Shephard (Mountain Men of Danger Falls #1)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

O utskirts of Kazakhstan

Shephard

Target acquired.

Hunt completed.

Timing… sucked.

I had thirty minutes to get my ass out of this godforsaken country or I’d lose my window. This was my single and only chance to accomplish my mission. Given the terrain and the security kept around the vicious target at all times, using a rifle wasn’t possible. I was hovering on the rooftop with a small rocket launcher in my hands. It wasn’t my weapon of choice by far, but at this point, I had no other choice.

I’d been patient, but the streets were crowded with soldiers, recent bombings adding to the chaotic feeling. Civilians were terrified, but mostly of the actions coming from the target and his men. He was ceremoniously eliminating those he called unwanted.

The United States government considered him a worldwide terrorist. He would soon meet his maker. My guess was the devil would toss him out for bad behavior.

Hissing, I glanced at the building where I’d tracked him, counting down the time left in my mind. No need to look at my watch. I’d already been told to abort by my handler, but I’d never failed a mission.

Or been unable to locate a target no matter where in the world the enemy ran.

Five minutes. I’d be stretching it, but my gut told me to keep my ass right where it was. I controlled my breathing, never blinking as I looked through the view finder. Two minutes passed.

Three.

Four.

Fuck.

There was radio silence, but I knew Russ was on the other end of the command module, ready to chew out my ass. I couldn’t care less. Thirty seconds.

The light was turned on inside the room, the open windows allowing for a clear shot. It was the only good news of the day. Everything else had turned to shit, including almost getting blown up in a field a few hours before. Now I needed visual confirmation.

A few people entered the room, the man’s soldiers. They were drinking just as I’d suspected would happen. They’d secured a win, blowing up a goddamn hospital full of injured patients. Maybe I’d been betting on his celebratory actions. That would mean their guard was down.

Losing time.

In my mind, I calculated my odds. They sucked, nearing the single digits at this point.

Come on, buddy. Step into the light.

Time was up, but I held back for a few seconds longer. The second my target popped into view, I didn’t hesitate. I’d fired my weapon countless times. I knew how to handle it without issue. As smoothly as butter, the shot went off, the trajectory perfect.

I didn’t wait around long enough to see if I’d hit my target.

I knew I had, the building exploding seconds later.

Call me arrogant, but I had a one hundred percent accuracy rate. I was the best in the business.

Two weeks later

Somewhere in the Eastern United States

I stood in front of the window staring out at the muddled moon, the usually bright orb covered by clouds. I preferred the darkness, the comfort shadows offered. Tonight was no exception. I’d returned home, if that’s what you could call the hole in the wall I’d rented for a month. I never did it for longer, never stayed in the same place twice. I could be called on a mission at any time.

Which I expected sooner versus later.

I was also considered a ghost, nicknamed the Killer. Even though I’d managed to stay anonymous throughout my career, my identity never challenged, there was still a hefty bounty on my head in at least a dozen countries.

There were also enough dangerous monsters in the world I could work until in my seventies if my body and mind cooperated. Job security in picking off unwanted monsters. I almost laughed and took another pull of my beer. A luxury. Alcohol. Just like decent food.

It wasn’t a surprise my communications unit buzzed, indicating I was getting a call from my handler. I never interacted with anyone but Russ, a man I’d never met and likely never would. The organization I worked for was private and very secure.

The members classified.

I took a deep breath and headed for the device, answering with the code given to me to memorize on day one as required.

In turn, he recited his.

“Confirmation accepted. How you doing, buddy? Home safely?”

I snorted. “Yeah, after almost getting shot three times.”

“Hey. You survived.”

There was a different hitch in his voice that I didn’t like. “A mission?”

“Not yet. Cutbacks, you know. But I need to tell you something.”

“What do you mean cutbacks?” My ass. What the fuck was the man hiding?

His hesitation meant I wasn’t being prepped for a mission. Just the opposite. “Look. There was an issue with the last mission.”

“What do you mean an issue? The fucker live?”

“Not exactly.”

I took another pull on my beer as he lowered his voice, his tone more drone-like than I was used to. There was an instant flashback to the moment and the single shot taken. And in those next few seconds, it was as if I was hit by a wall.

Or worse.

I’d become the monster.