The others. It felt like slap in the face. Denial was so self-serving. Mara was a prostitute. He was a john. One of her johns, he reminded himself. Sure, they’d seen each other twice a week for the last eight months, but what kind of relationship was that? Empty. Going nowhere. She was so beautiful and he was… What? Did the scars make him ugly? Or something else. Like what he used to do for a living? He wondered how different his life would be if he hadn’t become a Marine. Would he have a wife and children? A home? Not just a roof over his head, but a real home with a sense of purpose and belonging? None of that mattered now. Fresh out of college, he’d joined the Marines and discovered a natural aptitude he’d never known about. He could shoot and it didn’t take the Marines long to identify him. He spent seven years with the Corps as an elite scout sniper before the CIA recruited him.

More than a decade ago, his career abruptly ended after a botched mission. He’d fallen into the hands of a sadistic interrogator and endured three weeks of pure torment. His Nicaraguan interrogator had carved him like Thanksgiving turkey. An inch apart, dozens of crisscrossing scars marred his torso, making him look like a human wicker basket. At the end, his interrogator crucified him in a tight vertical cage that forced him to stand. After four days and nights on his feet with no food or water, the pain in his legs had been literally blinding. He’d been hammered from infection and fever, drifting in and out of consciousness.

“Where are you?”

“Huh?”

“You were gone again.”

“Sorry.”

She traced one of the grooves on his chest with a forefinger.

“Are you happy, Mara?”

“You’ve never asked me that before.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I can’t meet you Friday.”

He sat up. “What? Why not?”

“Shh… It’s okay. I have another meeting. Some drug company bigwig. Karen set it up.”

“Mara, if it’s money…”

She touched his lips. “You’re so generous to me. It’s not the money.”

“You could work at my security company. I can get you an apartment. You don’t have to do this. It’s dangerous.”

“I’m glad you care. Will I see you next week?”

His cell interrupted them. He reached over to the nightstand.

“Nathan? It’s Karen. That big guy’s here again. He’s got Cindy!”

“I’ll be there in seven minutes. Can you make it out to the patio?”

“I think so.”

“Do it. Turn off all the lights.”

Two minutes later he was striding through the hotel’s lobby with Mara in tow. Once outside the automatic glass doors, he sprinted over to his Mustang. Mara’s heels clicked on the concrete as she hurried to keep up.