Outcast
The shooter aimed carefully and squeezed the trigger. One dead. He squeezed again. A second victim dropped in his tracks. He held his breath and squeezed a third time. As the third victim fell to the ground, he whispered, "Gotcha!"
The teenage boy standing next to him whistled in appreciation. "You're a crazy man with that gun."
Ben Benedict, former military sniper, grinned as he blew off imaginary smoke at the end of his plastic M1911 Colt .45 and shoved the gun back into its plastic holster on the arcade video machine. "That's me. Your average lunatic with a gun. But you notice I won."
The thirteen-year-old playing "House of the Dead" with Ben laughed. "Really, man, you're loco. I've never seen anybody shoot like you. You never miss."
Ben accepted the compliment without bothering to deny the charge of insanity. It was entirely possible the kid was right.
Ben had done his best to hide the nightmares, the night sweats, the daytime flashbacks, the trembling that started without warning and ended just as mysteriously, from his family and his new boss at Immigration and Customs Enforcement, called ICE, the largest branch of the Department of Homeland Security.
As far as Ben kne ... read full excerpt from: Outcast ebook
