Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Garrison

How many pieces can a person lose before they're no longer themselves?

That question bounced around in my brain as I watched the woman across the room. She'd just had both her legs amputated and was learning how to use her two new prosthetics.

Half her body mass stolen in one moment. Yet, I wouldn't call her half a person. In fact, as I watched her fighting to walk again, I'd call her more a person than most.

My thoughts were interrupted when my friend Caden flopped into the seat across from me.

"I've got a great idea."

The moment those words left Caden's mouth, I immediately stood from the table. I didn't get far before he caught my sleeve.

"Come on," Caden pleaded. "It's not like the last time. I promise."

"Last time you had a great idea , we ended up stranded on the side of the road in Baltimore." I frowned.

"Okay, yes, that was my fault. But this is different. Just hear me out."

Running a hand through my short hair, I glanced around at the other people in the veteran hospital's therapy room. I was only there for a checkup, to make sure my knee had healed properly after being shattered by a high caliber bullet. So far everything looked good—or as good as could be expected after doctors had to literally piece my knee back together from splinters—so I felt lucky.

Many others in that room weren't so lucky. Along with the woman missing her legs, there was a man who had more bandages than visible skin, and another whose entire left side of their body seemed to be paralyzed. Even Caden had a bum leg and a barely working arm, which he was meant to be exercising.

How could I turn down a request from a friend when I was the most fortunate one in the room?

I sat back down on the cheap plastic stool that shifted under my weight. "Fine. What's this idea of yours?"

Caden propped his injured arm up on the table to keep it out of the way, then leaned forward in excitement. "Okay, so, you've been looking for work, right?"

It was obviously a rhetorical question. Caden had witnessed every step of my fruitless quest to find a job. The clock was ticking. There were only a few weeks left on the lease for my apartment. If I couldn't afford to renew the lease or move somewhere else, I'd be out on the street with no roof over my head.

Caden didn't bother to wait for my response and barreled on with his so-called great idea . "I work for this club, right? Just, like, courier stuff. Transporting things here and there. But, yesterday I heard the manager talking about hiring a new bouncer, so I recommended you."

The legs of the stool were uneven and clacked like a metronome against the linoleum floor with the slightest shift in my weight. I focused on sitting as still as possible to quiet the noise and distract myself from the urge to throttle my friend.

"So, when you said you had a great idea, what you meant was that you've already made a decision and are hoping I'll just go along with it."

"Come on." Caden spread himself over the table like a half-melted ice cube. "The place is in desperate need of some decent security, and you'd be a great bouncer. Six-foot-two. Built like a brick shithouse. Natural resting-bitch-face. You'll terrify any troublemakers before they can even get started."

"Was that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?"

Cursing from the other side of the room suddenly interrupted our conversation. The woman with the prosthetic legs had collapsed. Hospital staff rushed to help her up, but she waved them away and insisted on climbing to her artificial feet on her own. She wobbled for a moment as she struggled to find her balance, but eventually stood up straight.

Looking down at his two intact legs, I flexed my right knee under the table. The joint ached more the usual today, and I felt the scar tissue pulling taut with each movement.

Yet at least I had my own feet to stand on.

I pressed my palm into the muscle above my knee, using the discomfort to ground myself. "Fine. If you've already set it up, I can at least talk to the manager. See what being a bouncer for a club would require."

"Great." With his good hand, Caden pulled out his phone and punched a few numbers. A moment later my phone buzzed with the notification of an incoming text. "Meet me at that address tomorrow night. Say... around ten. You won't regret it, I promise."

Looking up the address, I scrolled through a few pictures of the club in question. I sighed. "Too late. I already do."