Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 113741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
“Correct and I started to dig more. I found the design and maker of the boot. I found no government agency in the world bought this boot. This boot’s an expensive, custom built boot. It’s designed for hard wear and tear over any terrain. So what’s it doing in each of these varied situations, every time there were casualties?” Gage asked.
“Now, Trent, before I turn this, let me tell you I got super lucky. I found a small photographer in the West Indies who had a similar photo as mine, but she took the shot with their faces up. It’s gruesome, but look at the face I point out,” Gage warned. Trent nodded before he turned the photo over. It showed several mutilated bodies and one which was whole, the body sprayed in blood. As Gage’s finger moved to the whole man’s face, Trent focused in on it, recognition instantaneous. His heart dropped to his feet. That man couldn’t be Em’s and Hunter’s father. There had to be another explanation.
“Now based on these pictures, here and here, this man is wearing these boots,” Gage said, and left it right there, not saying anything more.
“This looks like my children’s father,” Trent said, voluntarily lifting his eyes to Gage’s for the first time that night.
“I know… that’s why I freaked out on you on Sunday night,” Gage said and sat back a little, giving Trent time to process everything. Trent took the time, looking at every picture again, then back at the face of the last photo. The time and date stamp at the bottom of the picture showed two years ago. Not possible. Aaron died four years ago.
“Gage, this can’t be him. He’s dead. Could it be a brother or relative?” Trent asked, lifting his eyes back to Gage’s. Gage’s silence said he had more to share.
“So he’s not dead?” Trent asked; dread coursed through Trent’s veins. Trent couldn’t even fully wrap his mind around it all.
“Let me finish,” Gage said, not answering any of Trent’s questions.
“Then give me the more bullet-pointed version.”
“After I identified him, I began searching for him. I found civilians who knew him in some of the worst parts of the world. Then I got lucky, one night in New Orleans, I stumbled on a drunk, talking a bunch of crap, but he knew this guy, a supposed family connection. I got a story and it’s held together, but worse than I ever imagined at the time. He’s a paid assassin, hired by just about anyone to kill just about anything. He’s killed hundreds to thousands of innocent people, trafficked in drugs, sex, women, children, whatever the highest bidder needed, and he would change course in the middle of a job if someone paid him better.”
“Trent, I’ve found him in Mexico. He’s alive, but in hiding. His every movement is being tracked,” Gage said. He turned over more pictures of the kid’s dad, dressed as a monk with a large dark robe covering his head, but the eyes were there. Hunter looked so much like his father. Trent couldn’t look at them anymore and lifted his eyes to the laptop in front of him. As he stared at it, the screen saver popped up with a picture of him in his tux at the grand opening. His brain struggled to digest it all and the slow steady pound of his heart wasn’t helping his brain absorb everything fast enough. This wasn’t the breakup speech he thought he was getting tonight. Though, it was that and so much more.
“So you’re saying their dad is still alive and a paid assassin?” Trent finally asked, but his head rejected it just as quickly.
“Yes,” Gage said. He leaned across the table, closer to Trent, getting back into his personal space again, and Trent sat back in his seat. Keeping a distance grew critical at this point if for no other reason than to ensure enough oxygen actually got to his brain.
“And you’re sure it’s the same person? He could have had a brother?” Trent asked.
“No, it’s the same. I’ve spent the last two days researching, investigating, and testing the hypothesis. I didn’t have this alias on him—the one he used with Lynn—but I have men there with him now. I have DNA on him and it matches the DNA found in a hairbrush on Em’s dresser,” Gage said.
“How accurate?” Trent asked. Gage flipped the DNA report over and the gravity of the situation fell in his lap with the numbers at the top of the page that screamed, ‘Match!’. There were pictures of him, his kids, and their father at different stages of their lives in the DNA report.
“Over ninety-nine percent accurate, Trent,” Gage said.
“On both the kids?” Trent asked.
“Yes.”
“Fuck, Gage, what does this mean?” Confusion clouded his mind. Nothing he came up with made any sense. But it all boiled down to his family being totally fucked. Gone was his need to save his self-respect. Now the biggest emotion pouring through called for him to protect Em and Hunter at all cost, and he wasn’t sure it could be done or how to go about it.
“I don’t know, I was hoping you could fill some of this in,” Gage said, and he reached out to take his hand, but Trent shrugged it off, pushing back in his chair.
“I didn’t know any of this,” Trent said and began to absently run his hand over his chest, above his heart.
“How did your sister meet him?” Gage finally sat back some in his chair, giving him more room.
“Shit, Gage, I don’t know. On a vacation I think. He was from here, but stationed in another country. He’s of Middle Eastern decent I think, or one his parents were. Something like that… They met when Lynn and Sophia were on vacation during spring break, I think.” Trent stumbled over his words trying to remember.
“Sophia was there when they met?” Gage asked.
“Yeah, I think so,” Trent said.
“Did they live around here after they got together?” Gage asked.