Before The Storm (The Hunters: Origins Book 1)

by Chris Kuzneski

  But next to Payne, he felt like a garden gnome.

  Knowing what Cobb had been through, Payne greeted his friend with a massive bear hug. It so powerful and unexpected it actually knocked the wind out of Cobb, whose feet briefly dangled above the floor. In that moment, Cobb knew what it felt like to be mauled by a grizzly.

  “Put…me…down,” Cobb gasped.

  Payne grinned as he released his prey. “Good to see you, too!”

  Cobb couldn’t help but laugh. “Holy shit, I see the steroids are working.”

  Payne laughed. “Look who’s talking! Your veins are huge. It’s like you have dicks under your skin. Then again, what’s the expression? You are what you eat.”

  Cobb playfully punched him in the arm. It was like hitting a telephone pole. “I’ll ignore the insult and focus on the bigger picture. What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you.”

  “Yeah, I kind of figured that. I mean, how did you find me?”

  “How do you think?”

  Cobb rolled his eyes. The answer was obvious.

  He was quite familiar with Randy Raskin.

  The computer genius worked in a windowless office in the subbasement of the Pentagon, but due to his classified position as a researcher for the U.S. military, the data he compiled frequently found its way to the White House.

  Payne had used his services on many occasions, which had eventually led to a friendship. Raskin often pretended he didn’t have time for Payne, but the truth was he admired him greatly and would do almost anything to help. And the feeling was mutual. Payne loved to brag about the gifted hacker to anyone who would listen.

  “As you know, Randy can find just about anything.”

  “Except a girlfriend,” Cobb joked.

  Payne laughed loudly as they headed toward the bar. “Truth be told, I don’t think he’s looking for a girlfriend. He’s too busy building one.”

  Chapter 3

  There were too many people milling around the bar for a private conversation, so Payne grabbed a table in the back of the Palm Pavilion while Cobb ordered drinks.

  The air conditioning and ceiling fans struggled to cool the back room, but the panoramic views of Clearwater Beach and the Gulf of Mexico more than made up for it. So did the glass door, which dimmed the hustle and bustle of the beachside bar and—more importantly—muffled the sound of the wailing white guy who was now butchering the Drifters’ classic summer song, “Under the Boardwalk”.

  Payne was a fan of live music and usually tipped musicians generously, but this singer was so dreadful Payne was tempted to pay the customers seated next to the stage who were forced to listen to the screeching. Payne ultimately decided against it because he assumed the singer had to be related to the owner—or possibly the owner himself—and didn’t want to get thrown out of the place.

  At least not this early in the day.

  The fun was just getting started.

  Cobb entered the lime-green room with a pitcher of beer and two frosted mugs. Payne was sitting at a table in the far corner. It was the most tactical seat in the place. The wall protected Payne’s back, and he had a clear view of the glass door and the bar beyond. It was the seat Cobb would have chosen if given the choice.

  Not that they were worried about an ambush.

  To them, these precautions were second nature.

  Kind of like breathing.

  “I hope you like Reef Donkey,” Cobb said as he walked through the empty room. “The bartender recommended it. Said it’s brewed locally.”

  “Is it beer?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is it cold?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Then I’ll like it.”

  Cobb smiled. “A man after my own heart.”

  He poured two mugs before sitting in the wicker chair across from Payne. From there, Cobb had a clear view out the back and side windows, which meant they could see collectively in every direction.

  Although they were no longer in the military, their training was hardwired into their DNA. This was obvious in all aspects of their lives and one of the main reasons why it was so difficult for elite soldiers to transition to the private sector. After years of honor, discipline, and service, the real world was something of a letdown.

  Payne knew this better than most.

  He had inherited his grandfather’s company—a multinational corporation named Payne Industries—and the fortune that came with it, but quickly found himself bored with the day-to-day minutiae of corporate life. Despite having more money than he could possibly spend in his lifetime, he found himself constantly risking his life in pursuit of adventure. Whether it was searching for a lost throne in Greece, a secret crown in Germany, or a death relic in Mexico, he realized he needed to risk his life to feel alive.

  And he assumed Cobb would feel the same.

  “So,” Cobb blurted. “What gives? Why are you here?”

  “Why?” Payne sipped his beer before leaning back in his chair. “You asked the same question on the phone. My answer hasn’t changed. I’m visiting a friend.”

  “Yeah, but why?”

  “I need a reason to visit a friend?”

  “Under the circumstances, yes.”

  “What circumstances are those?”

  Cobb growled softly. “You’re such a dick.”

  Payne couldn’t help but laugh. “Did you just growl at me?”

  “Maybe. But not on purpose.”

  Payne laughed again. “Jack, I swear, I’m not being a dick. I’m just trying to gauge your situation. There are tons of rumors flying around, and I’ve probably heard less than half of them. So I truly don’t know what’s going on with you. That’s why I hopped on a plane to Hades to have a beer with you. It’s why my balls are sweating.”

  “Your balls are sweating because of me?”

  “Just not in the way you’d prefer.”

  Cobb cracked a smile. “You’re such an ass.”

