Noble Intentions: Season One Page 39

  "It's good," Charles said. "Oh, it's good."

  Pierre leaned against the concrete wall, figuring Charles would tell him when he was ready. If he told him at all, that is.

  "Go across the bridge, Missy." Charles walked over to Pierre, leaned against the bridge mirroring Pierre's stance. "You and Mr. Noble, you're friends right?"

  "Yeah," Pierre said, trying his best to keep the worry off his face.

  "I guess I should say were friends."

  "What do you mean?"

  "He died in prison yesterday."

  Pierre dropped his head, closed his eyes. He fought back the tears that welled up behind his shut eyelids. He felt Charles's large hand wrap around his shoulder.

  "While I might be happy, I do know how you feel. My condolences."

  Pierre looked up through watery eyes. "I'll do whatever you need."

  "I'll be in touch," Charles said.

  19

  Clarissa sat in the swinging chair that hung from the porch ceiling. She watched Mandy as the little girl played in the front yard with a couple kids that lived across the street. Bear sat back in a wicker rocking chair, reading a book.

  What an odd little family.

  She cherished these moments, nothing happening, completely bored. And she didn't mind one bit. Not after the month she’d had.

  "Whew," Bear said. "That was a good friggin’ book."

  She looked at him and smiled, turned her attention back to Mandy. A cool breeze passed through every few minutes, chilling her face. The setting sun warmed her cheeks when the wind died down. The sensation swept through her, leaving her calm and tranquil.

  Bear's obnoxious ringtone went off, interrupting the moment.

  "Yeah," he said into the phone.

  Clarissa studied him as he stood up and turned to her. His face drew tight and he disappeared into the house. She got up and walked to the door, trying to listen in, but he must have gone out through the back door.

  "Mandy," Clarissa said. "It's time to come in."

  "But I don't wanna," Mandy said.

  Clarissa looked back inside. Still not there. She fought back the pangs of panic.

  Mandy continued to play in the yard.

  Clarissa scanned the street looking for anything or anyone out of the ordinary.

  "Mandy," she said again. "Come on. I need you to—"

  "Clarissa," Bear said from behind her. The screen door slammed shut.

  She straightened up and turned around, expecting to see fear or concern spread across Bear's face. Instead he looked at her with tears in his eyes and streaking down his cheek, settling into his beard.

  "What? What is it?"

  "Jack." Bear paused to wipe his face with his sleeve. "He's gone."

  "What do you mean gone?" Clarissa stepped back, reaching behind her for something to steady herself on. Her knees felt weak, her head light.

  "He's gone, Clarissa."

  She dropped to her knees. "No, no, no..."

  Bear dropped to his knees and pulled her close, wrapping her up in his arms. They cried together.

  "What's the matter?" Mandy said from behind.

  "Oh, baby," Clarissa said. "Come here."

  Mandy wrapped her arms around Clarissa's neck, placed her chin on top of her head.

  "Mr. Jack," Clarissa paused, looked to Bear for help.

  Bear shook his head and looked away. His big body heaving as he fought through the pain.

  "He's passed away, sweetie."

  Mandy stroked Clarissa's head. "I'm sorry, Clarissa."

  They barely spoke the rest of the night. Bear had left for a while, leaving Mandy and Clarissa alone. She held the girl close to her as they watched TV. She checked her phone every few minutes, hoping for a call or a text from Jack saying it was all a big mistake and he's OK. Alive. On his way to get her and take her away.

  It never happened, though.

  Finally, Mandy fell asleep.

  Clarissa slipped outside and pulled out her phone. This time she placed a call.

  "Hello, Clarissa," Sinclair said.

  Clarissa stood, silent, the phone to her head.

  "Are you there?" he said.

  "Jack's dead," Clarissa said.

  Sinclair cleared his throat. "Sorry to hear that. He was a good man."

  "He was."

  Sinclair said nothing.

  "Are you going to do anything?" she asked.

