The Recruiter (A Thriller) by Dani Amore Read Free Book Online Page A

the man’s intelligence. Lowry’s office is neat as a pin. Not a paper out of place. Even the pens on the left side of the desk are symmetrically arranged.
    Weak, but smart, Samuel thinks. And a by-the-book kind of freak.
    “I see you almost made it through Hell Week,” Lowry says. The smile tries to tell Samuel that hey, it happens to the best of us.
    “Almost, sir,” Samuel says, keeping his voice even. The pain in his head flares up. I’d like to wipe that fucking smile off your face. You and your chicken-bone arms and bug eyes wouldn’t have lasted one minute. So come on, be an asshole, Samuel thinks. Give me shit about it.
    The bug eyes focus on Samuel. Their eyes meet and something momentarily flashes through Lowry’s before he looks back down at the folder in front of him. He briefly imagines slitting Lowry’s throat and feeding him to the sharks. A calm, peaceful feeling makes its way through his body.
    “You’re from Michigan?” Lowry asks.
    “Lake Orion, sir.”
    “All your life?”
    “Yes sir.” Samuel gives a nearly imperceptible nod.
    Lowry leans back in his chair. “I’m from Wisconsin. Don’t miss it at all. All that snow and bitter cold.” He shudders as if a blast of Arctic air has stormed through the office. “I’ll take Florida any day. Golfing in January! Can’t beat it, my man.” Lowry smiles, and Samuel notes the crooked teeth. Samuel imagines that Lowry doesn’t smile too often.
    “Yes sir,” Samuel says.
    “I’m going to assign you to ordnance. According to your enlistment papers, you expressed an interest in weapons. Does that sound good to you?”
    “Yes sir.”
    Lowry jots something down in the folder, then looks up at Samuel. “Are you planning to try again at BUD/S?”
    “Absolutely, sir.”
    Now it’s Lowry’s turn for a slight nod.
    “Well, welcome aboard. Report to Hangar F2 tomorrow morning at 0800 sharp. Your supervisor will be Lieutenant Thorn. That’ll be all.”
    Samuel stands and salutes, then leaves the office.
    Outside, he steadies his hands. The sun has disappeared, hiding behind a thick wall of black clouds. The air is cool.
    Rain, Samuel thinks.

Eighteen
    Samuel is pleased to learn that he’ll have his own room. Apparently, space is so limited that the only bunks available are the private rooms normally reserved for officers. A single room is a rarity among the lower ranks of the Navy. Not that Samuel’s a newbie, exactly. He’s already an E-3.
    The room is very small, about eight feet by ten feet. A single bed takes up one wall. A desk and dresser are along the other side. Samuel stows his gear in the footlocker at the foot of the bed. Before closing it, he reaches into the sleeve on the outside of his duffel bag. From it, he pulls a single sheet of paper, folded several times. He takes it to the desk and carefully unfolds it. Smooths it out along the top of the desk. From the desk’s top drawer he takes a push pin and tacks the paper to the small bulletin board on the wall above the desk.
    Samuel goes to the bed and lies down on his side, so he can look at the picture. It’s of a Navy SEAL, his face in camo, a knife in his hand. The eyes jump from the page. Deep blue. Bright. Dangerous. It’s the same picture that Samuel has been looking at since he was very young. It was from a magazine. A National Geographic maybe. That face. Those eyes. They’ve given Samuel strength during times when he’s desperately needed it. Now, he looks into those eyes.
    They remind Samuel of his own eyes.
    He can see himself in their place. Stalking. The knife in his hand. He’s done that, in fact.
    He doesn’t know how long he sleeps. He dreams of Nevens. Samuel awakes in a cold sweat. He sits up, his head pounding. He rubs his temples, massages his forehead. When his heart slows and his breathing becomes normal, he rises slowly, gets his running gear out from his duffel and runs along the course outside the barracks. The air is cool, cleansed by an