  “I’ve been called worse. In fact, someone just called me a dick a minute ago.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to attack you. But my anger is working overtime at the moment. It’s been a tough week.”

  “In what way?”

  Cobb pondered the question as he sipped his beer. “During the past few days, I’ve felt like I had the plague. Everywhere I went, people slammed doors on me. Literally slammed doors in my face. Some of my oldest contacts even shut me out. I’m not sure what I expected when I flew down here, but I sure as shit didn’t expect this.”

  “Come on, Jack. We both know it’s for show.”

  “What is?”

  “Their reaction! Do you really think your friends are going to bail on you over some trumped up charges that no one is allowed to read? Not a chance in Hell!” Payne glanced through the window at the scorching terrain. “Actually, given our current location, I didn’t need to say Hell. That’s already implied.”

  “Hold on. I’m confused.”

  “Really? I thought it was obvious. It’s really hot down here, so—”

  “Not about that! I’m confused about the first part. The reaction part.”

  “Come on, Jack. You’re a smart guy. A heck of a lot smarter than I am. You had to know what was going to happen when you went to MacDill. Did you really think they were going to let you on the base?”

  “I had my doubts, but—”

  “Then why’d you go?”

  “I had to know for sure.”

  “And now you know. The military is done with you. It’s no longer an option. The sooner you wrap your head around that, the better.”

  Cobb nodded but said nothing.

  “That said, your friends aren’t done with you. Even the ones who slammed a door in your face are still in your corner.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Jack, trust me, they have your back. So much so, I’m kind of jealous.”

  Cobb stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

&nb
sp; “Do you know how many calls I received from MacDill over the past few days? Forty-eight! Forty-eight calls about your sorry ass.” Payne changed his voice to a sarcastic tone. “Oh my God, we’re soooo worried about Jack…. Our hands are tied, but we want to help Jack…. Help me, Jonathon. You’re my only hope.”

  “No, they didn’t.”

  “Yes, they did,” Payne assured him. “Well, maybe not that last one. I think I got that from Star Wars. But all the other ones are accurate. And if you don’t believe me, call my secretary. She’s the one who took all the calls.”

  Cobb breathed deeply, relieved to hear the news.

  Maybe things weren’t as bad as they seemed.

  Payne grinned as he sipped his beer. “Truth be told, she’s the only reason I’m down here. She was so sick of hearing your name, she forced me get on a plane to stop their whining. As you know, I don’t give a damn about you or our friendship.”

  “Obviously.”

  “I’m merely here to keep her happy. She’s been with Payne Industries for more than fifty years and runs a tight ship. Without her, the company would fold overnight.”

  “In that case,” Cobb said as he raised his mug, “here’s to your secretary. It’s good to have someone you can count on in your time of need.”

  Payne lifted his mug. “Don’t I know it.”

  “Seriously,” Cobb said as he lowered his mug. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but your visit means the world to me. Thanks for taking the time to fly down here. It means more than you can possibly imagine.”

  “No worries, man. You’d do the same for me.”

  Cobb shrugged. “Actually, I’m not sure I would. I mean, I don’t have a secretary to guilt me into it, or pack for me, or make my flight arrangements. Honestly, I’d probably just send you a text with a sad emoji and that’s about it.”

  Payne grinned. “Now who’s being a dick?”

  “Sorry,” Cobb said with a laugh. “Things were getting a little too serious. I wanted to cool things off before you went in for the kiss.”

  “Don’t worry, Jack. You aren’t my type.”

  “Speaking of your type, where’s DJ?”

  Payne glanced at his phone. “That’s a very good question.”

  Chapter 4

  David Jones was easily distracted, particularly on a tropical beach with dozens of sunbathing beauties in bikinis. As much as he loved the city of Pittsburgh, he would be the first to admit it lacked the scenery of Florida.

  The sand and water were great to look at, too.

  “Sweet gelato,” Jones said to himself as he stared at the parade of ladies that overwhelmed the stretch of beach near the Palm Pavilion. It was as if all the modeling agencies in Tampa Bay had arranged a field trip to Clearwater to guarantee every model in the area had the same amount of tan lines.

  Whatever the reason for their presence, Jones viewed it as a gift from a loving, benevolent god, who was obviously a horny man or lesbian. Not wanting to insult this free-spirited deity, Jones decided to investigate the women sprawled before him.

  This, of course, made perfect sense considering his line of work.

  A graduate of the U.S. Air Force Academy, Jones had served as Payne’s second in command in the MANIACs before leaving the military to set up a private investigations firm in Pittsburgh. It had been a lifelong dream to become a detective, and Payne had helped Jones achieve it by arranging the necessary financing and giving him an entire floor of prime real estate in the Payne Industries complex atop Mount Washington.

  To Payne’s financial advisors, the transaction had seemed far too generous, but what the pencil pushers had failed to realize was the fraternal bond the men had forged while fighting side by side behind enemy lines.

  Payne and Jones were more than friends.

  They were brothers.

  After losing the only legal relative in his life—his grandfather—Payne had realized the best way to keep his sanity while transitioning into the real world was to keep Jones nearby. And Jones had been more than happy to oblige. Although Payne was white and Jones was black, the two of them were like twins. The duo had a connection that few people in the world would ever get to experience, and though neither of them would admit it, they realized they’d be foolish to take their friendship for granted.

