Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 64938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
His father would be so disappointed to see what he’d done to his career, to his life.
All Matthew had ever done was study and work hard to be as great as his father. They were supposed to open a practice together…or a clinic. Travel the world treating the disadvantaged, one country at a time.
His father had been his best friend, confidant, and mentor. And his mom, well, his mother had been compassion, gentleness, and grace personified.
Matthew choked on his grief as he again got lost in his depressing thoughts.
His parents had been the most kindhearted people in the world, who’d given tirelessly to anyone in need while ignoring their own.
Two of the best critical-care specialists the United States military had ever enlisted.
They’d served their country for twenty-four years, healing wounded soldiers before retiring and continuing to use their skills and empathy on those less fortunate.
While Matthew spent years in school, in the States and abroad, his parents had traveled two hundred and sixty-five days a year with Médecins Sans Frontières.
And for their selflessness, they’d been killed.
Matthew couldn’t even bury them properly. There’d been no bodies to identify or cry over.
He had no closure, no answers from the government…no justice.
His commander had sent him back stateside for the funeral, emotionally paralyzed and overwhelmed with grief.
Matthew closed his eyes and relived the days before his life changed forever.
“I can see your mind battling to remember the pain.”
Because it’s all I have left of them.
“Don’t go back, Dr. Adams. There’s nothing for you there. Leave your past behind, and let me give you the future you deserve. One where you can make a real difference in the world like your parents did.”
You’re a shitty-as-fuck therapist. That ship has sailed.
Matthew wouldn’t accept false hope.
“You could be a man with great power and abilities.” The stranger’s voice faded as Matthew careened into an abyss of darkness. “You’d be part of a new era of espionage and warfare, one free of government manipulation.”
Nor would Matthew listen to empty promises.
The bad therapist’s words became jumbled gurgles as Matthew thought of the day when he gave up on life.
Mirage
Four months ago…
Besides the required military personnel, Matthew had been the only one in attendance at his parents’ funeral.
Their friends, colleagues, not to mention the countless soldiers they’d saved, were too fucking selfish to come, easing their consciences by convincing themselves that his parents would’ve wanted them to stay where they were and continue saving lives instead of traveling thousands of miles to pay respect to theirs.
Matthew stood with the clergy and the uniformed personnel who rendered the salute in front of two caskets draped with the American flag.
He was in uniform, staring somberly at tomb markers at the head of side-by-side plots.
Matthew hadn’t even begun to process they were gone—nor grieve—before he stormed into the Virginia military casualty affairs office demanding answers.
He was given the runaround for weeks before an officer had availability to meet with him.
Seclusion, morbid thoughts, and gallons of rum were how he occupied his time while waiting.
He sat on the opposite side of a captain’s cluttered desk for several long, silent minutes, desperate but terrified of the specifics he had to know. The man looked him dead in the eye and muttered, “The details of the medical facility raids in South Africa are classified. Sorry to disappoint you, Lieutenant.”
The officer flipped through a few papers, then handed Matthew a stack of stapled pages with ninety percent of the information blacked out.
“What the fuck is this?” Matthew scanned the unreadable evidence.
“I understand you’re upset, but watch your language, son.”
Matthew leapt to his feet, feeling as if his head was about to explode. “Don’t you dare call me ‘son.’”
“Lieutenant Adams, take your seat and—”
“I want to know what happened to my parents! And what the hell is being done about the militia that targeted their facility!”
Rage rolled off him in waves, and he couldn’t stop the tsunami rushing to drown him.
“You have five seconds to calm yourself, Lieutenant. Remember where you are and that you’re addressing a superior officer.”
“Fuck you!”
The captain picked up his desk phone and pushed a couple of buttons before gritting out to whoever picked up, “Get me the MPs.”
“Is the government doing anything about the deaths of dozens of military physicians? Not to mention the American civilians being bombed in what’s supposed to be secured locations.” Matthew yanked the receiver out of the captain’s hand and slammed it back in its cradle. “Answer me, dammit!”
The officer’s jowls turned red as he scowled at Matthew from under a hairy unibrow.
“That is classified, Lieutenant Adams, and that’s all I’m at liberty to disclose.” The captain shut the file. “Now, I suggest you go home and utilize your bereavement leave in the way befitting a lieutenant in the United States Navy before I have you apprehended and reported to your commander.”