Recluse: Spider Series, #1

Recluse

Copyright © 2017 Jaycee Ford

Published by Jaycee Ford

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

Published: Jaycee Ford

Editor: Josh Vitalie

Cover Design and Formatting: Jaycee Ford

Cover photo: KatarzynaBialasiewicz

Table of Contents

prologue

one

two

three

four

five

six

seven

eight

nine

ten

eleven

twelve

thirteen

fourteen

fifteen

sixteen

seventeen

eighteen

nineteen

acknowledgements

books by jaycee ford

about the author

To teal colored socks

HE STOOD IN front of the police station with his arms wrapped around her. He appeared sharp in his uniform, and she was clearly not dressing to impress with her hair thrown up in a messy bun, a pair of tennis shoes, worn jeans, and a coat. Seeing them together like that, it was hard not to be jealous of what they had. Jealousy was a tricky emotion sometimes, and I wasn’t sure if I was jealous of what they had or of what he had. He had the girl. He had the daughter. And he had me, the best friend who also happened to be his partner. Both of these roles left me with little choice but to stand outside their moment and stare in envy.

Is it time?

I nodded as he kissed the top of her head.

She turned her head to meet my eye. Don’t let him be the hero.

Not a chance, Grace. There’s only room for one hero around here, and that would be me. I winked; a feigned attempt at appearing calm.

Quit winking at my girl, Wyatt.

Quit bringing your hot wife to the police station and I’ll quit winking at her.

Grace rolled her eyes while shaking her head as she buried it into Mike’s chest again. I made a beeline for the van, fastening my vest tightly around my chest. I climbed into the van, exchanging brief nods of acknowledgement with the rest of the team, but otherwise avoiding eye contact. Tonight, the bantering camaraderie we traditionally shared had been replaced with a tense silence. Each member of the team kept his head down until Mike finally stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. As a Marine, he had already been through war, but the rest of us lacked his experience. We had no idea what to expect, but we shared a trust in each other, the kind of trust that gave me faith things would all turn out okay in the end.

Only a few hours earlier, we’d all been sharing Christmas dinner with our families. Now we were in the middle of nowhere, moving under the cover of darkness. While the world slept, my unit surrounded a farmhouse, our guns trained on every side.

Grace has a friend she says would be perfect for you.

Mike and I were lying on our stomachs in the shelter of the withered corn stalks of early winter, awaiting the command to storm the suspected location of the Mexican drug lord. This, of all things, was the conversation Mike wanted to have at this exact moment.

Two reasons why this shouldn’t be discussed. I rolled onto my side to face him. One. We’re about to raid the farmhouse of a drug lord. Two. As much as I love your wife's efforts, she’s the hottest nurse at the hospital. Everyone else pales in comparison.

But she said this one was different.

Shuler! I scolded, not breaking a whisper. Were you this talkative in the Marines?

Depended on the situation.

What about storming a hideout of an enemy combatant?

Yeah. He squinted his eyes, deep in thought. Probably.

And now you’re stuck with me ... in a field behind a farmhouse... in the winter. I rolled back onto my stomach and returned my focus to the back of the house, keeping watch of the surrounding entry points.

Better than the desert. I still hate sand.

A crackle echoed in my ear. Caleb’s voice. Shuler and Peterman, in position?

Yep, was my only answer.

Should I let you kick the door down? His nostrils flared as he tried to hold in laughter. Piece of shit. I’d never had the privilege to be trained by the United States Marine Corps and he liked to rub that in from time to time.

Since you’re as big as a fucking linebacker, you might as well do it.

Mike grinned and stared ahead at the farmhouse. The grin slowly vanished from his face as his eyes darted between each end of the house. He pushed up from his stomach and shuffled his feet under him, still keeping low.

Something doesn’t feel right.

What do you mean? I looked between him and the farmhouse.

It’s too quiet. He shook his head but continued staring at the house.

Enter on my count, Caleb’s voice echoed in my ear. I pushed into a crouch, still staring at Mike.

Wyatt, if anything happens...

Don’t start that shit, Shuler, I cut him off. Seriously, how many people have you killed?

You don’t understand. He turned his head and locked eyes with me. His brow wrinkled together as his hand gripped tighter around his gun.

What don’t I understand?

That was before. His gaze returned to the house once more.

Before what, Mike?

He let out a sigh, the only evidence of his nervous state. Before I cared whether I lived or died.

Caleb’s order crackled in the earpiece. Go!

