A Soldier's Oath. Debra Webb

Spencer’s second home since he’d arrived in the Windy City. He used the pay phone at the end of the bar and made the call.

      What the hell had he been thinking?

      That he had to get his life back? That somehow, things had to start making sense again before he lost himself completely?

      Yes to both of the above.

      Spencer moistened his lips and fought back the craving for a drink. One didn’t go with the other. If he was going to make this work he had to keep his head together.

      He could do it.

      He banished the nagging voice that tried to tell him otherwise.

      “No going backward,” he muttered. This was his chance to go forward again. He couldn’t screw it up.

      Spencer climbed out of the car. He glanced first left then right before crossing the street. He didn’t know that much about Jim Colby, but he did know the Colby Agency’s esteemed reputation.

      He didn’t fully understand Jim’s decision to start his own firm rather than working at his mother’s prestigious agency, but he did trust Lucas Camp.

      The name reverberated through him. He’d never actually met the man, but he knew the name, and that was more than sufficient. Five years was a long time. The mission was one of those unwinnable situations where no one was going to walk away satisfied. Still, the mission was crucial. There had been only two members of Spencer’s team left by the time a special unit was brought in to attempt a rescue.

      Mission Recovery.

      Spencer had never heard of the unit. Some black-ops organization loosely attached to the CIA, he’d learned later. Lucas Camp had been the deputy director.

      Lucas Camp’s unit had saved Spencer’s life and the lives of his two remaining team members. If this gig panned out, Spencer would owe Lucas Camp for saving his hide yet a second time.

      Maybe he would get the opportunity to thank him in person. Spencer had no idea how the hell Lucas Camp knew he was in Chicago. No, wait. That wasn’t true. Camp had been, probably still was, even if only in an advisory capacity, attached to the CIA. Getting intimate information about the Pope himself wouldn’t be a problem for a man like him.

      Spencer had to admit, having anyone vouch for him these days was a plus. Maybe the whole world didn’t see him as a traitor.

      That same old fury started to burn deep in his gut. He suppressed the triggered feelings. Thinking about the past would be detrimental to the present, not to mention the future. He had to make a clean break.

      That time was now.

      He paused at the door to consider the sign. The Equalizers. Interesting moniker. He considered what Colby had told him in their brief meeting. His target client base was those whose troubles couldn’t be resolved so easily within the boundaries of the law. He wondered what would make a man like Jim Colby veer that close to criminal activity. From what Spencer knew, the Colby Agency had an impeccable reputation, one respected by clients and law enforcement alike. What made the one and only son of the owner of that esteemed agency different?

      Secrets of his own, Spencer surmised. Maybe he and Colby had something in common—a history best left in the past.

      Spencer braced himself and reached for the door. Now or never. This was his chance to start over. He couldn’t let it get away. He owed it to himself.

      Taking into account the fact that he would otherwise have died five years ago, he owed it to Lucas Camp. He just hoped like hell that he had still had it in him to live up to the man’s recommendation.

      A new kind of enthusiasm kindled inside him. Jim Colby had told him that his mother was now married to Lucas Camp. If Lucas had recommended him, that meant he wanted Spencer working with Jim. So, he could look at this from the standpoint that not only would he be doing himself a favor by getting his life back together, he’d also be doing Camp a favor. A bit of a stretch, but, hey, it wasn’t completely implausible.

      Not only was it plausible, the concept served as plenty of motivation for doing this right.

      Inside the brownstone, the lobby area was deserted. A desk and a couple of chairs. No receptionist or waiting clients. The decorating reminded him of most military offices, unremarkable and rather drab. Not a problem. After graduating college he’d spent ten years in the army he’d loved. Drab was a preferred color.

      Tension rippled through him and Spencer drew in a deep breath before ordering himself to stay calm. He already knew Colby wanted him on his team. The rest would be nothing more than technicalities. This wasn’t an interview, it was a negotiation.

      The smell of fresh-brewed coffee wafted from somewhere down the hall. Spencer had about decided to head that way when Jim Colby appeared.

      “Right on time.” He raised his steaming cup. “Coffee?”

      “Coffee would be good.” Spencer had already downed three cups but he could definitely use another. The caffeine helped him battle the need for additional fortification. What he now had to consider forbidden fortification.

      “Follow me.”

      Colby led the way to a small kitchen that Spencer presumed would serve as an employee lounge. Refrigerator, microwave, sink and a couple of cabinets. His would-be employer passed him a brimming mug.

      “Thanks.” The coffee tasted as good as it smelled.

      “My office is upstairs.”

      Spencer nodded and followed Colby to the second floor. Though the brownstone’s decor hadn’t been updated in a couple of decades, the architecture made it comfortable and interesting in a classic sort of way. The location wasn’t one of the most desired in the city, but the neighborhood appeared in the early stages of revitalization. A year or two from now and the streets would be teeming with thriving businesses and highly sought-after lofts. Colby’s selection of the location was probably a strategic one.

      A sleek wooden desk and leather chair, along with a couple of upholstered chairs for clients, were already stationed in Colby’s office. Unpacked boxes of office equipment as well as supplies were scattered about, along with the necessary filing cabinets. Looked as if the boss was well on his way to settling in.

      “I’m still getting organized,” Colby said as he took the chair behind his desk. “I’ll be interviewing receptionists this morning. I hope we’ll have someone to answer the phone by lunchtime.”

      We. Anticipation spiked before Spencer could stop the possibly premature reaction. “What’s your current body count?” Might as well get a handle on the personnel arrangement and chain of command before he made any kind of commitment beyond this impulsive appearance.

      “So far, two. Me,” Colby said with a pointed look at him, “and you.”

      His answer surprised Spencer. So he really was getting in on the ground floor of a new venture. “What’s your operational plan?” Learning the exact nature of what he was getting into here was the first order of business. He wasn’t about to be caught off guard again in this lifetime.

      “I hope to hire at least three associates.”

      Associates. Not investigators. This nudged Spencer’s curiosity.

      “What types of cases do you plan to take on?” The answer to this question was key in many ways. The clientele at any firm was the primary factor in how the firm was judged by others. Though he seriously doubted that Lucas Camp would recommend him for a position within a firm that wasn’t on the up and up, Spencer hadn’t missed the look in Jim Colby’s eyes when he’d talked about helping those whose troubles went beyond the law’s boundaries.

      “Pretty much whatever walks through the door.” Colby set his coffee aside. “In the beginning it may be necessary to take cases we’ll choose not to take later on. Right now our primary objective is to get our name out there. To let people know we’ve set up shop. This business thrives on word