Before The Storm (The Hunters: Origins Book 1)

by Chris Kuzneski

  Cobb glanced at Payne. “Is he always like this?”

  “More than you can possibly imagine.”

  Jones flipped off Payne, who returned the favor.

  Cobb smiled and put his hand on Jones’s shoulder. “For the record, I started to say, ‘Can I get you a drink?’ when Jon rudely cut me off. And the only reason I didn’t get three mugs is because I couldn’t carry three and a pitcher by myself.”

  “What do you mean? Where was Jon?”

  “He was saving us a table.”

  Jones glanced around the empty room. “From whom?”

  Cobb grimaced. “That’s a very good point.”

  “So,” Jones said, “let me see if I got this straight: the billionaire made me drop him off at the entrance, then he made you—a guy who just lost his fuckin’ job—buy the beer, and he didn’t even offer to carry it to the table?”

  “Nope. He even whined about it when I tried to save you some.”

  “The selfish prick.”

  Cobb glanced at Payne. “I have to admit, he has a very strong case against you.”

  Payne rolled his eyes at the theatrics. He wasn’t the least bit offended by Jones’s insults because they were completely unfounded. After all, Payne had paid for the private jet that had brought them there, rented their luxury SUV, and booked a large suite at the Grand Hyatt because Jones wanted to stay on the water.

  But Payne was willing to play along.

  “Fine,” he said begrudgingly, “I’ll buy the next round.”

  “And?” Jones prodded.

  “And, what?”

  “What about dinner?”

  “Fine! I’ll pay for dinner, too. But I get to choose the restaurant.”

  “No,” Jones said, “Jack gets to choose the restaurant.”

  “Fair enough. We’re here for Jack, so Jack chooses the restaurant.”

  Jones grinned. “And Jack chooses the Island Way Grill.”

  Cobb looked at him, confused. “I do?”

  “Trust me,” Jones said, “you’ll love the scenery.”

  Cobb shrugged. “The Island Way Grill, it is.”

  “But that’s later. In the meantime, Jon is going to buy us a pitcher of beer and fetch me a frosted mug while you and I catch up.”

  Payne gave him a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”

  “And bring me some nachos with cheese and bacon. I’m on vacation.”

  Payne saluted him again—this time with his middle finger—before he left the room. Jones quickly took Payne’s chair because he knew it would piss him off.

  “So,” Jones said to Cobb, “why are you so happy?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Don’t get me wrong: I didn’t expect you to be sobbing—because, as you know, robots can’t cry. But I did expect you to be angry as hell.”

  “First of all,” Cobb said, “enough with the robot shit.”

  “Sore subject. Duly noted.”

  “Secondly, I’ve been pissed at the world for several months now, and my trip to MacDill certainly didn’t help my mood. Talk about humiliating.”

  “Yeah,” Jones said as he cleaned the rim of Payne’s mug with his tank top before taking a swig of beer. “Sorry you had to go through that, but look on the bright side: you can make a lot more money in the private sector.”

  “Doing what?”

  “With your skills and training, you can work as a mercenary in any country in the world. Trust me, there are plenty of top-paying jobs out there for soldiers like you.”

  “Maybe so, but I think you’re forgetting about my discharge.”

  Jones waved it off with a brush of his hand. “Believe it or not, some people will view that as a positive. Seriously, if you’re looking for a merc, would you rather hire a squeaky clean cadet or someone who is willing to get his hands dirty?”

  Cobb shrugged. “Depends on the job.”

  “True. If I’m hiring a bodyguard to protect my family, I’d choose Captain America. But if I’m looking for someone to kill a dictator, I’d hire the Winter Soldier.”

  Cobb stared at him. “Who the hell is the Winter Soldier?”

  Jones laughed. “You are, if you grow your hair out.”

  Chapter 8

  Payne returned with a pitcher of beer and a frosted mug then waited impatiently for Jones to get out of his chair. “What’d I miss?”

  “My nachos,” Jones muttered. “Where the hell are my nachos?”

