Watching From The Shadows: Trident Security Book 5 by Samantha A. Cole Page B
Authors: Samantha A. Cole
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right, dude. I know you’re still in shock, but think about this long and hard before you walk out of that kid’s life, because when you’re old and grey…that walk might just come back to bite you in the ass. And then it’ll be too late.”
Minutes later, Marco was standing all alone in the lot, licking his wounds, and wondering what the fuck had just happened. Hell, even the usually friendly Beau was snubbing him, having returned to the offices with the others. For the first time in years, he felt truly alone in the world. Fuck!
C HAPTER 6
Five hours later, covered in sweat, Marco pounded on the punching bag hanging from the ceiling in one of his spare bedrooms. It had become Nina’s bedroom when she’d moved in with him six months before her death. After her passing, it had taken him weeks before he could enter the room again, even though she had given away most of her possessions after finding out her cancer was terminal. The hospice bed was long gone, so aside from a few pieces of furniture and pictures on the wall, it had been relatively empty. A few months ago, he’d opened the door one day and decided to do something with the room. He already had an office across the hall, so a home gym seemed like the perfect solution.
He’d taped his bruised knuckles from his earlier fight with Brody to prevent the abrasions from bleeding all over the leather covered bag. They were sore, but he ignored the pain, channeling it back into his punches. Alternating between jabs, crosses, hooks, and uppercuts, followed by some knee and feet kicks, he punished the bag for its fictional crimes against humanity.
Shit! He’d actually had a knock-down, drag-out, fist fight with his best friend. What the hell had gotten into him? He couldn’t blame Brody for decking him. As he thought back to the words he’d spit out seconds before the geek’s fist connected with his chin, he deserved every punch thrown at him and more. His reaction to the whole fucked up situation was…well, fucked up.
After landing a one-two combination harder than necessary, he finally hugged the bag in exhaustion. A shower, followed by something to eat, and he’d head back to the hospital. It was time for Harper and him to have a serious talk. From there, he’d figure out what to do next, but in the meantime, he would do everything he could to keep her and their daughter safe. Their daughter…jeez.
He’d just opened a nearby cabinet to get a towel when the beep-beep-beep of his security system went off. Grabbing for the pistol he kept hidden on the top shelf, he prepared to confront the intruder, but then heaved a sigh of relief when he heard a familiar voice bellow, “Don’t fucking shoot me. I’m just here for the food.”
Leaving the weapon where it was, he stepped out into the living room, wiping his dripping face with a towel, to find Carter in the adjoining dining area. The guy was sorting through several bags of takeout from Donovan’s Pub, which were sitting on the table next to a six-pack of beer. The remark about the food was a long standing joke between the team and the operative after he had run into Devon, unexpectedly, at a swanky hotel in Rio de Janeiro while on a mission many years ago. But the quip was usually stated in the negative sense, though, and meant he couldn’t talk about his current classified assignment. Apparently, right now, he was in the mood to talk. Great. Just what Marco fucking needed.
The superspy glanced up and smirked. “Figured you could use a good burger and a beer or two. Jenn threw in a slice of carrot cake, too, just for you.”
He grabbed the nearby remote and turned on the TV to ESPN with the volume on low. “That’s ‘cause she likes me best.”
“Not.” Carter snorted as Marco headed to the kitchen for some napkins and ketchup. “She likes me best. She packed up some fresh-out-of-the-oven chocolate chip cookies for me. The big ones I like that come with the vanilla ice cream, which
Minutes later, Marco was standing all alone in the lot, licking his wounds, and wondering what the fuck had just happened. Hell, even the usually friendly Beau was snubbing him, having returned to the offices with the others. For the first time in years, he felt truly alone in the world. Fuck!
C HAPTER 6
Five hours later, covered in sweat, Marco pounded on the punching bag hanging from the ceiling in one of his spare bedrooms. It had become Nina’s bedroom when she’d moved in with him six months before her death. After her passing, it had taken him weeks before he could enter the room again, even though she had given away most of her possessions after finding out her cancer was terminal. The hospice bed was long gone, so aside from a few pieces of furniture and pictures on the wall, it had been relatively empty. A few months ago, he’d opened the door one day and decided to do something with the room. He already had an office across the hall, so a home gym seemed like the perfect solution.
He’d taped his bruised knuckles from his earlier fight with Brody to prevent the abrasions from bleeding all over the leather covered bag. They were sore, but he ignored the pain, channeling it back into his punches. Alternating between jabs, crosses, hooks, and uppercuts, followed by some knee and feet kicks, he punished the bag for its fictional crimes against humanity.
Shit! He’d actually had a knock-down, drag-out, fist fight with his best friend. What the hell had gotten into him? He couldn’t blame Brody for decking him. As he thought back to the words he’d spit out seconds before the geek’s fist connected with his chin, he deserved every punch thrown at him and more. His reaction to the whole fucked up situation was…well, fucked up.
After landing a one-two combination harder than necessary, he finally hugged the bag in exhaustion. A shower, followed by something to eat, and he’d head back to the hospital. It was time for Harper and him to have a serious talk. From there, he’d figure out what to do next, but in the meantime, he would do everything he could to keep her and their daughter safe. Their daughter…jeez.
He’d just opened a nearby cabinet to get a towel when the beep-beep-beep of his security system went off. Grabbing for the pistol he kept hidden on the top shelf, he prepared to confront the intruder, but then heaved a sigh of relief when he heard a familiar voice bellow, “Don’t fucking shoot me. I’m just here for the food.”
Leaving the weapon where it was, he stepped out into the living room, wiping his dripping face with a towel, to find Carter in the adjoining dining area. The guy was sorting through several bags of takeout from Donovan’s Pub, which were sitting on the table next to a six-pack of beer. The remark about the food was a long standing joke between the team and the operative after he had run into Devon, unexpectedly, at a swanky hotel in Rio de Janeiro while on a mission many years ago. But the quip was usually stated in the negative sense, though, and meant he couldn’t talk about his current classified assignment. Apparently, right now, he was in the mood to talk. Great. Just what Marco fucking needed.
The superspy glanced up and smirked. “Figured you could use a good burger and a beer or two. Jenn threw in a slice of carrot cake, too, just for you.”
He grabbed the nearby remote and turned on the TV to ESPN with the volume on low. “That’s ‘cause she likes me best.”
“Not.” Carter snorted as Marco headed to the kitchen for some napkins and ketchup. “She likes me best. She packed up some fresh-out-of-the-oven chocolate chip cookies for me. The big ones I like that come with the vanilla ice cream, which
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