True Beginnings (The Lost and Found Series Book 3)

by Amanda Mackey

And then an even brighter pinpoint of light was being shone straight at my eyeballs, my eyelids being held open. Blindness took over as the other one had the same procedure.

  “Welcome back, Char. You had us all worried.”

  I knew that voice. My brain just had to play catchup.

  Squinting, needing to see my surroundings, I caught sight of a nurse I recognized.

  In a groggy voice, I croaked, “Debbie? What’s going on? Why am I here?”

  “Honey, you don’t remember?”

  Closing my eyes again, I let the fog settle. I recalled working yesterday and then returning home. I jolted upright…

  “I was hit. Robbed.”

  Debbie rushed to my bed, gently pushing me back down. “Shhh. It’s okay. We’re looking after you.”

  “How? I was at home. How did I get here?” Deep throbbing beat a heavy tempo in my skull, causing me to grimace.

  “Do you need some more meds?”

  Nodding, I watched her grab two pills from the tray and lift the bed up so I became more vertical. I took the cup and swallowed the pills, hoping they’d hurry the hell up and work.

  She still hadn’t answered me so I pushed, “How did I get here?”

  “Oh.” Checking my IV, she smiled. “Mac and two hotties brought you. I recognized one of the said hotties as her John Doe she nursed. The other one, whoa! All male testosterone and fierceness. He had all the nurses want to run for cover and throw their panties at him.” A pink blush formed up her neck.

  Viper.

  “Are they still here?”

  I needed to see my friends. I needed Mac.

  “Sure. They’ve been anxiously waiting outside. I’ll go get them now that you’re awake.” She stopped at the door and turned. “You took quite a blow to the head. X-ray showed some minor trauma, but you’ll make a full recovery. You’ll have quite a headache for a few days. We can have the police come if you’d like to make a statement.”

  “No!” The last thing I felt like doing was being interrogated. It could wait until tomorrow. I needed to see Mac and Dec first.

  Her mouth split into a harsh line but she didn’t say anymore as she left.

  Still feeling the cool metal pressed to my temple, I shivered. It could have ended tragically. My life could have been snuffed out in a second. Suddenly the pettiness I normally got wound up over didn’t seem so important. Being alive and breathing trumped everything.

  Watching the door open, emotion washed over me as Mac’s worried face appeared, followed by a serious Dec and a pissed off looking Viper.

  Mac ran. Her frantic voice became louder. “OMG! Char! What happened? I stopped by for a visit and to apologize after our awkward chat at work. I found your door ajar. When I stepped into your living room and found you unconscious, I thought you were dead!”

  She had me in her arms, hugging me. I winced at the sharp pain in my shoulder. The pain meds hadn’t kicked in fully yet.

  Hearing me, she pushed away. “I’m sorry! Where are you sore?”

  “My shoulder from my fall, and my head from getting bashed into my front door.”

  “What?” she shrieked. Two burly, protective warriors moved forward, their posture strained.

  “Char. Tell me what happened. Who did this to you?” Dec squatted beside the bed, putting us on an even keel while Viper flanked Mac, his arms flexed, muscles bulging. He appeared ready to go into battle. I hoped it wasn’t with me, because I couldn’t handle his bullshit right now.

  Drawing in oxygen in an attempt to replay the event, I turned my head to stare at the ceiling. Mac strode around the bed and grasped my hand in comfort.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t see them.”

  I hadn’t seen faces. I hadn’t seen much. Only heard his voice. His deep, caustic voice at my ear.

  “Nothing?” Dec pressed, his voice calm, yet I knew he was anything but.

  “No. He grabbed me from behind.” Feeling anxiety rise and my breathing quicken, I squeezed my eyes tightly shut. “He…he…put a gun to my head.”

  Mac gasped and squeezed my hand. “Shit. I’m sorry you had to go through that, Char. You don’t have to continue. We can come back tomorrow. You just rest.”

  As my best friend, she could see how shaken I was. Not much rattled me, but now I was teetering on a very fine edge of keeping it together and totally having a meltdown.

