THE COUGAR'S BABY - 9

C H A P T E R N I N E - - - - S H A U N

Shaun Thompson was many things, but he was not a calm person.

He genuinely hadn't thought of himself as a man with a bad attitude. If anything, he had been darn near stoic for the majority of his life, a quality that was frequently used against him rather than in his favor. But those who knew him well were well aware that a predator who was difficult to contain and much harder to tame erupted behind that strong, calm facade.

Two the fact that he had become increasingly worse over the previous year or so was something he assumed no one should have noticed, but his assumptions were clearly incorrect. He should have known this when he lifted himself up from the sidewalk, dusting off his leather jacket.

"What the heck was it for?" he demanded, broadening his arms as he glanced at Jordan and Mitch, who were standing like bouncers in front of the entrance.

Shaun could see the fallen tables and shattered glasses from the altercation behind them, as well as some unlucky drunk massaging his presumably dislocated jaw while Jerome tried to smooth things up with him. At a venue named The Dive, a man should have anticipated to get hit if he wasn't careful about what he said to whom, right?

"Shaun, stop it. Go walk it off," Jordan remarked, sharing a look with his twin and receiving a nod of understanding.

Deep gashes that were left over from the injuries Jordan sustained in that unnamed jungle more than a year ago could still be seen on his right hand. Shaun was unable to avoid that hand or the emotions it brought up each time he turned to face his friend and squadmate.

She was a vision, an apparition that, for all Shaun knew at this point, could have been a ghost. Dani's dark hair, which fell down to her shoulders, the hawk-like expression on her face as she glanced over her shoulder, and her green eyes, which were ablaze with an unidentifiable emotion, all stood out. Since that assignment, he hadn't seen her, and if he had stopped to reflect, he probably would have understood that his nasty attitude could have had more to do with that fact than he liked to acknowledge.

Why do you think I should walk it off? He absolutely called us "sissies"! He insulted all we stand for," Shaun said, his ire building like a tsunami.

"He's inebriated. You're definitely inebriated. It's the middle of the day, man, just chill. We don't need any additional problems around here. Wasn't Negros City enough? " Mitch inquired, cocking his brow.

Shaun huffed and stuffed his hands into his pockets. Negros City  felt like a billions of years ago, although it had only been less than two weeks since they'd remained holed up in that sorry excuse for a province, and Shaun had ended up wrecking a bar due to an unfortunate mix of too much scotch and a bad temper. Jerome had sat him down after it and told him flatly that if he didn't shape up, he'd be on an extended leave from Squad Six.

Shaun, on the other hand, was skeptical. Shaun began to doubt his views after seeing Jerome kneeling next to the injured prick, his face distorted in a sympathy and wrath grimace. He opened his mouth to say something else to the cougar twins, but then grumbled and waved them away as he wheeled around and went away.

"Fuck you guys as well. "Don't expect pity from me the next time you get into this kind of mess," he yelled over his shoulder as he crossed the street, hands thrust into his pockets.

He didn't turn around, but he didn't have to since he knew the twins would be keeping an eye on him as long as he was still on the street before they went back to the pub and contributed to bringing things under control. People trying to calm Shaun's raging irritability has been happening a lot lately, to no avail. It almost succeeded.

Missions were the only thing keeping him alive and well at this time. He seemed to be able to focus only when he had his gun in hand, was holed up in a nest, and was watching for someone to utterly screw up. One of the only possible explanations for why Jerome continued to put up with this nonsense from him was the fact that his performance hadn't decreased.

Shaun thought grimly, "Not like he was much better back when things went to shit with Libby." But that notion had to be quickly dismissed. If it wasn't, he'd be confessing that there was something more to his actions right now. Something like to, instance, love for one's partner. And it was ridiculous, right?

You don't even know who she is. It was just one night. Shaun repeated to himself, "Get the fuck over her," the same words he'd told himself over and over and fucking over again.

They didn't appear to stick very well, though.

Without regard for his destination, he moved quickly down the street. He took a moment to consider where in hell he was going and what he was going to do when he reached a bus stop. The choice to go back to base was there, dangling in front of him like a carrot, promising further conflict with superiors and the potential for receiving a severe rebuke from Hemingway or someone of a same quality. At that moment, especially with alcohol in his system, he wasn't really interested in it.

He at least maintained his ability to choose well.

Jerome pursed his lips as he squinted his eyes up at the sun. He fished his phone from his pocket, checking the time and seeing whether he had any messages. Nothing.

Why the fuck hasn't Carter come back to me yet, he pondered, loving the chance to think about something other than the fact that his mind was absolutely screwed up right now.

His hesitation came to an end when a bus appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Shaun logged on after verifying the line number. He settled onto one of the cramped seats after paying the fee. He slouched against the glass of the largely empty bus, one hand up for support, and watched the drab, filthy streets of Negros City pass past.

The fact that Squad Six was in Negros City wasn't a coincidence. It was one of The Firm's four primary hubs and served as the operational hub for many of its operations that went farther south. They probably had to make another excursion to the magnificent depths of the jungles and distant locations to take out one viper's nest after another since they were here right now.

