Chapter 1
Janus
South Sudan—3 Years Ago
My finger taps against the receiver of my HK416 assault rifle.
In the distance, I can hear bursts of gunfire echoing in between buildings.
I look over my shoulder at my friend.
Even though we’re both wearing sunglasses to shield our eyes from the sun, I know that our eyes lock. And I know that my dark-haired friend has the same concern in his dark eyes that I have in mine.
A burst of gunfire has us both turning around in surprise.
Unlike the other gunfire we’ve been hearing, this is much closer—and coming from where we planned to exit.
“Manticore, time to get the truck.”
“On it.”
The soldier of fortune makes his exit out of the room and to our vehicle.
I walk into the apartment’s tiny kitchen, where my employer is working.
Danielle Robinson—or Dani, as she prefers—is sitting at a small table, talking to a scared South Sudan woman and her small child.
The curly-haired brunette is a journalist from the New York Times, investigating the militia attacks here in the country. Manticore and I have been working with her for the last couple weeks as bodyguards and translators—much to the chagrin of our friends.
Normally, this isn’t my kind of job.
Gryphon, Leviathan, Manticore, and myself are rogues—scoundrels. Gryphon is the thief, Leviathan is our tech guy, Manticore is the muscle, and I’m the forgery man.
Playing bodyguard in the middle of country-wide genocide is not our thing, but the money was too good to pass up, and Manticore offered to do the job with me.
And with Manticore as backup, I’m confident enough I could march into Hell and come out unscathed.
“We need to go. Now.”
Dani looks up at me from the small table and scowls. She hates it when I try to save her life.
“I’m almost done. Then we can leave.”
Another round of gunfire rings out. It’s a couple blocks away—at most.
“You hear that? That means we’re done. Now let’s go.”
“Then we’re bringing them with us,” she says, motioning to the woman and her child.
As much as I want to say that they aren’t my concern, I’m not about to leave them here to be butchered.
“Alright, let’s move.”
I turn and leave the kitchen. From behind me, I can hear Danielle telling the woman to quickly pack a small bag. The woman rushes past me to her bedroom, and Dani stands beside me with the little girl in her arms.
“Thank you.”
From the corner of my eye, I can see her looking at me with a soft smile.
“Nothing to thank me for. We need to leave, and we have the room. Bringing them with us isn’t a big deal,” I say bluntly.
“It’s a big deal to them. You’re saving their lives right now.”
“No,” I correct her. “You are.”
Another round of gunfire rings out just as I hear Manticore through my earpiece telling me that he’s downstairs with the SUV.
“Alright, Manticore is downstairs. Let’s get moving.”
Dani rushes over to the bedroom and grabs the woman. Tears are streaming down the woman’s face. In her dark eyes, I can see a mix of terror and relief.
Since taking this job, I’ve seen that look of terror in the eyes of a lot of people.
As disheartening as it is, it makes me thankful that this isn’t the kind of work that I do on a regular basis—not anymore, that is.
I lead the three of them down the stairs and through the narrow corridors of the apartment to the streets below.
I make the three of them hold in the doorway while I make sure that the street is clear. Once I’m satisfied, I open the back door to the SUV and motion for the three of them to get in.
Dani helps the woman and her daughter in first before getting in herself. I shut the door the once they’re in and move around the front of the vehicle. I’m nearly at the passenger side when Manticore calls out a warning.
With my rifle raised, I spin around and catch sight of several armed militiamen armed with AK-47s.
They shout at me to stop and put my hands up before abruptly changing their minds and opening fire.
A hail of bullets whiz by me, and I return fire.
I hit one of the shooters’ center mass, and he falls dead. The rest of them run for cover, and I take the opportunity to jump into the SUV. I don’t even have the door closed before Manticore hits the gas.
The armed men shoot at us as we drive by. Their bullets take out a couple windows and ricochet off the metal, but I don’t hear any yells of pain from anyone in the vehicle.
The sound of a terrified mother and child soon fills the vehicle.
“Everyone okay back there?”
“We’re all in one piece,” Dani answers with frantic concern.
I look into the back seat to see Dani looking at me with her dark eyes. She’s scared—who wouldn’t be?—but still resolute.
It’s admirable. Even if it’s foolish.
Over the last several weeks, I’ve learned that’s about par for the course when it comes to Dani.
I think that’s why I’ve taken such a liking to her, even as I try to deny it.
“Thank god you drive as good as you shoot,” I say with a forced laugh as I look over to Manticore.
The man doesn’t say a word in response, but I do see the hint of a lopsided smirk pull at the corner of his lips.
Thankfully, we get to our hotel without any further incident.
Dani and I get out of the SUV, but Manticore remains with the woman and her child. It was decided on the drive over that he would look after them while I forge them some new documents to get them out of the country.
“I’ll get them to the safe house,” he says.
“And I’ll have some new papers for them for the morning.”
I leave my rifle behind as I watch Manticore drive off.
A handful of other reporters from around the world are in the process of checking out and leaving just as Dani and I walk in. They know the mounting danger coming and don’t want to get caught in the inevitable crossfire.
And neither do I.
Which is why I plan on getting Dani out of the country first thing in the fucking morning.
Not only would it look bad on my track record, but I genuinely care about her.
I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the way, I developed actual feelings for Danielle.
And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let her stick around and die for her story.
As important as it is, it’s not worth her life.