Chapter One

Thrity-three year old Cole Taggert pulled his badly beaten pick-up truck into the slanted parking spot in front of Taggert's Bar and Grill. He had been gone for over a month and the site of the family's business was a very welcomed. Since it was a Thursday night, the bar was nearly empty except for the few patrons eating. Inside, he could see his father, Sam, and grandfather, Tom, sitting at the table in the middle of the floor, playing a game of chess. It was a tradition that each of the three Taggert's done while one was away on mission. It had started with Cole's great-grandparents. They would play while Tom was away at war or on a top secret mercenary mission for his country. It continued with his grandparents while his dad was away and now, the two oldest remaining Taggert's played while Cole was away. His grandmother and mother had died in a car crash six years ago while on a shopping trip and the lose of the two Taggert women only drew the three men closer together.

As he grabbed his green, military issued duffel bag, he groaned from the wounds that he had received on this last mission; two knife wounds and a bullet to the shoulder. His commander had told him that he would have at least a month to recover before heading back out again. Secretly, Cole holped that it would be longer. He just didn't know how much more he could handle. He had seen how PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) had effected his father and grandfather and knew beyond anything that this was what he was suffering from too.

Just as he lifted the large bag up, a movement inside caught his attention. He couldn't keep from smiling as his eyes followed the movement of the one person who could take his breath away from him, just looking his way; Abigal Brown. He had been a POW in the Gulf War and then nearly killed several times while on mercenary missions, but none of that scared him more than the small framed woman that moved about his families bar. Her long raven black hair was pulled back into a long cascading ponytail. He knew that once her sapphire blue eyes saw him, they would sparkle each time they were near each other. That was until he left again for another mission. She was at least six inches shorter than him, standing a mere five foot six. Her skin the color of freshly fallen snow and her lips as red as the blood that he had spilled when he was away serving his country. Getting a firmer grip on the bag, he headed in.

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It's only funny until someone gets hurt, then it's hilarious!