Noble Warrior Read Online Free PDF Page A

grocery bag sitting on the other side of the room.
    “And why would you suspect there’s a salad in there for you?” Stanzer asked.
    “Why else would there even be a Whole Foods bag in this room right now?” McCutcheon answered.
    M.D. hopped off the counter and crossed the room. “The only thing I am not sure about is if you brought me spinach or arugula.”
    McCutcheon opened the bag and removed a fresh green salad. “Kale?” he said popping it open. “Keeping me on my toes, huh?” McCutcheon fished a fork out of the bag and took
a nice big bite. “You want some superfoods, Colonel?” he offered, extending a fork. “They’re good for you.”
    “Son, if God intended me to eat that shit he would not have invented Philly cheesesteaks.”
    “Or nachos,” said the tall, barrel-chested man who’d sidled up to McCutcheon a few moments earlier. “Hello son. Name’s Puwolsky. Colonel Nathan Puwolsky. Nice to
meet you.”
    Puwolsky extended his arm for a shake. McCutcheon, mid-chew, looked to the colonel before retuning the gesture. Agent ZERO X1 wasn’t supposed to be making friends. Ghosts like him
didn’t even exist.
    “I’m sorry,” Stanzer said, stepping in front of his soldier. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but who the fuck are you?”
    “I just told you, name’s Puwolsky. But I’m not here for you, Colonel. I’m here for the kid.”
    McCutcheon remained wordless.
    “And unfortunately, son, I bring some very bad news.”

A cold moment hung in the air between the two colonels. Puwolsky owned a strong frame. Looked like a former tight end who played
Division I college football at some point in his life. Big hands, wide shoulders, an air of cockiness about him.
    Stanzer possessed the skill set to rip the tongue from a man’s head for even thinking about burping in his mug like that. He was a Krav Maga guy, a real-world situation type of soldier who
didn’t give a shit about style points when it came to fighting. Efficiency and brutality guided his strategy for confrontation. Make a threatening gesture toward Stanzer, and his philosophy
was “neutralize and pulverize.” McCutcheon knew from the way the colonel carried himself that he’d put more than a few bullets into the back of people’s heads.
    Stanzer was a man who knew what he was fighting for and knew why he was fighting for it. If something needed to be done it got done, fuck the collateral damage.
    “I’m from the DPERS,” Puwolsky said. “The Detroit Police Elite Response Squad. They call us the Dopers, for short. I know, ironic, right?”
    “You’re a long way from Detroit, Doper.”
    “Detroit’s what brings me here,” Puwolsky responded. “Demon’s back.”
    “My father?”
    “Yes.”
    “I’m not sure you understand exactly what I am communicating to you right now, Officer Poo-Fart-Skee,” Stanzer said. “Refrain from addressing my soldier. Immediately.
This is the wrong place, this is the wrong time, and unless I give you the right to speak with him, you do not have it.”
    “Actually, these little colonel birds I wear on my shoulder give me the right to speak to this young man,” Puwolsky said.
    “And these little colonel birds I wear on
my
shoulder give me the right to say, ‘Eat my ass’.”
    The two men moved nose-to-nose, Puwolsky owning a couple of inches in height plus a couple of pounds in weight, but not an ounce when it came to what always mattered most.
    Big. Furry. Balls.
    “Hmm,” Puwolsky said, not showing much zest to mix it up. “Two colonels, questions of jurisdiction; why don’t we let the kid decide if he wants to hear? After all,
it’s his girl they plan to target.”
    “What!?” McCutcheon pushed his way around Stanzer. “What do you mean my girl?”
    “Do I have your permission, Colonel?” Puwolsky asked.
    It was a bullshit move executed in a bullshit way, but Stanzer knew he’d been boxed in. Tell Puwolsky to go blow, and McCutcheon would be a useless operative