by Matt Rogers
But his right arm worked just fine.
An eight-ounce boxing glove had been pulled over Slater’s right fist, covered in sweat droplets that had run down his arm. The man was shirtless, wearing simple athletic shorts, and as Lars watched he hammered a relentless stream of uppercuts into the heavy bag, shouting with every impact. Sweat sprayed off his frame with every blow. There wasn’t an ounce of body fat on him, even though he’d been bed ridden for close to a month. Lars could see the spark in his eyes, the feverish rage spurring him onward. He counted twenty-eight consecutive uppercuts before Slater dropped his one-armed attack and took a deep breath, allowing the perspiration to cascade off him in droves.
‘You sleeping?’ Lars said, leaning against one post of the nearby boxing ring.
Slater turned, running the glove over his forehead to wipe away the sweat. ‘Not really. I just see her crumpling. Over and over again.’
Lars nodded.
The woman, Brooke Davies, had been thirty-two years old. The bullet had struck her in the centre of her chest and pulverised her internal organs. There had been no chance of survival. Her daughter had seen everything, and was being monitored for signs of post-traumatic stress disorder. She was back home with her father.
‘You did unbelievable work, Will,’ Lars said. ‘You can’t forget that.’
Slater stood motionless for a long beat, then turned and hammered another uppercut into the heavy bag. The sound of the leather glove hitting the material sent a gunshot-like crack through the empty basement.
‘I did work,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t unbelievable. She died.’
‘You saved seven people.’
‘I should have saved eight.’
‘Slater…’
‘When am I back in the field?’
‘Uh…’
‘Surely you have something lined up?’
‘Your arm, Will.’
‘It’s healing. As soon as it’s ready, I want something.’
‘An operation?’
‘The worst shit you’ve got.’
‘We have a lot of bad stuff. That’s sort of the nature of this job.’
‘I don’t care where you send me. But get me moving again.’
‘You want to make things right?’
‘Of course. Only way I can do that is to succeed next time.’
‘You succeeded this time.’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘Four kids who got to go home to their families will tell you otherwise.’
‘Brooke’s not here to tell me anything.’
‘What happened in that construction site, Slater?’
Lars was desperate for genuine information. Slater had been frustratingly quiet about the entire ordeal, withdrawing into himself as soon as he was able to recover in private. There had been the painstaking process of withdrawing him from the public hospital system after the authorities had pried him out of the stairwell one month earlier, but as soon as Black Force had silenced anyone in the know and calmly informed the necessary parties that Slater no longer existed, he’d been free to recover in privacy.
And he hadn’t felt like talking much at all.
Slater twisted on the spot again, revealing glistening muscles trailing up his abdomen, and smashed another punch into the heavy bag with lethal ferocity. If he’d been targeting a human being, he might have killed them from the blunt force trauma alone.
‘I hesitated,’ he said.
‘Froze on the spot?’
‘Sort of. You wouldn’t have been able to tell. But I did.’
‘And you think you could’ve saved Brooke otherwise?’
‘I know I could’ve.’
‘So what happens now? How’s your headspace?’
Three more punches detonated off the leather bag.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
‘Headspace is fine,’ Slater muttered. ‘But get me back out there as soon as you can.’
‘To do what?’
Slater stared at Lars across the room, a bright glint in his eyes. ‘Not hesitate.’
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Lars mumbled. ‘Take it easy, hey? You don’t want to disrupt the healing process of that arm.’
‘I am taking it easy,’ Slater said, and fired off two punches into the bag, veins pumping and sweat flowing.
Lars nodded, and turned his back on Will Slater.
Making his way up to the downtown Chicago street, he found himself intensely curious to see what Slater did next. Something told him he had his hands on one of the most notable raw talents the military had ever seen. Not for his physical gifts, or his mental prowess — there were dozens of prodigies that had come through the ranks of the Special Forces over the years.
But when Lars found someone with that type of relentless mindset, he didn’t take it lightly.
A soft voice in the back of his head told him Will Slater would have a career for the ages.
MORE BLACK FORCE SHORTS COMING VERY SOON…
Follow Slater’s post-military career with the following action-thrillers:
THE WILL SLATER SERIES
Wolf (Book 1)
Lion (Book 2)
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Books by Matt Rogers
THE JASON KING SERIES
Isolated (Book 1)
Imprisoned (Book 2)
Reloaded (Book 3)
Betrayed (Book 4)
Corrupted (Book 5)
Hunted (Book 6)
THE JASON KING FILES
Cartel (Book 1)
Warrior (Book 2)
Savages (Book 3)
THE WILL SLATER SERIES
Wolf (Book 1)
Lion (Book 2)
BLACK FORCE SHORTS
The Victor (Book 1)
The Chimera (Book 2)
The Tribe (Book 3)
The Hidden (Book 4)
About the Author
Matt Rogers grew up in Melbourne, Australia as a voracious reader, relentlessly devouring thrillers and mysteries in his spare time. Now, he writes full-time. His novels are action-packed and fast-paced. Dive into the Jason King Series to get started with his collection.
Visit his website:
www.mattrogersbooks.com
Visit his Amazon page:
amazon.com/author/mattrogers23