  That said, their friendship was far from perfect.

  The two of them constantly got on each other’s nerves.

  And this was one of those times.

  * * *

  Payne growled when he glanced at his phone.

  No messages, no missed calls, no updates of any kind.

  His best friend was M.I.A.

  “Now who’s growling?” Cobb teased.

  Payne laughed. “Sorry about that. Sometimes DJ pisses me off. We fly all the way down here to see you, and somehow he gets lost in the parking lot. He probably saw a balloon or something shiny. I swear, he has the attention span of a toddler.”

  “No worries,” Cobb assured him. “I prefer this for the time being. It gives us a chance to speak in private. As I mentioned, I planned to give you a call this week.”

  “About?”

  “As much as it pains me to admit it, I need a favor.”

  Payne grinned. “No problem, man. Whatever you need. As a former Naval officer, I’m used to bailing out Army personnel on a regular basis.”

  Cobb rolled his eyes. “Go on. Get it out of your system.”

  “But it’s true. If you’d like, I’d be more than happy to rattle off a list of a hundred missions where I swooped in and saved the lives of Army grunts.”

  “No thanks. I’m good.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive!”

  “You know what else I’m used to?”

  “Sex with DJ?” Cobb joked.

  “Beating West Point in football. Seriously, man, when was the last time the Cadets beat Navy? I think Roosevelt was president.”

  “Ouch. That hurts.”

  “Teddy,” Payne stressed, “not FDR. I’m talking about Teddy.”

  Cobb tried not to laugh. “Are you done?”

  “For now. But I reserve the right to tease you again later.”

  “Screw you. Permission denied.”

  “Really? Not even—”

  “No,” Cobb said as he grabbed the pitcher, “not if you want to keep drinking for free. My beer, my rules. Got it?”

  “Fine. I’ll play nice. But only ’cause I’m thirsty.”

  Cobb nodded and pushed the pitcher toward Payne, who quickly refilled his mug. Payne didn’t imbibe often, but when he did, he could drink almost anyone under the table thanks to his size and remarkable metabolism. If he didn’t consume eight thousand calories a day, he would lose weight.

  “So,” Payne said, “what kind of favor?”

  “I need a job.”

  “Done! You’re hired.”

  Cobb shook his head. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

  Payne stared at him. “Do you have a job?”

  “No.”

  “Do you need a job?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, now you have one. Welcome to Payne Industries.”

  “Jon, I’m flattered, but—”

  “Can you type? How are your filing skills?”

  “Jon—”

  “Oops! I forgot. You went to West Point. You probably don’t even know how to read. Not to worry. We’ll find something you can actually do. How are you at mowing?”

  “Jon!” Cobb blurted with a smile. “I’m flattered! I’m truly flattered by your faith in me. I can’t stress that enough. But I wasn’t asking for a job.”

  “You weren’t? Because it sure sounded like it when you said, ‘I need a job’.”

  “Well, I do need a job, but I wasn’t asking you to give me one.”

  “Then what were you asking for?”

  “A letter of recommendation.”

  “That’s it? That’s all you want? A letter of recommendation?”
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  Cobb nodded. “Considering my situation, I think a letter would open a lot of doors. As much as it pains me to admit this, your name carries a lot of weight in our industry.”

  “What industry is that?”

  “Soldiering.”

  “Not to sound cocky, but it carries a lot of weight in other industries as well.”

  “I’m sure it does, but…”

  “You want to be a soldier.”

  Cobb nodded. “It’s who I am.”

  “I get it. Trust me, I get it. When I left the MANIACs to run Payne Industries, I felt like half a man—like I’d left a vital part of me behind. Some days I still feel that way, and when I do I find something to fill the void. Why do you think DJ and I are always running off on our little adventures? It’s not because we need the money.”

  “I’ll be honest, some adventure sounds pretty good right about now.”

  “Well, next time we stumble across something we’ll be sure to give you a call.”

  “How often does that happen?”

  Payne laughed. “More often than you’d think.”

  Chapter 5

  Never one to waste an opportunity, Jones left the blistering heat of the parking lot for the cool, white sand of Clearwater Beach. Though Payne was expecting him inside, Jones knew if his plan worked to perfection, all would be forgiven.

  Dressed in a white tank top that showed off his arms and light-blue board shorts, Jones headed for a trove of ten beauties sprawled before him. Most were lying on colorful blankets or reclining on folding chairs. Other than sunglasses and bathing suits, the only other thing they were wearing was lotion.

  The wind was starting to pick up, and the sky was turning gray. Thunder boomed in the distance, like it always did this time of day. Jones knew he could use all of that to his advantage. Still, he knew the odds were stacked against him. He had picked up women before, but never so many at the exact same time.

  This would take some finesse.

  He surveyed the scene for an opening—something to get the conversation started—when he spotted a peculiar item next to a stack of towels. One of the women had brought a shovel to the beach. Not a plastic toy shovel to build sandcastles, but a metal shovel with a large wooden handle that looked like it belonged on a construction site.