  “Relax, princess, I ordered them. I meant, what were you discussing?”

  “Jobs,” Cobb replied.

  Payne grinned. “Please tell me you’re reconsidering my offer.”

  “What offer?” Jones asked.

  Cobb laughed. “He wants me to cut his grass.”

  “Dude,” Jones said, “you should totally do it. Jon’s yard is so large that mowing is a full-time job. By the time you finish the back, it’s time to start again in the front.”

  “No thanks. I’ll pass.”

  “Come to think of it, that’s probably a wise choice. I mean, who wants an asshole for his boss?”

  Payne ignored the insult and chose to focus on Jones’s previous statement. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you just broke your code and referred to Jack as ‘dude’.”

  Jones froze. “What? No, I didn’t!”

  Cobb nodded. “Actually, you did. You called me ‘dude’.”

  Jones cursed under his breath. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to use the d-word. I swear it won’t happen again.”

  “No worries. I’ve been called worse.”

  Payne laughed. “Actually, according to Martin Luther Jones over there, you haven’t. You’ve heard of the ‘bro code’, right? A list of rules that guys shouldn’t violate?”

  “You mean, like, ‘bros before hoes’. That sort of thing?”

  Payne nodded. “Well, DJ created an ‘Afro code’—a list of rules that he’s not allowed to violate for any reason.”

  “Why?” Cobb asked.

  “Because he hangs around so many white people he’s afraid he’s going to lose his blackness. And guess what?”

  “What?”

  “Rule number one involves the word ‘dude’.”

  Jones nodded in shame. “It’s the whitest word in the history of the world. Unless we’re mocking a honky, there’s simply no reason a black man should use it.”

  Payne shook his head in mock disgust. “You’re right. There isn’t.”

  “That said, if I needed an excuse, it would definitely be you.”

  “Me? What’d I do?”

  “You failed to tell me about this back room, which forced me to mingle with surfers while being serenaded by Justin Bieber’s uncle. No wonder I slipped. Osmosis.”

  Payne grinned. “Wasn’t that a Chris Rock movie?”

  “What?”

  “Osmosis Jones.”

  Jones laughed. “As a matter of fact, it was.”

  Cobb’s knowledge of pop culture was severely lacking, so he quickly changed the subject. “As much as I’d love to hear you guys crack jokes about movies I’ve never heard of, I was hoping we could get back to the original topic.”

  Payne sat down. “Which was?”

  “Work,” Cobb answered. “I was getting ready to ask DJ the same thing I asked of you: a glowing letter of recommendation. Of course, if you guys are feeling extra generous, perhaps you’d be willing to call your friends to see if they had any openings for someone with my skill set. Preferably something involving guns.”

  “We’d be happy to,” Payne said, “under one condition.”

  “Go on.”

  “Just admit a Navy man and an Air Force grad saved your Army ass.”

  Jones laughed. “And not necessarily in that order.”

  Cobb shook his head. “Screw that. I hear Walmart is hiring.”

  “I’d pay top dollar to see you work there.”

  “Me, too,” Payne said before switching to his robot voice. “Hello. Welcome to Walmart. I can
scan your coupons with my eyes.”

  Jones joined in. “To pay, slide your card between my cheeks. Wow, that felt good. Please pay me again. Oh no, here comes your change.”

  Cobb laughed at their antics. Though he was tempted to fight back, he knew if he argued with them, they would only gang up on him. So he did the next best thing. He defused the situation by making them feel guilty. “Fine. I admit it. My life is so fucked up right now I have no other option but to ask a Navy man and an Air Force grad for help. So that’s what I’m doing. I’m asking you guys for help despite your mockery.”

  Jones grimaced. “Damn, dude, when you put it like that—”

  Payne gasped. “DJ, you did it again.”

  “Did what again?”

  A moment passed before Jones realized his mistake.

  He had repeated the d-word.