The fact that Squad Six was in Ilocos wasn't a coincidence. It was one of The Firm's four primary hubs and served as the operational hub for many of its operations that went farther south. They probably had to make another excursion to the magnificent depths of the jungles and distant locations to take out one viper's nest after another since they were here right now.

The fact that no one in their right mind would be caught dead going to Ilocos today added to the region's allure. That was the reason The Firm maintained such a constant presence, although secretly. It's challenging to find a group that visits all the locations where nobody else wants to be. like, Ilocos, maybe.

That happiness, however, was short-lived because when he arrived back in the United States a few weeks later, he learned that Daniella Gutierrez had left the group and performed a disappearing performance so brilliant that Houdini ought to have been studying it.

She had entirely disappeared, and Shaun couldn't help but take it personally even though he knew better. It had, in a sense, destroyed him.

This is why you don't get connected, he told himself, repeating a phrase that had been ingrained in him for some time but had never really seemed to benefit him.

About forty minutes later, at a station that was much worse than the one he had boarded, he finally came to an end. He gave the area a quick glance in both directions before shoving his hands back into his pockets and walking ominously down the street. He couldn't tell which street he was searching for because they all seemed the same to him, but once he did, it wasn't difficult to locate the building.

It was a tall, dilapidated brick structure. Shaun didn't really care that the windows were mostly smashed or that the children playing ball out front may have benefited from a supper and a bath. He entered, keeping his eyes and ears open as he climbed the stairs in search of an apartment in block 12.

It was the final apartment on the right-hand side of the third level. As he passed the other doors, some of which had definitely been broken into, he noticed a guy tearing something out of a brown paper bag in one apartment, his face distorted with the strain of the issues of the world. At the very least, Shaun might surmise how he felt.

He tapped the door once and then again before slamming it so forcefully with his fist that he worried it would fall off its hinges. Although he continued to bang on the door, it finally creaked open and let him inside the flat. He grumbled and waited a while at the door before entering.

“Carter?" He yelled, craned his neck to scan the cramped space. He said, "It's Uncle Shaun," the word "uncle" sounding insulting in his ears.

However, Carter wasn't there, and it appeared that he hadn't been for some time. As Shaun shut the door behind him, he noticed empty pizza boxes and traces of life that hadn't been stirred in a while. Carter seemed like he always did: a little bit careless, a little bit impetuous, and a lot dirty. There was an open magazine on the end table near the bed, soiled linens, and garments scattered all over the floor. similar to his father in many ways.

Shaun systematically walked into the little flat, his lips thinning into a harsh line. Only a bedroom-kitchen and a small bathroom with a misaligned shower were there. Carter hadn't been home for a long, and it didn't take much to recognize that.

Shaun sat down on the bed and looked through the automobile magazine that was still on the stand, wondering what the heck he had gotten himself into this time.

Only 19 years old, Carter Taylor was. He was the son of Lieutenant Marcus Taylor, who served with Shaun on his second and third tours in Afghanistan and was one of his closest friends. Marcus Thompson, often known as "Syke" by his friends and blood brothers, was one of the roughest bastards Shaun had the pleasure of knowing. He had a smile on his face and a tongue that was always cracking horribly cringeworthy jokes.

A weretiger named Syke had probably rescued each member of his squad at least once. He repeatedly yanked the people with worse luck out of harm's way. He was the sort of man that the younger population looked up to and desired to be since he was a veteran with more tours than most of the other guys in his unit. Therefore, it had been a blow to everyone when Syke passed away while he was pulling Shaun out of the field after he had been hit in the leg, precisely around that blasted knee where he would later receive another shot.

Shaun felt accountable on a personal level. When Syke was in his arms bleeding out from a chest wound that was already plainly deadly before they tore apart the vest and uniform covering it to allow the medic a chance to see if there was anything they could do for him, he had stated as much. Additionally, Syke had instructed him to stop talking and maintain his composure because it was what needed to be done.

Shaun's only request from Syke was that he watch over his child. No matter how nuts in the head he was at the time, Shaun had every intention of honouring his vow. In order to be closer to Carter, Shaun had left active service as soon as he could after Syke's passing, albeit that wasn't the only reason. Carter, who at the time was fourteen and still naive, worshipped his father for good reason. A few years before, breast cancer had claimed the life of his mother.

Shaun and Carter were a strange pair. They were both fighting to find motivation to carry on because they didn't have anybody else in their lives.Carter was destined to live with his aunt and uncle following Syke's passing, so Shaun would see him whenever he could. When Carter turned eighteen, it seemed as though he had made up his mind about the world and wanted to join the Marines to follow in his father's footsteps.

To be completely honest, Shaun wasn't sure whether keeping him away from it was really a smart idea. It had taken far too much tequila and many chats to get him to change his mind. However, he had sensed something was off when he had voluntarily relocated to Negros City and texted Shaun about it rather than phoning.

He had started returning Shaun's calls, which furthered that conclusion. Shaun was aware that something was awry as he sat in that dilapidated small apartment in the center of one of the poorest districts in Negros City.

He got to his feet, making unconscious fists out of his hands. For once, Shaun wasn't the source of the problem. Instead, there was something wrong.

I must track him down.

Thankfully, Shaun had discovered the one thing that would enable him to avoid thinking about Dani for longer than an hour or so. He detested the idea that it had to be this way nevertheless.