  "What can I do? Start a war with Russia over the death of a hitman?"

  Clarissa said nothing.

  "Join us and maybe you'll have a chance to avenge his death."

  Clarissa paced the porch, stopped, looked up at the full moon. "I'm in."

  "Excellent. We'll be up to collect you in the morning."

  "I'm not at my apartment."

  "I know."

  The phone went silent.

  Bear's car pulled into the driveway. He stepped out and lumbered up the stairs, joined her at the edge of the porch.

  She leaned into him, noticing that he reeked of alcohol.

  "Leaving?" he asked.

  "Yeah," she said.

  "Want to tell me where to?"

  "No," she said.

  20

  A gasp forced shriveled lungs to overfill with air, stretching them to maximum capacity. A struggle to exhale ensued. He gasped to fill his lungs a second time. A burning sensation tore through his chest as his heart erupted to life and began pumping blood through his veins at over 120 beats per minute, sending much needed oxygen to his brain and other vital organs.

  His cold body tingled with sensation as his blood vessels and capillaries filled. Deadened nerves returned to life, screaming out in pain and pleasure at the same time.

  He tried to sit up, but found himself confined, unable to move more than a few inches up, down, left or right.

  He took a second, allowed his body to return to normal and let his all sense except for his sight, which was no good in this dark place, take over.

  Jack Noble steadied himself.

  Controlled his breathing.

  Took possession of his mind from the doubts and fears that ruin most men.

  His sense of touch restored, he felt a cold, metal object in his hand. He played with the object, sliding it up and down. A rubber tab stuck out near one end. He pushed down and the space filled with light, a light so bright that he initially had to blink away the pain in his eyes while they adjusted to it.

  He looked left, right, up and back at the panels of wood surrounding him.

  Where the hell am I?

  He made a fist with his other hand, felt and heard the paper crinkling.

  He drew his hand up to his chest, pulled the flashlight over his head, focusing the beam on the paper. It was a letter from Frank.

  Nice of him, Jack thought, considering he's the one that gave me the job in Paris to kill Foster.

  Jack,

  Sorry about killing you. It's the only way we could get you out of that hell hole. As you've guessed by now, you didn't really die. In the event that you haven't guessed, no, this isn't Heaven. You are alive. I'll give you the details later, if you want them. In the meantime, try to relax. You are in a pine coffin in the back of a box truck heading south through Russia. You may or may not hear gunfire along the way. Chances are it's the good guys firing the guns. If it's the bad guys, well, at least you already know what death feels like.

  See you soon,

  Frank

  Jack closed his eyes, feeling the slight vibrations as the truck rolled along. He smiled. Someone did like him after all.

  The truck stopped. Russian voices, one familiar sounding, echoed through the back of the truck and into the pine box. An argument ensued. Two shots ripped through the air. A door opened then closed. Another door opened, followed by two thuds, like the sound of bodies hitting the ground. A rap against the side of the truck filled the silent void.

  Clicks and clanks filled Jack's ears. He pictured the man outside the truck, unlocking the door
, heaving it up. He saw the door rolling up in his mind as the sounds of metal squealing against metal reverberated through the coffin.

  Was he friend or foe?

  "Wake up, Jack," the man said.

  He knew the voice. It wasn't Frank, though. This was a Russian voice.

  Alik.

  Something smashed against the other end of the coffin. A crack formed in the wood, just a sliver. Sunlight spread through the coffin and filled Jack's eyes.

  "You're a ghost now," Alik said. "And you're free."

  I am free. A living ghost.

  A smile swept over Jack's face as he waited patiently for the lid to be pried open.

  The End… of Season One. Jack Noble is be back in Noble Intentions Season Two (link below).

  Sign up for L.T. Ryan’s new release newsletter and be the first to find out when new Jack Noble novels are published (and usually at a discount for the first 48 hours). To sign up, simply fill out the form on the following page:

  http://ltryan.com/newsletter/

  As a thank you for signing up, you’ll receive a complimentary copy of The Recruit: A Jack Noble Short Story.

