Tribes of Man: The Beginning [Tribes of Man] (Siren Publishing Classic) by Kiel Nichols Read Free Book Online

accompanied by torture or pain. Most of the time.
    Gideon knew James Dean since he joined the Seattle police force fifteen years before. Gideon had been SWAT, and Jimmy had become their sharpshooter as soon as he was accepted into the elite SWAT team. Some of the others were skeptical that a “new” recruit could get the job done, but after their first mission, they realized that they were totally outclassed by the newcomer. Before joining the force, Jimmy had been a sniper for the Army Rangers. The fact was that he’d been places most Americans had never heard of and done things most Americans couldn’t imagine. They learned to respect his abilities and to fear his icy temper. Jimmy may have seemed like an easygoing guy, but those who made fun of his name by referring to the actor or the sausage soon learned that his affability masked a formidable enemy.
    Gideon knocked on the door to the house.
    “Who is it?” came the muffled question. Gideon knew that Jimmy could see him through the Judas hole, but the man was nothing if not cautious.
    “Hey, Jimmy, it’s Gideon. I came to pick your brain,” Gideon replied, loud enough to be heard through the closed door.
    The door slowly opened, but Gideon couldn’t see Jimmy in the open space. He stepped into the house with his hands out to the sides. Jimmy was right where Gideon had expected him, behind the door with his Glock 20 in his hand.
    Jimmy closed the door behind Gideon, looked out through the Judas hole again, and relocked the door. Only then did he put the gun in the holster he wore every day and hold out his hand.
    “Hey, Gid. How’s it hanging?” Jimmy was a short, thin, dark-haired man who looked like he couldn’t win a fight with a ten-year-old. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt, tattered jeans, and his ever-present modified shoulder holster. Even though he only had one gun in it, it was modified to have a gun under each arm, in case either arm became incapacitated, and a holder on his back for his Dakota T-76 Longbow sniper rifle.
    “It’s hanging. Still taking precautions, I see.” Gideon took off his jacket.
    “Hey, you don’t want to carry a piece, that’s your funeral.” Jimmy stepped back and gestured into the living room, a charming little room with hardwood floors, a fireplace with a mahogany mantle, and a big-screen television. Jimmy didn’t let Gideon go to be polite. He just didn’t want to leave his back unguarded.
    “I’ve got my clutch, good enough for me.” He knew Jimmy would want to know if he was armed but would never have asked. Gideon told him out of courtesy. Jimmy would know that his clutch piece would be a Ruger in an ankle holster. Jimmy relaxed perceptibly. Gideon wondered, not for the first time, what would happen if Jimmy ever slipped a gear. He was perfectly sane for an assassin, but if he ever went crazy the world would be in trouble.
    “What can I do you for?” Jimmy asked after Gideon took a seat on the plush couch.
    Gideon handed Jimmy a file. “I have a client who might be in a bit of trouble. She was attacked in her home, her roommate was tortured and killed, and she thinks someone may be following her. She was hit by a weapon that I think you might recognize.” Gideon handed Jimmy the police report.
    After a few seconds, Jim said, “Oh, shit.”
    Gideon handed him the crime scene shots of Michelle. Jimmy held them up almost to his nose and moved the angle of the paper as though trying to see around her body. “Wish I could have seen the site,” he said. Gideon didn’t take offense. Jimmy’s interest in what happened to Michelle wasn’t sick joy. It was cool logic and an eye for death.
    Gideon handed Jimmy the copy of Raina’s MRI picture and Michelle’s CAT scan. “Take a look at these. Are they caused by what I think they’re caused by?”
    Jimmy opened a small drawer in the coffee table. Gideon caught sight of another gun, a revolver this time, a pack of playing cards, and some M&M’s before Jimmy