Read Ride the Thunder for Free Online

cigarette in the ashtray, exhaling a last stream of smoke.
    “But why did you become a mercenary?” Trudie lifted herself on one elbow to see his face better. His expression told her little.
    The calloused tip of his finger traced a light curve from one side of her jaw, under her chin, and slicing across her throat to the other side. “Because I knew how to kill quickly and silently. I was proficient with almost every weapon that was manufactured at the time and could teach others how to use them.” Brig paused at the leap of fear in her eyes, the twinge of mistrust, and wished he’d kept his mouth shut. “It was all I knew when I got out of the service. It was what I did best. When someone offered to pay me a lot of money to do it, I took it.”
    “Is that why you did it? For the money?”
    “I thought that was why at the time,” he admitted. “But I was probably trying to get back at my grandfather.He was livid when I told him what I was going to do. As far as he was concerned, mercenaries were the scum of the earth. It didn’t matter to him that the men who worked for him were little more than that. They went across the country setting up his little discount chain stores and driving local merchants out of business. He hired respectable mercenaries, but he couldn’t stand the thought of his grandson becoming one. He made a fortune and ruined a lot of good people along the way.”
    His voice became hard with remembered bitterness. While some had admired his grandfather’s business acumen and others had envied his wealth, Brig had only felt disgust for the man whose given name he bore—Brigham Sanger, founder of Sanger Discount Stores.
    “Brig?” Trudie’s voice was hesitant. She was a little bit frightened by the cold look that had hardened his features.
    His eyes softened as they refocused on her face. Something like a smile touched his mouth, curving the corners into his mustache.
    “My grandfather is probably the reason I kept hiring out to fight on the losing side. I was always backing the little guy, trying to even out the odds.”
    “Wh . . . Where did you work?” Almost in spite of herself, she was fascinated by his past, repelled yet attracted.
    “Central America, Africa, South America. I moved around a lot. You’ve got to remember that I wasn’t very good at picking a winner so the wars rarely lasted long. Either that or the money gave out, which meant I wasn’t paid and there wasn’t cash to buy ammunition or guns . . . or food.” Brig didn’t go into details about comrades killed, food that wasn’t fit to eat but had been consumed anyway because there was nothing else, or sleeping on the ground with no protection against the elements. And he didn’t talk about the soldiers that fell under the bead of his gun.
    “Why did you quit? You must have been young atthe time.” She stopped making any attempt to hide her curiosity as she scooted into a more comfortable position to listen to his answer.
    The sheet was draped around her hips. The heavy globes of her breasts drooped against her ribcage, the large rosy-crested centers swaying as she moved. Brig was momentarily distracted from her question. His hand reached out to caress the nearest breast.
    “There was an ambush. My patrol was caught in the middle of it. I remember a bullet tearing into my shoulder and then yelling at everyone to take cover. Then everything went black,” he said. “When I came to, there was a butchering doctor standing beside me. He had a scalpel and a pair of forceps in his hands. He was going to dig the bullet out of me. I was lying on the ground underneath a piece of canvas strung up as a lean-to. Flies were everywhere. This doctor jammed a bullet between my teeth and told me to bite it. The makeshift hospital didn’t have any anesthesia. When he started probing and cutting into me, I realized that I didn’t want their damned money or their war. Before I blacked out again, I swore if I lived through the