Chapter 1
Kynan
Jerico must really want something big from me to spring for such an extravagant meal. It’s not the first time I’ve eaten at The Ledbury but I definitely don’t make it a habit. Trendy Notting Hill fine dining isn’t high up on my list of things that make my world go round.
But Jerico knows that. He and I have shared many an MRE in the hills of Afghanistan as our country’s military forces combined and worked together to flush the Taliban out. We’re both former marines but Jerico served the stars and stripes and I served the Queen of England. Just as our countries were strong allies, so too were Jerico and I.
I approach the maître d’s podium and smile at the lovely blonde behind it. “8PM reservation. Jameson.”
“Of course, Mr. McGrath,” she replies with an elegant incline of her head that doesn’t match the East End, Cockney accent that she tries to hide. “Mr. Jameson is already seated. If you’ll follow me.”
It’s no chore following the blonde who is wearing a simple black but well-fit dress through the restaurant. I keep my eyes pinned on her arse as we weave our way through tables set with the finest china and crystal available in London.
I almost run into the back of the woman when she comes to a stop beside a table that could hold four but is set for two. My gaze regretfully leaves her backside and I focus in on my buddy, Jerico Jameson, sitting there. He smirks at me, no doubt probably having watched me ogle the woman as we walked his way.
“Here you are,” the hostess says, and I give her a nod of thanks.
Jerico stands up as she pivots to leave and holds his hand out to me. I grip it hard, not to crush it but to pull him to me for a quick half-hug where we mutually pound each other on the back. We last saw each other over a year ago at Camp Leatherneck in the Helmand Province. I was shipping back to the Royal Marine base at Bickleigh Barracks, home to 42 Commando, where I’d served for the last six years.
When I’d left, Jerico was heading back out with his unit for more reconnaissance operations to locate insurgents. We’d, of course, stayed in contact and I was more than thrilled when he called to say he was in London and wanted to get together.
I release Jerico and he grins at me. “Did I detect you getting a little soft under that suit coat?”
Snorting, I unbutton said suit coat and pull a chair out to take a seat. “Let’s hit the gym tomorrow and compare bench presses, mate.”
Jerico laughs and sits down opposite me. “You actually look real good, Kynan. Civilian life agrees with you.”
I snort again because it most certainly doesn’t agree with me. While I knew I didn’t want to stay in the military anymore, I also have come to realize that I don’t want to continue working for my father’s luxury car dealership. While joining the family business is a fine way to spend my time until I figure out what the fuck I want to do in life, I’m not going to make a career out of wiping dust off Aston Martins sprawled across the showroom floor.
“I take it you’re not enjoying life as a car salesman,” Jerico ventures and then raises his hand to get a waiter’s attention.
“Yeah, not my life’s ambition,” I admit but say no more as the server approaches.
Jerico orders a scotch and I order a beer. When we’re alone again, I ask him, “And what have you been up to since you got out?”
Mostly we stay in contact via email with a few calls in between. I know Jerico officially got out of the marine corps just a few months ago, but I wasn’t sure what he’d been doing since.
“It’s funny you should ask,” he says as he leans casually back in his chair, placing one forearm on the table. “Because I’m here to offer you a job.”
My eyebrows snap upward. “What kind of job?”
Jerico shoots me a sly smile. “I thought we’d shoot the shit a bit and catch up on each other’s lives but if you want me to jump right in…?”
I’m not one to waste time. “Let’s not wag off. Tell me what you got.”
Expression turning serious, Jerico leans forward to put both arms on the table. “I’m starting up a security services firm. I have some financial backing and you’re the first person I’m offering a job to.”
I study him for a moment, noting the way his dark green eyes are unflinching as they stay pinned on me. “Security services can mean a lot of things. Give me a little more detail.”
Jerico shrugs. “Could be something as simple as protection services or security consultations.”
“And something as complex as...?”
He shrugs again but I don’t miss the twinkle in his eye. “Contract work for the government.”
“Whose government?” I press.
“Yours, mine, someone else’s,” he says nonchalantly.
I can read between the lines. He’s talking covert operations for hire by agencies like the CIA or MI6. That could be rescues or assassinations or any number of things in between. While I don’t need him to spell out those details to me, I do need to be assured we’re on the right side of things.
“What are your hard limits?” I ask him.
Jerico looks genuinely hurt I’d ask such a thing. “I won’t take candy from kids if that’s what you mean.”
I just stare at him.
There’s a flash of white teeth as he laughs at me. “Only white hat stuff. Saving people, helping to fight terrorism.”
That I could work with.
“We only assassinate really bad guys,” he adds.
That gives me pause and he must see it on my face because he raises both hands up in mock surrender to indicate he’s done teasing me. “The only government contracts I’m interested in are ones in which we’d be joining up with special ops forces. Things that are sanctioned by our governments and where they might need extra support. Those bring in high dollar compared to the risk. But honestly, I want to build the company up with a lot of domestic type of work. Like I said, security services, armed protection. Stuff like that.”
“And I’m the first you contacted?” I ask him, and I’m not sure why that’s so important to me. I know Jerico has worked with a lot of high-level military during his short career as a marine and probably has a lot of mates he’s closer to than me.
Yet here he is in London buying me a fancy dinner.
“Your experience in human intelligence is a plus, but you’re the first I asked because you’re the one I’d trust the most with my life,” he tells me, and then pulls an envelope out of the inside breast pocket of his suit coat.
Leaning forward, he hands it across the table to me at the same time our waiter returns with our drinks. Jerico picks up his scotch but I ignore my beer as I break the seal and pull out a document titled “Offer of Employment.”
I take my time to read it, noting that the salary and benefits far exceed what I could make working at a luxury car dealership. But the risk is greater too, so most of the money is considered hazardous duty pay.
“That offer to you is confidential as I’m not offering those same exact terms to other recruits,” Jerico says blandly. “But—”
“But I’ll also be the first you’ll call up for something dangerous.” I finish his sentence as I fold the document back up and slide it into the envelope. Setting it down on the table, I pick up my beer and take a sip. “It’s a good offer. Great even.”