  To vent his frustration, he buried his face in his hands and unleashed a stream of obscenities that would make Samuel L. Jackson blush. While the verbal barrage continued, the door to the back room swung open and two women walked in. One was a server, carrying nachos. The other was Nicki, who had changed into a T-shirt and shorts.

  Both approached the table with trepidation.

  Payne elbowed Jones in the ribs to warn him.

  But Jones continued. Unaware of their presence, he screamed a few more vulgarities before he finally looked up. Much to his surprise, they were no longer alone.

  The server practically threw the nachos on the table before hustling away.

  Meanwhile, Nicki stared at Jones. “Did I come at a bad time?”

  Despite his brown complexion, his cheeks turned a deep shade of red. Normally fast on his feet, Jones tried to come up with an explanation for his childish behavior, but all that came out of his mouth was a slight murmuring sound. Payne felt so bad for him that he immediately rushed to his aid.

  “Sorry about that,” Payne said as he stood to introduce himself. “DJ just got some bad news from work, and we encouraged him to vent. Please don’t hold it against him.”

  She looked at Jones, concerned. “Are you okay?”

  Jones was still too embarrassed to speak, so he simply nodded.

  Payne stuck out his hand. “Sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met. My name is Jonathon Payne. And this is my good friend, Jackson Cobb.”

  Cobb stood and offered his hand as well.

  “Such gentlemen,” she said as she shook their hands. “I’m Nicole Bergen, but you can call me Nicki.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nicki. Please call me Jon.”

  “And I’m Jack.”

  “The pleasure’s all mine,” she assured them. “Well, not all mine. My friends are going to be thrilled. They definitely hit the mother lode with you two.”

  Payne and Cobb exchanged glances. They were obviously confused.

  And Nicki noticed.

  “Awkward,” she said with a nervous laugh. “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you? I guess DJ got his bad news before he had a chance to tell you.”

  Everyone glanced at Jones, who simply shrugged.

  “In that case,” she said as she backed away, “why don’t you guys pretend you never saw me, and I’ll just sneak out of here before I make a bigger fool of myself.”

  Payne hustled after her. “Nonsense! Please, sit and have a beer with us. It’ll be great. We can take turns making fun of DJ until he regains his ability to speak.”

  “That does sound like fun.”

  “Trust me, I’m his best friend. The less he says, the more you’ll like him.”

  She glanced outside. “I wish I could, but we’re trying to get out of here before the storm. I just wanted to make sure we’re still on for dinner.”

  Payne pieced things together in his head. “Oh! The Island Way Grill. Now I get it!”

  “So, he did mention it.”

  “In a DJ sort of way, yes. What time?”

  “Let’s say seven.”

  “Works for us. I’ll make the reservation. How many total?”

  “Counting you guys? Um…thirteen.”

  Payne glanced back at Jones, who shrugged again. Considering the number of women Jones had invited, Payne wasn’t sure if he should be impressed by his audacity or pissed for the potential size of the check. “The more, the merrier.”

  “Great,” she said with a smile. “We’re looking forward to it.”

  “Me, too,” Payne said. “Sure you can’t stay for a drink?”

  “Sorry. My girls are waiting for me.”

  Payne pointed at his friends. “So are mine.”

  Chapter 9

  They waited for Nicki to leave the room before a single word was said. The instant the door clicked shut, their emotions came pouring out.

  Payne spoke first. “David Joseph Jones, I’ve been on countless missions with you around the globe and I’ve seen you risk your ass for me and our squad on a number of occasions, but I swear on Jack’s life, I have never been prouder of you.”

  Cobb shook his head in amazement. “Did she say thirteen?”

  Jones quickly found his voice. He put his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair. “She certainly did. And I’m not talking about Snow White and nine ugly dwarves. I’m talking about ten tens. If my math is correct, that’s a hundred.”

  “How in the hell did you do that?” Cobb demanded.

  “Just multiply ten times ten and you get—”

  “No,” Cobb said. “How did you ask out ten women at the same time?”

  Jones scoffed at the question. “A magician never reveals his secrets.”