  If you enjoyed reading Noble Intentions: Season One, I would appreciate it if you would help others enjoy this book, too.

  Lend it. This e-book is lending-enabled, so please, share it with a friend.

  Recommend it. Please help other readers find this book by recommending it to friends, readers’ groups and discussion boards.

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  Like Jack. Visit the Jack Noble Facebook page and give it a like: https://www.facebook.com/JackNobleBooks.

  Noble Intentions: Season Two (Episodes 6-10) is now available here:

  http://www.amazon.com/Noble-Intentions-Season-Episodes-ebook/dp/B00AVMTF8U/

  Also Available: Noble Intentions: Season Three (Episodes 11-15):

  http://www.amazon.com/kindle/dp/B00CXXUGIS

  Other Books by L.T. Ryan

  Jack Noble Series in Order

  Noble Beginnings

  A Deadly Distance

  Noble Intentions Season One

  Noble Intentions Season Two

  Noble Intentions Season Three

  Never Go Home

  Untitled (Clarissa Abbot) - Coming October, 2013

  Noble Intentions Season Four - Coming December, 2013

  Mitch Tanner Series

  The Depth of Darkness

  Mitch Tanner #2 - Coming November, 2013

  Mitch Tanner #3 - Coming January, 2014

  Affliction Z Series

  Affliction Z: Patient Zero

  Affliction Z: Abandoned Hope

  Affliction Z: Book Three - Coming April, 2014

  Noble Beginnings: A Jack Noble Novel - (excerpt below)

  In March of 2002, while the eyes of the world focused on Afghanistan, Jack Noble finds himself on the outskirts of Baghdad, Iraq. A Marine in name only, Jack is on-loan to the CIA. Normally an integral part of the team, he finds that he is nothing more than a security detail in Iraq.

  Jack and his partner Bear have a run-in with four CIA special agents over the treatment of an Iraqi family. Within hours Jack and Bear are detained.

  All Jack wanted was to finish his enlistment and move on with his life. All he did was intervene and save a family from unwarranted violence at the hands of four CIA agents. But he soon discovers that he did far more than intervene. He has placed himself dead square in the middle of a conspiracy that reaches the highest levels of the U.S. government.

  http://www.amazon.com/Noble-Beginnings-Jack-Novel-ebook/dp/B009K8RHNQ

  A Deadly Distance (Jack Noble #2)

  Washington, D.C. Midday. A man waits at a bus stop, his intentions unknown. Two government operatives have been stalking him for days, waiting for him to make his move. Unexpectedly, the man takes off running and heads for a deserted warehouse.

  Jack Noble and his partner, Frank Skinner, believe the man to be part of a terrorist organization that is involved in smuggling drugs and guns and men into the country. But it turns out their plan involves far more export than import, and hits a lot closer to home.

  As the case unfolds, the man behind it all reaches out to Jack with a simple message... 37 hours.

  http://www.amazon.com/Deadly-Distance-Jack-Noble-ebook/dp/B00B8548LS/

  Also Available:

  A Deadly Distance (Jack Noble #2)

  The Recruit: A Jack Noble Short Story

  Connect on Facebook. Visit http://LTRYAN.com/like-jack to like Jack Noble’s Facebook page and stay up to date.

  Excerpt from Noble Beginnings: A Jack Noble Novel

  Now Available: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B009K8RHNQ

  Chapter 1

  Baghdad, Iraq. March, 2002

  I leaned back against a weathered stone wall. Muffled voices slipped through the cracked door. The night air felt cool against my sweat-covered forehead. A light breeze carried with it the smell of raw sewage. Orange tinted smoke from a distant fire rose high into the sky. Wisps of smoke streaked across the full moon ahead of the mass of artificial cloud cover. The thick smoke threatened to block the moonlight I used to keep watch over the sleepy street while the CIA special operations team did their job inside the house. The smart team leaders kept me involved. The dumb ones left me outside to guard the entrance.

