The Colt & The Cobra - THE SPECTER SERIES [book six]

Chapter TWENTY ONE

Colt Knox

From my seat beside the stonework fireplace I watch, mesmerised as Mikki and Juliette chatter back and forth over at the dining table set at the far end of the living room.. Juliette having finally convinced Mikki to eat something, which eases my concern for her considerably..
The two of them have so much in common both widowed so young in their lives.. Both having lost a sibling..

I also think it helps that Juliette genuinely has no prejudice, since she has no idea who Mikki really is..
The woman lives under a figurative rock.. No social life.. No interest in anything outside of work and family..
Be damned if I don't worry about her, every fucking day..

And now there is two of them..

It really shouldn't be a surprise to me that they have become thicker than thieves since we arrived..
But it concerns me..
What happens to their bond when I inevitably fuck up?..
And I will fuck it up..
That is my only certainty in all of this..
After all.. That is what I do..

The longer this facade of friendship I have created continues the more impossible it seems that Mikki doesn't get hurt..

If I were better at my job, I'd probably have an easier time of lying to her.. I'd be able to separate the asset from the person and focus on my mission directive..
But I can't.. Because I have never belonged where I have ended up..

I didn't find what I sought when I enlisted.. Instead I was faced with more suffering.. More loss..
I watched my brothers in arms die.. I witnessed a country ablaze with war..I did things no kid should be asked.. And that is all war really is.. Just kids slaughtering kids..
Young men and women laying down their lives for reasons they don't even understand..

After that, I returned home to the rodeo circuit to discover the saddle just didn't fit anymore.. Those eight seconds didn't give me that same sweet rush of freedom they once had, it was obvious from the second I hit the pens that wasn't where I should be either..

Because I don't give a shit about the competition, what's the point when the best there ever was is gone? There's nothing left motivating me to ride.. I don't have the drive to break my back over a sport that'd sooner send me to an early grave than reward me with any greatness..

I'll be damned if it got any better elsewhere, because I sure as shit didn't get what I needed when I got the recruitment call from Hunter Paxton, to contract to the CIA..
That spiderweb of deception that would only test my moral limits and forces me to question everything I know about the man that I am.. Or rather, the man that I was..

My time there changed me, and it wasn't for the better..
No.. All I learned in Langley was how to lie and trust nobody, because the inside of the machine is as corrupted and broken as the criminals it was created to protect us all from..
We live in fear of the boogeyman in the night or the monsters under our beds, when we should be living in terror of the men in black suits..

Now, after a couple years of working for Specter I find myself with the same feelings of empty pointlessness.. Like a feral fucking horse tied to a teather, lunging in circles, straining to break free.. Around and around.. Trapped.. Lashed to the fence post..

Sure, over the course of my career I'd been proficient.. I can walk the walk, shoot the shit and perform along with the best of them..
But the difference between a guy like me and a guy like Jake Harrison is this, his achievements bring him a sense of success.. Mine just bring doubts..

Could I have done more?
Could I have been better?
What did I miss?
Where do I go from here?
How do I live with myself?

After every mission, these questions eat at me from the inside out..