  Opening my eyes, I looked at the three people surrounding me. Mac had a couple of tears rolling down her face. She pushed some hair from my brow and gently caressed my face. What else could anyone say to that?

  Craning my neck to the right, I watched Dec stand and give Viper a worried stare. He turned back to me and said, “Mac’s right. You need your rest. You want us to call the cops?”

  Viper gripped his friend’s shoulder and pulled slightly until they were eyeballing each other again. “Let’s check out the place first. See if there’s any evidence. I’d like to take a look around before getting the police involved.”

  Dec nodded. “We’ll take care of it, Char, okay? Sleep well, and we’ll come visit tomorrow.”

  “Thank you,” I offered, briefly turning my attention to Viper, who hadn’t said a word to me. For a second, he radiated pain, but then he turned and walked to the door with Dec on his heels, leaving me with Mac.

  “You sure you’re gonna be okay?” she asked.

  Alone with her, hearing the concern in her voice, I could feel my will crumble. Tears welled.

  “I don’t know.” I sniffled. “I was so scared.”

  “I know, sweetie.”

  And if anyone knew, Mac did, which gave me some comfort. She’d endured her own nightmare.

  “If they release you tomorrow, I’m not letting you go home alone. I’ll worry myself sick.”

  Suddenly exhausted, just wanting to let go and sleep, I simply replied with, “Whatever.”

  Kissing my forehead and wiping my tears, which I managed to hold back from flooding out, she whispered. “I’m going to tell the boys to head home. I want to stay a while. Make sure you’re okay. I’m just going to authorize it first. I’ll be right back.”

  Thankful that she would stay with me, I sighed. “Thanks, Mac. I really appreciate it.

  She left the room and I closed my eyes again. The meds had eased the pain to a dull ache but I was incredibly drowsy. I rolled away to face the window with my back to the door and nodded off.

  Chapter Seven

  Viper

  “Son of a bitch!”

  “Easy, man. We’ll find the douche. When we do, he’s gonna be in a world of pain.”

  I couldn’t focus on the words coming out of Dec’s mouth. Rage had me fired up like a bullet about to discharge. I could feel my face and neck burning from the rush of adrenalin. My fists ached from squeezing them so hard.

  As much as Red pushed my buttons and drove me insane, the thought of a stranger causing her harm and aiming a pistol at her head had me all kinds of crazy. Seeing her scared and shaken in that hospital bed had me wanting to find the fucker and deface him.

  Focusing on my friend as he drove to Charlotte’s house, I frowned at his calmness. Normally it was me attempting to restrain him, but for some odd reason, the tables had turned. We’d stopped for some beer, knowing when we got back to my place I was planning to drown in it.

  Slamming my fist onto the dash, once, twice, I ignored the pain, which spread into my wrist. My legs jiggled, just like they did before walking into danger. My blood surged, primed and targeted at my vital organs. I was raring to go, except this time, all the excess testosterone and fire storming my veins had nowhere to go. No outlet. I sat caged in Dec’s truck like a freaking wild animal.

  “Settle,” Dec warned. “I know you, buddy. You’re going to be no good to anyone if you don’t get a hold of that rage. We need to focus on finding clues. We also need to discuss how best to handle this, whether we call in some favors from our team or go solo.”

  Turning and lowering my head, I forced my heart
to slow by breathing long and hard. Pushing out each breath with my mouth while sucking in deep pulls through my nose. In. Out. In. Out.

  “He’s dead. Whoever the animal is, I’ll kill him with my bare hands.”

  My self-control teetered. My PTSD warred with my brain. All I could see was the end result. Another waste of space posing as a human taken care of. The world would be a better place.

  A memory catapulted me into the nether land of war.

  The sounds of the truck’s engine dissolved away until rapid gunfire pealed out. Dust and dirt blew us eastward, seeking out enemies, but it seemed our adversaries had found us first.

  Diving for cover behind the wreck of a burned out car, I watched the rest of my team scatter like roaches. Whoever fired first had poor aim because we’d been sitting ducks for the better part of two minutes while scaling down the rocky slope into a small Afghan town. The dwellings had been created from the very mud upon which they sat, branches of trees acting as pillars to assist failing roofs. Swathes of dirty fabric provided door coverings, while most of the windows were simply gaping holes into dark interiors.

