Chapter 4

Another group of friends clapped Ben on the back, distracting him. Hunter relaxed. Now, Kata’s attention would be all his.

“I hear you’re a SEAL,” she murmured, her voice low, a little husky. “Recently injured?”

He grimaced at the memory of a bullet ripping through him three weeks ago, in nearly the same spot he’d suffered a similar gunshot wound only a few months prior. That night still bothered him . . . It almost seemed as though that fucking Venezuelan arms de**er, Víctor Sotillo, and his hit men had known of his prior injury and had aimed accordingly.

“Yes. He put a bullet in my shoulder, but I planted mine in his chest, so I think I got the better end of the deal.”

Kata gaped. “Did he . . . ?”

“Die?” Hunter nodded. “As we were extracting, his pals were performing CPR, but intel was that he didn’t make it. Good riddance.”

“Bad guy?”

“Really bad guy. Sadistic and out for a buck, no matter how many died in the process.” Or how much it des