Page 1 of The Sniper
CHAPTER ONE
JAYDEN
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My best friend, Liam, is a liar.Either that, or he’s blind and can’t read.
“I got a glimpse of your first assignment.Diplomat.Tiffany someone.Should be easy enough,” Liam had said while sipping his beer last week.The same week he proposed to my sister, Jessie.
She said yes.
No one was surprised.Jessie has been in love with Liam since the day she could walk.As it turns out, he felt the same way.
I don’t know if I believe in soul mates, but I guess there might be something to it.Not that I’m romantic, but coming to grips with my sister and best friend being together took a little adjusting.It’s been four months since I found out.I’m fine with it now, but occasionally I let them sweat purely for the entertainment value.
So when Jessie moved in, I moved out of Liam’s LA home, while simultaneously leaving my boring as fuck corporate job.
Selling air-conditioning units was a far cry from being a sniper in the US Air Force.I guess everyone who suspected I wouldn’t last was right.The problem was, I needed that job.Not because of the money—although that too—but because stepping back into a militaryorparamilitary role wasn’t the right thing to do either.
So here I am, the newest member of Black Hawke Security.
Josh, a Navy SEAL, and Aidan, a US Marine—the two co-founders—had headhunted me for over twelve months after recruiting Liam.He leaped at the chance to work with them, and I understand why—they’re both legends—but I wasn’t ready.
Hell, I don’t think I am now.
The last few months as a Sniper were...let’s just say, becoming difficult.
One mission.
One millisecond.
One explosion.
It changed my life.And all I did was keep my eyes on the target and that’s the fucking problem.That single moment something shifted inside of me, and I can’t explain why.
It wasn’t the first time I’d seen innocents killed because of war, but from that millisecond on, my entire perspective about everything changed.
You don’t get to have an opinion on anything when you wear the uniform and American flag on your arm.You do what you’re trained to do and don’t ask questions.
It’s how we succeed.
It’s how we stay alive.
I get it.
I relied on that mentality, just like every other soldier out there.But that doesn’t mean things are black and fucking white.They aren’t.Anyone who has been in combat knows that.
We all have questions.
We all have doubts.
We just don’t voice them.
And not everyone returns from engaging with the enemy having nightmares, anxiety attacks, and over-the-top reactions to things that most people wouldn’t notice.
PTSD.
I eventually figured it out.
