Case Files: Preacher by Jonathan Yanez (Forsaken Mercenary)
English | 2020 | Fantasy | ePUB | 2.6 MB
I’m Jonathan, a former personal trainer turned full-time author and part-time model. I could go on and on about how many books I’ve written and awards I’ve won and blah, blah, blah but I’d rather use this time for you to get to know the real me. I write because that’s what I was born to do and I freaking love doing it.
It’s come down to one shot
One mission to prove he’s worthy
Robert Cole isn’t proud of his wasted past. In fact, shame isn’t a far stretch.
But now he’s found a chance at redemption. A new profession as a mercenary for an elusive firm – Immortal Corp.
Let’s not count our genetically engineered chickens before they hatch; he has to live through this gnarly assignment first.
Get ready to dive into the past of a broken man, find out how he earned the nickname Preacher, and discover what drives this trained killer.
“The Preacha Man, the Preacha Man, ha!”
Robert’s feet pounded the rooftops in the dilapidated slums of the Moon city, New Ranch. Old solar tiles crunched beneath his feet as he chased his prey. Blaster rounds shot wildly from the man he hunted, penetrating the roof to his right and left.
Screams permeated the cool air around Robert as rounds from the blaster fire continued. Stem heads, thugs, and vagabonds took cover as yet another fight went down in their neighborhood.
Robert came to a harsh stop at the edge of the building’s rooftop. He breathed hard without dying for oxygen like he would have a year ago. Thanks to all the training from Immortal Corp, he was in the best shape of his life.
The Galactic Government would be here soon, thanks to the discharge of a firearm. They usually stayed away from this section of New Ranch unless they had a serious reason. Robert had to be out before that happened.
Getting caught wasn’t an option. Not that he was doing anything wrong, per se, but Immortal Corp liked to paint outside the lines.
The man Robert chased crashed through a window below and out into the alley. Glass shards shattered on the hard ground around him.
Don’t overthink it, Robert told himself. Just react.
Leaping from the single-story building, Robert landed on the fleeing man, taking them both to the unforgiving ground.
The stem-head was skinny and stank like a toilet. A wild look in his eyes told Robert he wasn’t going to go down easy.
Rolling on the ground, the stem-head tried to create space to point the barrel of his snub-nosed P10 blaster at Robert.
Both men struggled for control of the weapon between them for a moment.
Robert held the weapon with a death-grip, shoving it up and over their heads. The wild gang member pulled the trigger again and again as they rolled on the ground.
In a few seconds, the weapon clicked dry.
Robert pushed himself off the man, creating distance.
“Slow and steady, Ro—wow; almost used your real name over the comms,” a voice in Robert’s ear told him. “Anyway, if you need backup, just say the word.”
“Oracle, I’m fine,” Robert said into his earpiece. “I need to do this myself.”
The strung-out stem-head in front of Robert got to his feet. His black tongue snaked out of cracked lips, licking at yellow teeth. The wild man’s eyes searched side to side for an escape.