Chapter 1 - My heart rate was sixty-five beats per minute.That was the part I remember most.
Not the knife.
Not the pool cue.
Not the five men charging me across the diner.
Sixty-five.
Calm.
Controlled.
The body does strange things when it has been trained long enough.
Fear can become information.
Anger can become fuel.
And violence can become a language you understand before anyone else in the room realizes a fight has started.
The man with the knife came first.
He was lean, fast, and stupid enough to believe aggression was the same thing as skill.
He raised the blade.
I stepped left.
The knife passed through the space where my ribs had been half a second earlier.
I caught his wrist with my right hand.
My left palm struck his shoulder.
I turned.
His momentum did the rest.
He hit the hardwood floor so hard the diner shook.
The pool cue came next.
I heard the whistle of it before I saw it.
I ducked.
The cue smashed into the metal jukebox behind me.
Glass exploded.
The waitress screamed.
Someone shouted.
Rex remained exactly where I had told him to stay.
That was the terrifying part.
The dog was completely still.
His eyes followed every movement.
He wasn't confused.
He wasn't frightened.
He was waiting for my permission to become something much worse than a dog.
The man holding the cue swung again.
I caught the shaft with both hands.
For half a second, we stared at each other.
Then I twisted.
The cue ripped free.
I drove my shoulder into his chest.
He went backward over a chair.
The third man grabbed a coffee pot.
He lifted it over his head.
I saw the steam.
I saw the reflection of fluorescent lights in the metal.
And I saw something else.
A tattoo on his wrist.
A black serpent wrapped around a dagger.
Iron Vipers.
But underneath the snake was another symbol.
A tiny number.
I had seen that symbol before.
Not here.
Not in this town.
Afghanistan.
Eight years ago.
I froze for less than a second.
That was enough.
The coffee pot slammed into my shoulder.
Pain exploded down my arm.
I staggered.
The man smiled.
“Got you.”
He reached for my throat.
I trapped his arm.
Elbow.
Knee.
He folded.
I shoved him into the nearest booth.
The fourth man tackled me from behind.
We crashed through a table.
Plates flew.
Coffee spilled across the floor.
My back hit the tile.
For the first time all afternoon, my breathing changed.
Seventy-three.
Seventy-eight.
I reached for the man's wrist.
Then I heard Rex growl.
Not loudly.
Just once.
The fourth man looked toward him.
His expression changed.
I used that moment.
I rolled.
Pinned the man's shoulder.
He slammed his fist against the floor.
“Get off me!”
I tightened the hold.
“You should have stayed home.”
Then something hit the back of my head.
Everything went white.
I stumbled forward.
A fifth man stood behind me.
He was holding a broken bottle.
Blood ran down the side of my face.
The room tilted.
He smiled.
“Now who's tough?”
I looked at him.
Then past him.
At Rex.
The dog was still sitting.
Still waiting.
I wiped the blood from my eyebrow.
“You know,” I said quietly, “I've had worse days.”
The fifth man charged.
I moved.
But before I could reach him, a loud crack echoed through the diner.
Everyone stopped.
The front window shattered.
Not from inside.
From outside.
A bullet had punched through the glass.
The waitress screamed.
Everyone dropped.
I hit the floor and pulled Rex behind the counter.
Another shot.
Then another.
Three clean impacts.
Not random.
Someone was firing through the window from across the street.
I looked toward the shattered glass.
A black SUV sat at the curb.
Engine running.
Rear passenger window half open.
I saw the barrel of a rifle.
Then I saw something else.
A red patch.
A serpent.
An Iron Vipers patch.
Butch stared at the window.
His face had gone pale.
I grabbed his collar.
“You know them?”
He didn't answer.
I slammed him against the floor.
“You know them?”
Butch swallowed.
“They're not mine.”
“Who are they?”
He looked toward the SUV.
Then back at me.
May you like
And whispered four words that made the blood in my veins go cold.
“They came for Rex.”
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