Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50 | 51 | 52 | 53 | 54 | 55 | 56 | 57 | 58 | 59 | 60 | 61 | 62 | 63 | 64 | 65 | 66 | 67
Jacob’s Point of View
“I wanted to kill him, Claude.”
“I know, brother, but he wasn’t worth it, and anyway, you and Kate outfoxed and boxed Craig in a way he’ll never forget. Such a total wanker he was.”
I swigged my beer and thought about what my friend said. The word wanker meant so much more in England than in the USA. It was one of the good things I had imported. Hell, I even had a Frenchman saying it.
“He was a coward, Claude.”
“How many times did you see that happen on deployment, Jacob? The weak prey on the vulnerable every time, but this was a good day because justice was served up, my friend.”
“Yes. Alicia made me very proud to be her father.”
“You and Kate were awesome brother.”
“Yes. I was proud of my wife, too. She’s like a force of nature.”
We rested amongst a stack of fresh hay at the Granger Hall stables, having cracked open a couple of ice-cold beers. Claude was piqued and highly agitated by the prospect of combat, giving rise to heated blood and a desire to kill that eventually went unquenched. I felt the same way, having closed in on Craig with part of me hoping he might take a wrong step so I could apply the neck-breaking choke hold I’d repeatedly practiced in my mind.