  Eight years on the job. Best gig I ever had. Then Bin Laden attacked the U.S. Forty-eight hours later everything had changed. Most teams were deployed to Afghanistan. Bear and I were sent to Iraq. We’d spent six months raiding houses just like this one inside and on the outskirts of Baghdad. And just like tonight, we were kept outside the house.

  The only connection we had with the Marine Corps was the ten Marines over here with us. We only saw them a couple times a week. I had no idea where the rest of our Marine brethren were. Didn’t care. They didn’t consider us Marines any more than we considered them brethren.

  “Jack?” Bear said.

  Bear had been my partner and best friend since our last day of recruit training. A recruit training experience cut four weeks short.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “I’m tired of this.”

  I turned my head. Kept my M16 pointing forward. Bear stared out into the distance. The faint orange glow of the fire cloud reflected off the sheen of sweat across his face.

  “They just keep us posted outside,” he said. “Ain’t never treated us like this.”

  I shrugged. He was right. But there was nothing we could do about it. Bear and I were on loan to the CIA and had to do whatever we were told. Before 9/11, we were part of the team. But the CIA agents we normally worked with stayed behind in the U.S. and Europe. The teams over here weren’t used to having two Marines with them and they weren’t receptive to the idea.

  “What do you suggest we do?” I said. “Quit?”

  Bear shook his head and straightened his six foot six body. He shifted his M16 in his hands and walked toward the end of the house. Beyond his large frame I spotted a group of men. Figured that was why Bear went on high alert.

  There were six of them huddled together. They spoke in whispers and appeared to look in our direction. Another three men walked toward the group. From this distance they didn’t appear to be armed, but they had the cover of night on their side. Best to assume they were prepared to wreak havoc on our position.

  “What do you make of that?” I asked.

  Bear looked back at me with narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw.

  “Trouble.”

  Trouble indeed. Trouble lingered everywhere in this damn city. No one trusted us. Every time I turned a corner I worried someone would be standing there waiting to take me out. The only person I could trust in Iraq was Bear. The CIA spec ops teams we’d been attached to looked down on us. They all seemed to be waiting for the right moment to drop u
s. Hell, for all I knew, they were inside that house negotiating our arrest.

  Bear cleared his throat. Pointed toward the group. The nine men fanned out and approached our position. The sound of their voices rose from a murmur to light chatter. I made out distinct sounds. Despite being in Iraq for the past six months, I had a weak grasp on the language.

  “What are they saying?” I asked.

  Bear held up his hand, fingers outstretched. He cocked his head like he was looking up at the moon. His body crouched into a defensive position. The barrel of the M16 rose to waist level. He reached out with his left hand to support the heavy gun. I did the same. We both preferred the M16A3 because of its fully automatic firing capabilities in addition to single shot and semi-automatic options. The A3 was a much better option for security teams than the Marine standard issue A4. We could drop the entire group of men in under five seconds if we chose to do so.

  “Talk to me, Bear,” I said.

  He took three slow steps back, blocking my view of part of the street. He yelled something in Arabic.

  The group stopped their advance. One man stepped forward. His tall, gangly body stood out from the short stocky men in the group. He lifted his arms, a handgun clutched in his right hand. I tensed and tapped my finger against the M16’s trigger. The harsh sounds of words spoken in Arabic filled the air. They echoed through the street. Then silence penetrated.

  Bear turned to look at me. Smiled. Looked back at the men. He shouted in Arabic again and lifted his M16 to his shoulder.

  The tall Iraqi raised his arms once again. He had put his gun away. He turned his back to us, said something to the group of men and started walking away. The mob held their positions for a moment. The tall man pushed through the men. He spoke to them in an authoritative tone, his voice rising to a yell. They turned and followed him. A few looked back at us over their shoulders.