit, except for his known address here in Black Mountain. He has a mother in a nursing home in Asheville and a sister in the Navy. Other than that, I can’t find a lick of info on him. I thought maybe he was hiding a secret family in another town, which would explain his frequent disappearances, but if he is, I haven’t found them… Yet.
I’m starting to think there’s a more nefarious reason for his absences. Is Pharo involved in something dark? Organized crime? Special ops? It’s a stretch, but it wouldn’t surprise me. If anyone is cut out for that kind of life, it’s Pharo. When I was under his command in the Army, he proved himself a capable leader. Quick thinking under pressure, and the ability to command respect and provide direction for an entire unit. He was an ace navigator and an expert marksman. As my commanding officer, Pharo was someone I admired… until he wasn’t.
The tailspin I fell into after his betrayal wiped out my ability to remain effective as a soldier. I was strapped to a desk like a toddler in time out until the end of my contract, where I was honorably discharged with a diagnosis on my record that labeled me a head case, and still follows me to this day, effectively barring me from decent employment.
Thanks a fucking bunch, Pharo.
Just one more thing on a long list of things he took from me, including my best friend.
Another nail in his coffin. There are so many, he should be six feet under by now. But in complete defiance of all that is fair and just in this world, Pharo is still kicking, and Jordan is lying in Pharo’s grave.