We shot up, running full speed toward the farmhouse. Mike nailed the back door with one kick. It flew inward, slamming against the wall behind it. Our guns trained in the darkness, I followed the former Marine through the back of the house. The light of the moon shining through the window guided us as we stepped through a mudroom and entered through another door leading into a kitchen. The faint smell of rotten food lingered in the stale air. Empty whiskey bottles and half-empty beer cans cluttered the center island. A single kitchen cabinet lacked a door, but other than that, nothing seemed out of place.

Clear. Caleb’s voice echoed from the neighboring room.

I walked around the center island, searching for any evidence that might be useful to the case, but all I could see was a filthy kitchen. Mike was meticulously examining the interior wall with his flashlight, following a slow pattern against the fake wood paneling. The white beam eased across the room, stopping on the pantry door. I moved beyond the island, tucking my gun back into its holster as I stepped into the adjoining room. The filth and grime had bled into this room as well. Caleb stood near the back wall, studying a pile of papers in the dark.

All clear back th— 

A wave of pressure pushed into me. The moonlight faded as darkness took over. My face met the hardwood floor. Stars exploded all around me. Faint screams buzzed in my ear, voices muffled in cotton. My eyes refused to open as sparks of light roared across my darkened vision. The ground below me shifted and slid away, like being dragged by an invisible force. Coldness rushed against my face, but couldn’t wake me from this weird high. My head spun while my hands rested flat against the hard, frozen earth. No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t move. The body wanted to wake up, but my soul longed to remain asleep.

I tried once more to open my eyes, but to no avail. Did I go out drinking? Had Mike gotten me shitfaced again? The hissing and cracking of a nearby fire filled my ears. When did I get a fireplace? Why was I so cold if there was a fire?

Cold.

Fire.

Mike.

My eyes opened to a million stars in the sky. Shooting stars. A lot of shooting stars. I closed my eyes again.

Come on, Peterman.

Who said my name? It wasn’t Mike. He was the kind of bastard who’d get a man shitfaced and leave him on the ground outside of Dixie’s. Some Marine he was. The next thing I knew, I was being yanked up into a sitting position with my back pressed up against someone.

Wyatt, it’s Tanner. Wake up.

Landry? I coughed and gasped for breath.

He leaned me forward, and I hung my head in between my knees, staring at the dark grass underneath me. This wasn’t Dixie’s, and it sure as hell wasn’t home. So, where the fuck was I?

Two people squatted down on either side of me. I turned my head to the right and recognized Jack’s face, darkened by shadows.

Heavner? I croaked.

Wyatt. Evan’s voice muffled came from my left.

My ears rang. I opened and closed my mouth trying to get my ears to pop. I tried to look at Evan, but the fire roaring in front of me caught my attention. I stared in awe. The massive flames engulfed half of the house, quickly spreading to consume the rest.

A memory of the house and its filthy kitchen slowly opened. I saw Mike, studying the wall and opening up a door. My head straightened, and the blood in my veins turned to ice as my heart plunged into the pit of my stomach.

Oh, God. I started to push myself up, but Evan pulled me back down. Let go, Murphy.

I tried to break from his grip, desperate to rush back to find Mike. Evan only shook his head as a tear rolled down his cheek.

It’s too late, Wyatt.

We have to help Mike!

I tried to get away from them, tried to scramble to my feet, but they fought me harder. A loud crack came from the burning house as the pillars holding up the porch fell one by one. I crumbled to my knees and watched as the house burned away board by board. I sat back on my heels, my arms hanging limp at my sides.

I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. I jerked my head to see Caleb and Parker carry out Grayson. Evan and Jack left to go help. I stared at the burning house, hoping to see Mike. He would come running out soon enough without a scratch on him. He was a trained Marine and he knew better than anyone what to do. Out of all of us, he would be the last to fall. The longer I stared at the house, the less certain I felt. My tears fell one after the other. I wanted to scream out, but I knew it was too late.

The pantry, I said just as Caleb crouched down beside me. Mike opened the door as I was walking out. He must have tripped the explosion when he turned on the light. They knew we were coming. They knew we were coming.

Caleb sat with me as we stared at the collapsing house.

I’d lost my best friend. Dead and gone, just like that. I buried my face in my hands.

I have to tell Grace.

December 26th

One year later ...

THE WORDS ON the computer screen blended into the next. I sipped hot coffee for some reprieve, but the acid made my whiskey battered stomach turn even more. Every morning felt like this. I had promised myself last night wouldn’t be like the one before, but every night was the same. Some nights would be spent at Dixie’s, trying to find some woman