  The streets, if you could call them that, resembled an off-road trucker’s dream with dips and divots haphazardly strewn as far as the eye could see. Whether they were from exploding bombs, or the lack of money and know-how to produce anything better, I wasn’t sure. In the millisecond it took to think this, more gunfire sounded. This time closer.

  Using my skill and instincts, as soon as the shots ceased, I raised my weapon onto the roof of the charred car and fired off round after round in the direction the enemy sat. So did my team.

  Two bodies went down as they’d attempted to close the gap. I needed Dec, but we’d been separated by the initial round of fire. We were all on our own. With instructions to infiltrate and kill, I had no other motive but to fulfill the request to the letter while not getting myself taken down in the process. This is what fed my soul. This moment. The quiet, unknowing when not even a breeze stirred. I licked my parched lips, needing fluid but knowing I needed to push the thirst to the back of the queue of things to do. Seek and destroy first. Eat and drink later.

  Feeling a bullet suddenly whizz past me, I hit the dirt, spinning around for the source. My veins throbbed with the rush of blood. My finger itched on the trigger as I sighted up, ready. Scoping the area, I looked to where I thought Dec might be. With my hawk-like vision, as I faced the dilapidated shack closest to me, I garnered movement at the back of the building. Swinging my weapon around, sharp and focused, I breathed out when I watched Dec emerge, pointing inside the building. That must have been where the close shot came from. We needed to get in and end it.

  Clearing the way for me, four heavily armed soldiers followed Dec, firing random shots around the expanse so my commanding officer and I could proceed.

  Sprinting across the space to meet my friend, he pushed me behind him, letting me know he was in charge and leading the mission. I also knew that it went beyond the duty of his rank. He wanted to protect me like a brother.

  Turning to me and holding up four fingers in our traditional countdown, he let his fingers fall one by one so that when the last one folded down, we moved. Quickly and precisely, our guys still fired off shots.

  Inching along the wall toward a window, we both ducked low and crawled underneath so as not to be seen. Dec motioned to the troops to cease fire but remain vigilant. It was sign language we all knew well.

  Not waiting for another countdown but acting on a single nod, I followed Dec into the slum. It was sparse with a table and two chairs which had been overturned and a few personal items scattered around. A dirty chair sat in one corner with an even dirtier rug in front of it.

  Something hit me on my upper arm and stung like a bitch. Burning momentarily made me lose focus to process that I’d been shot. Dec didn’t falter as I gritted my teeth and began firing. He was on the move, so I followed through the squalor to the only other room we could see. A movement as we neared had me forget about my bleeding wound. Kill. Maim. Destroy. A mantra swallowed any other thoughts.

  We hadn’t spoken a word and still moved like ghosts. More shots fired, halting our entry further. Plastered against the wall, Dec quickly glanced at me and I put my thumb up to let him know I was okay.

  I’d suffered worse. Much worse.

  Nodding to give me approval, I swung only the barrel of my weapon into the room and fired.

  Dec did the same.

  Grunts and wails followed by thuds let us know we’d hit our targets, so we risked it all and moved through the opening.

  Three more bodies lay on the ground. Two still. One moving and attempting to reload his weapon. Too late, sunshine. Time to play.

  Still aiming at his chest, I lowered my weapon to the hand attempting to fumble for his gun. Blood oozed from his thigh and more seeped out of his shoulder. We could just let him bleed out but where would the fun in that be?

  This animal didn’t deserve the air he breathed. He killed for fun and now it was my turn to give him a taste of his own medicine. Scum.

  Grinning at him, I pulled the trigger, blowing a hole in his hand. He screamed, thrusting his head back in pain as I neared. Dec searched the dwelling, letting me party. The douche had a mark on him for death anyway.

  He dragged his head back down to look at me, hatred and agony evident. I didn’t blink. I had no compassion toward the enemy. His bloodied stump rested up across his chest, his other hand clutching just above it as if that might help ease the pain.