  Payne grinned. “I’m thinking gunpoint.”

  Cobb laughed loudly. “Truth be told, she did seem kind of scared when she entered the room, but if I had to guess, I’d say hypnotism and/or hallucinogenics.”

  “Or all three.”

  Jones shrugged off their insults as he reached for the nachos. He grabbed a chip and stuffed it in his mouth as sour cream smeared all over his lips. “Come on, guys. Is it really that hard to believe that women love me?”

  “Considering the amount of food on your face, yes!”

  Cobb stroked his chin in thought. “You know, there’s another possibility that we haven’t considered. But if you evaluate all the evidence before us and consider the sheer numbers involved, I think it makes the most sense.”

  “What’s that?”

  “They’re escorts.”

  Payne laughed at the possibility. “How awesome would that be if we showed up for dinner and they handed DJ an invoice for their time?”

  Cobb stared at Jones. “Serious question. Did you invite them or rent them?”

  Jones wiped his mouth. “Guys, they’re not escorts. Nicki’s a lawyer!”

  “And the others?”

  “They’re, um…hot! I didn’t have time to ask for their résumés.”

  “In other words,” Payne said, “there’s a chance they’re prostitutes. For the record, I agreed to pay for dinner—not companionship.”

  Jones grabbed another chip. “Listen, if you’re so worried about the women, Jack and I will gladly go to dinner without you. Remember, we’re here to cheer him up, so quit being so selfish.”

  “You’re right. We’re here for Jack. And if he wants to bang a hooker in a restaurant bathroom, who am I to stop him?”

  “Exactly!” Jones said.

  “The bigger issue is if I should stop you before Maria finds out.”

  Jones shook his head. “Maria doesn’t matter.”

  “Oh, really? Does she know that?”

  Jones quickly backtracked. “Now don’t go putting words in my mouth. You know damn well Maria matters. Of course, she matters. But right now we’re separated, so I can date whoever the hell I want.”

  “Including hookers?”

  “Nicki’s a lawyer. The hookers are for Jack.”

  “So they are hookers!”

  Jones was done arguing. “Truth be told, I don’t care if they are. They w
ere sexy and seemed friendly, so I invited them to dinner. Quit being such a prude.”

  Cobb was confused. “Hold up. Who’s Maria?”

  Jones stuffed the chip in his mouth. “Can’t talk. I’m eating.”

  Payne smiled. His best friend avoided the topic whenever possible. “She’s an archaeologist we met on one of our adventures. The two of them hit it off and have been in a long-distance, on-and-off, incredibly perplexing relationship ever since.”

  “Define perplexing,” Cobb said.

  “Let me put it like this. Their dating status changes more often than DJ changes his underwear.”

  “So…once a month?”

  “Give or take.”

  Jones kept chewing. “Who says I wear underwear?”

  Payne and Cobb grimaced at the thought.

  “Guys,” Jones explained, “I’m wearing a bathing suit. It would be weird if I was wearing underwear.”

  “No,” Payne said, “it’s weird that you brought it up.”

  “I didn’t bring it up! You brought it up!”

  “But you made it weird.”

  Cobb ignored their banter and focused on Payne’s original statement. “Next question. What type of ‘adventure’ were you referring to? You used that word earlier, and I got the sense you were talking about something more than a vacation.”

  “Actually,” Payne admitted, “that one started off as a vacation. We went to Pamplona to run with the bulls but ended up in jail on some trumped-up charges. We were offered a deal by some agents from the CIA, who would vouch for us if we were willing to assist them with a case. Before we knew it, we were chasing a fugitive across Europe.”

  “And that’s when you met Maria?”

  Jones nodded. “Yep. In Milan.”

  “We also found an artifact of profound significance, but we don’t like to brag.”

  “Actually,” Jones said as he stuffed another chip in his mouth, “I love to brag, but I don’t want to make you feel any more inferior than you already do.”

  “And you’ve gone on how many of these adventures?”