CHAPTER ONE

Jonas Samson never wanted anything more than to be a naval officer. His father had died in the line of duty when he was just eleven years old. A Navy pilot, he was flying a mission over Eastern Europe when he was accidentally shot down by friendly fire. It was all a horrific, horrible mistake. At least that’s what the chaplain and military officers said when they delivered the terrible news. It was all a mistake. A tragic, horrific mistake. One that he and his mother had to live with.

He knew then that he would follow in his father’s footsteps. Strange how an eleven-year-old boy can think following in his dead father’s footsteps would somehow bring them closer. So he followed. At least as far as the Navy. Being a pilot wasn’t his thing. He wanted something else.

But following the paths of those before us is often more difficult than we imagined. Jonas attended the Naval Academy, graduating in the top twenty percent of his class. A feat that many could only dream about. His grades were stellar, his record squeaky clean, and his physical prowess was unrivaled.

He left the academy and supported Special Forces teams for a few years and then was asked to take an assignment he truly didn’t want, but also felt he couldn’t refuse.

“I’m asking you to be my personal assistant, Samson,” said Admiral Harris.

You could have knocked Jonas over with a feather. Admiral Harris was rising in the ranks quickly. Known for his straightforward, no-nonsense approach to everything, he was honest, kind, and respectful to those around him. Although not suited for Washington, they came calling, and he was headed to the capitol and wanted Jonas by his side.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m just shocked that you’d ask me. I always thought I’d be in a combat zone or on missions with the Special Forces teams. Office work wasn’t high on my list.” The admiral laughed, shaking his head.

“And that’s exactly why I want you, Jonas. Listen, I’ve seen how you treat others. I’ve met your beautiful wife and witnessed how you treat her. You’re the man I want beside me. What we have to do, what we have ahead of us will require the skills that you and I possess. I need you with me, Jonas.”

Jonas could see the pain in the admiral’s face as he spoke about his wife. The admiral’s wife had been diagnosed with psychological issues, most of which chose to rear their ugly heads during dinners, receptions, cocktail parties, or anything else where there were others around. Others and alcohol. He cringed every time the woman walked into the room, afraid of what might come out of her mouth.

In all that time, at all those events, Harris never once displayed anything except compassion and love for his wife. He would hold her hand, squeeze it, and smile at her, telling others that she hadn’t been feeling well and the antibiotics were not working well with her other medications.

Everyone knew. But no one said a word, instead admiring the man for staying with a woman that he had every right to divorce. It was something that Jonas would never forget.

In spite of his reservations, he agreed to go to D.C. with the admiral on the premise that he would have more time at home with his expectant wife and new family. It was everything he’d hoped it would not be. Hectic, chaotic, dark, secretive, covert. The weren’t enough adjectives existing in the English dictionary to say what was on his mind.

When the admiral’s brother-in-law instigated stirring the pot in unimaginable ways, Jonas and the admiral began formulating plans to stop him. They would have never guessed just how disturbed he really was. For them both, it would end in tragedy.

“I know it’s late again, babe. I’m sorry. I’ll be home around nine, but don’t wait for me. You need to eat, and so do those two little ones you’re carrying,” he laughed. Jonas was over the moon excited about having twins. He and his wife had been married three years and had been trying every single night for three years to conceive.

They couldn’t believe their luck when the doctor announced that it was twins. Neither had twins on their side of the family, and neither expected that it would happen to them. Nevertheless, they were delighted and already had the two cribs ready and waiting for their soon-to-be arrivals.

“You know I hate eating without you,” she said. Normally patient and understanding, as her pregnancy progressed, her patience seemed to disappear. Jonas couldn’t blame her. Carrying two babies had to have been miserable for her.

“I know, honey. Listen, I’ll try to get out of here by eight, which should put me home by eight-thirty. Why don’t you order from the Chinese place down the street and have it delivered.”

“I can do that,” she said with a smile. “In fact, I may walk down there. I need the fresh air, and the exercise will do us good.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiled. “I love you, babe. See you soon.”

They were the last words he would ever speak to his wife.

Witnesses say she had an arm full of Chinese food, patiently waiting at the crosswalk of the busy road. Two other people were standing with her, young men laughing and joking about a game they had seen the night before. One even commented on how cute she looked pregnant. She only laughed, thanking him.

The men said when the light changed, they moved ahead while the woman was slightly behind them. They heard tires screeching, a woman’s screams, and containers of food flew everywhere. When they turned, the woman was lying in an awkward position, and the driver of the car only stared down at her then took off.

She never made it to the hospital. She never made it home. She never ate her Chinese food.

“Lieutenant Samson, we have the make, model, and license plate of the vehicle, thanks to the witnesses. It’s a Maryland vehicle, and we have an APB out on it now.” Jonas was still staring down at the dingy tile in the emergency room. “Lieutenant? Is there someone we can call?”

“I’m here,” said Admiral Harris, walking toward him. “I’m his friend and commanding officer.”

Jonas stared at the admiral, shaking his head.

“I know, son. I know,” he said, lifting him to his feet. He cried like a baby for an hour. Then he got angry. He was going hunting. No matter how long it took, he was going to find the man that stole his happiness.

But the admiral talked some sense into him and urged him to allow the police to handle the situation. Within twenty-four hours, they identified the car as stolen, but the driver had gone to an emergency room in Baltimore to have a head wound stitched up. Someone in the hospital had called the police stating that he admitted to hitting the woman but ran before the police arrived.

They had a name, address, employer, family location, all of it. Archibald Mansur Jr. was the man they wanted, but he was nowhere to be found.

According to the police, he’d admitted to the emergency room doctor that he was drunk, hit the woman, and drove off. There was no explanation for the stolen car. His girlfriend said he drove a new BMW, but the car that was used in the accident was a small Ford SUV.

When he was reported to the police at the hospital, he’d left before anyone could detain him permanently.

For Jonas, it was nearly too much. Luckily, Admiral Harris was there for him. He forced him to attend counseling sessions, take some time off, and get his head on straight. All the while, the police gave him weekly reports of what they were doing in their attempt to find Archie Mansur.

Jonas knew it wasn’t that easy. Until Archibald Mansur was found, his head would never be straight.

When the opportunity came about to return the favor and find Admiral Harris’s killer, he was more than happy to do so. He never expected that he’d be asked to join the team at Voodoo Guardians.

He also never expected to have fate punch him in the nose.