  Dec finished his thorough search and returned to my side. “Finish it. We need to move,” he ordered.

  Further adrenalin drove me into a pre-kill frenzy. Bending down, I gripped my prey’s arm and pulled it down to the floor, holding it there while I placed my boot heavily down on the macabre remains of a hand that had killed and maimed innocent villagers.

  Hearing the wretched moans and his weak attempt at trying to pull his arm away, I laughed, lining up my barrel to his leg where I knew the femoral artery ran. This dude deserved a slow and painful death.

  Firing one round, I rose, saluting the dreg of society before following Dec outside.

  “You okay, man?” he asked.

  Why would he ask me that? He knew me better than to ask if I was okay.

  I stared at him.

  “Viper! Viper! You with me?”

  Spiraling back into the present, I found two hands shaking me, a worried frown cutting into Dec’s brow.

  Shaking off my reverie, I nodded, pushing him away.

  “Jesus. Where were you?” he asked, leaning back into his own seat. We’d stopped driving and had parked outside Char’s apartment.

  Fisting both of my eyes to clear my head, I opened the truck door. “Taking out the trash.”

  Slamming the door, I strode purposefully toward the door of Red’s home, intent on looking for clues to help rid society of more insects.

  The crime had happened outside, so if evidence remained, we wouldn’t need to enter.

  “Hey!” A hand on my arm. Pulling me around.

  Dec’s face held grave concern.

  “What’s going on? You look like you’re about to go on a killing spree. Something’s changed with you. Normally you’re cool and collected. I’ve noticed lately you’re battling some sort of inner demon. You not coping anymore?”

  He didn’t need to clarify. He asked if I was losing my grip on my PTSD. He knew me too well.

  Raking a hand over the top of my head, I sighed. “I don’t know, man. Ever since I had to save your ass, I’ve been experiencing things.”

  “Things?” He let me go and stood firm directly in front of me, like the commanding officer he was.

  Letting words drip from my mouth unfiltered, I rambled, “I think I like killing. I feel like I can’t survive without it, and yet another part of me feels like a monster.” Turning away from him, I stepped forward, stopping and gripping my head. “I have so many visions popping into my head of our
time at war. I really am a sick bastard. How can anyone enjoy taking another’s life, regardless of what they’ve done?”

  Shame threatened to bring me to my knees. I couldn’t look at Dec. A small sliver of relief held me in its grip at my confession, but it was minor compared to the war raging within.

  I could feel when he stopped behind me.

  “Talk to me.”

  Swallowing hard, I still couldn’t eye him. “You ever miss the thrill of battle? The adrenalin?”

  “Of course! We’re soldiers. It’s what we do. We love our jobs or we wouldn’t be doing it.”

  My head shot to his, not expecting to hear him sound so enthusiastic after all he’d endured.

  “You still love it?” I asked, shocked.

  “Yep. That’s not to say I exactly like taking a life, but it’s us or them. We’re the good guys. We don’t go around beheading and aimlessly killing innocents. We serve to protect.”

  Sighing out a huge breath, I continued, needing him to understand. “Maybe, but my dreams are all about the killing part. Not about the saving innocent lives. What does that even mean?”

  “You taking your meds?”

  Scratching my face, I answered, “Yeah. I’m on the strongest dose.”

  Watching headlights brighten, waiting for a vehicle to drive past us, I anticipated my friend’s advice. I needed him to tell me I wasn’t going crazy. Special Ops soldiers had to be tough. Our minds had to be like machines. Closed off and untouchable to the aftereffects of war. Special types of people who could disassociate themselves from it all. I’d been that warrior. I’d never batted an eyelid in the most horrific of situations for a good part of my career. But what if the human brain could only take so much? What if our inner computers weren’t hardwired to retain so much horror? What if eventually, it changed us? Fucked us up. Were human beings, even cold, hardened ones, meant to witness such evil and not have it alter them in some way?

  Another what if. What if all the killing I’d done had turned me into a psychopath?

  “Okay. Answer me this.” His deep voice pulled me from my own head. “Have you ever had the desire to kill an innocent man?”