Trauma Train Part: 1

Hello readers!

If you’re already a part of my newsletter, you may want to skip this blog. For the rest of you, I will be posting an excerpt from The Silver Ninja: Narco Hotel.

Please note that this is not a final excerpt. This means that the wording, sentence structure, and content is subject to change.

Please enjoy.

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The rules of the game were set: blood for peace. Without it, Commissioner Gates would brand her a fugitive and end her freedom, forever. With Chief Hasan offering an opportunity to remove her nemesis from office, Cindy had much to think about. She needed advice, someone who knew about getting their hands dirty.

Former Staff Sergeant Thomas Brynfire of the First Batallion, third Marine regiment, knew what it took to kill a man. He shot Iraqi insurgents in Fallujah, and watched his buddy get cut down by machinegun fire during a rescue attempt of a soldier in Karma. This man had an intimate relationship with war. He survived Iraq and Afghanistan and several classified operations he doesn’t remember participating in. When he came home, the war came with him. A drunk plagued with PTSD. He taught Cindy and her sister how to hold a knife and gut the enemy. This soldier was also her father.

It was around six thirty in the evening. Thomas had met Cindy outside of a small ramen noodle restaurant in Midtown. After a kiss and hug hello, they began slurping noodles from their bowls.

“I have to be honest. When you told me we were getting ramen, I wasn’t expecting this.”

She smiled at the man she once viewed as larger than life. During his youth, her father had been a slender, athletic man. His wavy hair was always greased back with gel and when he smiled, it made the stress lines on his face less severe. Now in his old age, his blond hair had gone grey. His taut muscles sagged around his chest and arms. He smiled more but his crystal blue eyes were still surrounded by blood. She thought it was from the drink, but after he sobered up his eyes remained the same. Whatever happened on the battlefield was permanently etched into his gaze.

“Not all ramen comes from ninety nine cent Styrofoam cups.” She picked up a sushi roll with her fingers and downed it in one bite.

“I’m surprised you didn’t invite your mother. She would have loved to see you girls. Where’s Jadie anyway? She working?” “I didn’t invite them because I needed to talk to you about something private.” She took a long pause. “About the war.”

To be continued . . .

Trauma Train Part 2
Trauma Train Part 3
Wilmar Luna