Hunter's Games (37 page)

Up ahead, across the cemetery over by the far gates is a black limousine, surrounded by four men wearing suits, earpieces, and black sunglasses. As we approach, the door opens and a man steps out. He’s shorter than me, maybe five-nine or five-ten. He’s got silver-gray hair, but he isn’t that old, maybe early fifties. His weathered face indicates a hard life, but he’s managed to retain a certain youthfulness about him.

“Adrian,” she begins. “This is—”

“Ryan Schultz,” he interrupts in his broad, Texan accent. “Secretary of Defense for the United States. And you are Adrian
Hell
.”

“That’s me,” I say.

“I have a dilemma, Adrian. See, this is the second time you’ve done our great country a service now, son.”

I shrug humbly and nod, recalling the last time I spoke with him, down in Heaven’s Valley last year.

“But this time you saved my damn life, so I hear.”

I shrug again.

“You’re welcome,” I say.

“You’re welcome
... what?”

“Don’t push your luck, Ryan.”

The Secret Service agents around his car all flex their shoulders back and shift uneasily on the spot. Sensing it, Schultz half-turns, and gestures with his right hand for them to relax.

“Fair enough, son. You’ve done your job and on behalf of the United States, I’d like to extend you our appreciation.”

“Does this get me off the government’s shit list?” I ask.

Schultz frowns and glares at me for a moment in silence, before making a dismissive gesture with his hand and turning back to his car.

“Doesn’t mean I like you, son,” he says, climbing in the back as one of the Secret Service agents slams the door shut behind him.

The limousine drives off, and I turn to Chambers.

“Nice guy.”

She smiles and we both set off walking back toward Josh and Wallis.

“So, what now, Adrian?” she asks. “Do you still intend leaving?”

“I do,” I reply.

She nods, but fails to hide the look of disappointment from her face.

“Where are you going? Do you know?”

I take a deep breath.

“I’m heading for Pittsburgh,” I say after a moment. Saying it out loud makes it seem more real. This is going to be one of the hardest things I’m ever likely to do in my life.

“What’s in Pittsburgh?” she asks.

I lean forward and kiss her on the cheek before taking a step back and looking into her steel-gray eyes.

“Closure.”

THE END

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

James P. Sumner was born in 1982, in Stockport, UK. He's married with a son, and currently lives in Bury, UK. His "other" job, besides being an author, is a full-time Account Manager for a large, international company.

An avid reader from a young age, his heart has always been in writing. In July 2013, he began work on his first novel. After some trial and error, he published his debut thriller himself on Amazon, and hasn't looked back!

He is a Top 10 Bestselling Author on Amazon, with both Hunter's Games and One Last Bullet. True Conviction is also a permanent fixture at the top of the Free charts.

When he's not writing, he's either reading (usually thrillers or comic books), cheering on his beloved Manchester City, or enjoying one of the many TV shows he follows religiously—he's a big fan of Game of Thrones and The Flash!

OTHER TITLES BY THE SAME AUTHOR

For your convenience, the links below take you to my website, where you will find links to all online retailers where the books are available.

THE ADRIAN HELL SERIES

True Conviction

Hunter’s Games

One Last Bullet

Deadly Intent

THE ADRIAN HELL: ORIGINS SERIES

A Hero Of War

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ONE LAST BULLET

1.

ADRIAN HELL

September 30
^th
, 2014

08:37

WE LEFT SAN Francisco a couple of days ago, deciding to take Josh’s Winnebago all the way to Pittsburgh. It’s a long journey, but we’re not in any great rush to get there. I’ve decided it’s finally time to go after Wilson Trent, and now the wheels are in motion, I figured it’s best to take our time, get our heads straight, and make sure we do this right.

Josh is driving, whistling along occasionally to the radio. I’m sitting next to him with my feet resting up on the dash. Outside, the gray clouds overhead have started to spit down on us. I gaze out of the window, my mind racing in every direction as it tries to process what lies ahead.

“You alright?” asks Josh, his trademark British enthusiasm subdued by concern.

“I’m good,” I reply, without looking over. “You?”

“Honestly? I’m a little nervous. But also a little excited, I guess.”

I smile, but remain silent.

“So, I’ve taken the liberty of arranging a job for you along the way,” he continues.

“I dunno about that,” I say, turning to face him. “I wanna stay focused on Trent, not get distracted by some small-time hit that anyone could do…”

“I wasn’t asking for your opinion, Boss—you’re
doing
this job. You absolutely need to stay focused on Trent, you’re right. But you also need to stay sharp and keep on top of your game. The whole Pellaggio thing took it outta you, and practice doesn’t do anyone any harm every once in a while.”

I smile as I regard him while he drives. His shoulder-length blonde hair gives him the look of an aging surfer. Josh Winters has been by my side almost half my life. Over the years, we’ve come to know each other better than brothers. We can have an entire conversation without saying a word. He knows what’s best for me, even when I don’t, and I know it goes without saying that he’s got my back right to the bloody end of the crusade we’re embarking on.

I sigh loudly, mostly for effect, acknowledging one of the rare occasions when he has me beat in an argument.

“Alright, fine... What’s the job?”

“That’s the spirit! The job’s in Vermillion, South Dakota. A rich investment banker has put the word out that his sister’s being violently abused by her husband. It’s been going on for years, apparently, and she’s too scared to do anything about it. Our client has taken matters into his own hands, and wants to hire us to take out the husband.”

My jaw muscles clench as a wave of white-hot anger sweeps over me. I might be a highly skilled, highly paid assassin, but that doesn’t make me a monster. I can’t abide any kind of violence toward women. There’s the occasional exception—namely, if the woman’s trying to kill you... In those rare situations, it’s perfectly acceptable to impose violence. But something like this situation in Vermillion—there’s nothing anyone could say to me that would convince me it’s justified.

I take a deep breath, to subdue the growing rage I feel inside.

“Tell the guy I’ll do it for free,” I say, after a moment.

“Really?” asks Josh, sounding surprised.

I shrug. “I need the practice, not the money. And from the sounds of it, I’d be doing the world a favor. So, yeah, set it up.”

“Alright then,” he says, nodding his head in agreement.

I turn back and resume my staring out the window, watching the world as it passes us by at eighty miles an hour. Since we hit the road, I’ve found myself in a somewhat reflective mood. Understandable, I guess. I’m heading into a war that I inadvertently started eight years ago... A war that’s already cost my wife and daughter their lives... A war that I’ve been running away from ever since... I know I’m a different person than I was way back when—I’m far more capable than I used to be, and mentally I’m in a much better place. But that doesn’t mean I’m not still a little apprehensive.

I quickly massage my temples and rub my eyes, eager to get out of my own head. I look back over at Josh.

“How do you find these jobs?” I ask, my curiosity randomly piqued as my mind wanders, trying to think about something else.

Josh laughs. “All these years and that’s the first time you’ve ever asked me that,” he says.

“Is this going to be one of those things, like when you first find out where milk comes from? Is it going to ruin the magic for me?”