Page 15 of Destroyer
Damn, it feels good to be here.
He needed to get to ALPHA BLACK OPS and update his team, but he wanted to swing by the restaurant first.
BING!
He unearthed his phone from his pocket and read the text from Greystone.
Welcome home! What’s your sched?
Just got back to condo. Need to update you and team. Time?
When you get here. Gabriel flying in from Milan. Lulu called a fam dinner at Carrera and Slash’s
Stopping by restaurant first
Despite the challenges the BLACK OPS team had been facing, his spirits were lifted simply because he was home.
Then, the darkness crept in. The lifeless faces of the Haqazzii terrorists he’d taken out filled his thoughts. They were the latest in a string of bodies he’d left in his wake. Shaking off the evil, he walked into his bedroom. There, he stripped down before heading into the bathroom.
His bloodied shoulder snagged his attention, but he wasn’t concerned. He was in much better shape than the apex predators in Pennsylvania.
He got to live another day.
He turned on the faucet before checking his three-day-old beard and mustache in the mirror. Skipping the shave, he stepped into the shower and watched as the water circling the drain turned pink. Sure, his shoulder stung, but he could handle the physical pain. It was the emotional toll of killing that he struggled with. While he told his brothers it was a job—like any other—it was not. Being an assassin left scars on the inside. Scars that shredded his soul.
After showering, he toweled off. His wound had clotted, he’d skip getting stitches, just let it heal. He wished he could let his mind heal, but he couldn’t stop running through different scenarios, over again and again.
Past situations, future complications.
Ever since graduating college, he’d been watching his six, his brothers’ six, and cousin’s too.
You got this. Shake it off.
He dried his shoulder-length hair, pulled it into a man-bun, and dressed in a crisp black dress shirt and black pants. Pulling on Santini Original garments reminded him that there was “normal” to help balance the mayhem. He attached his front-facing holster at his waist, slid his Glock inside.
He spent more time with his gun than he did with a woman.
I gotta change things up.
Sydney Austin flashed in his mind… for, like, the thousandth time.
She’s not interested. Let it go.
But he could not. Not until he saw her, one more time.
He left his condo, rode down with a few neighbors. In the underground garage, he climbed into his ALPHA-assigned SUV, drove to the family restaurant. Once inside, he turned off the alarm, flicked on the lights, and breathed deep. This was more his home than his condo. This was the result of total focus and effort. And he’d loved every damn minute of it.
Still love it here.
He checked the liquor supply. All good. He did a spot check on the silverware. Clean and orderly. He entered the kitchen. Spotless. The refrigerator was organized, everything labeled and dated.
For the first time in a long while, joy filled him.
As he made his way through the main dining room toward his office, the ladies’ room door opened, and Tara—his newly-promoted floor manager—came flying out wearing nothing but an extra-long T-shirt. Her sleepy face startled.
“Aiiiiieeeee!” She ran into the Manager’s office and slammed the door.
Teddy stood there in disbelief for a few seconds before he followed after her.
