No Remorse
No Remorse
By
Sean Liebling
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner.
All Electronic and Print Editions
Copyright © 2016 Sean Liebling
All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission from the author.
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real persons, events, or places are purely coincidental; any references to actual places, people, or brands are fictitious. All rights reserved.
Cover Art by Shaed Studios, http://www.shaedstudios.com
Please visit us at http://www.seanliebling.com to join our mailing list and for additional content to this book, including expanded scenes and upcoming new releases.
More from Sean Liebling
Blood, Brains and Bullets
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00AVLL5XE
Legacy of the Living
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00DJKF602
The Reaper: No Mercy
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00OVGEXNY
The God Warriors
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00RDUTBSM
The Creation Effect
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00R9UIACY
The Reaper: Avenging Wraith
(The Reaper: Book 2)
Coming April, 2016!
A Capture and Surrender:
Sex and Submission Vol. 1
Coming April, 2016!
Razor Sharpe
Coming April, 2016!
Sharpe Edge:
Book 2 in the Razor Sharpe Episodes
Coming May, 2016!
You can reach me, and join my mailing list at mailto:sean@seanliebling.com,
or on facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/sean.liebling.9
And, please visit my website at: http://www.seanliebling.com
Dedications:
To my Son's James whom I could not be more proud and my other children.
To all those I love and cherish in my life, whether or not they supported me in this endeavor.
To all the brave men and women either currently in or having served in the Armed Forces of the United States of America, including all Police, Fire and Emergency Response personnel. From a Marine to all of you, I Salute You with Honor! Thank you for all that you do and have done. Semper Fi.
To my Beta group that helped with this novels flow.
Acknowledgements:
I would like to acknowledge a few people who inspired me and ultimately made me decide to write my own series of books.
To my family and friends who provided support and encouragement during the writing process and late night monthly BS sessions before, during, and after development.
The following people helped tremendously with getting this book out. My Beta Group. I love you. Special thanks to all of them.
*****
Author Note:
Many of you have wondered why I appear to be coming out with a great many new series, without finishing the others and only slipping in a novel here and there to continue them and keep myself and my fans happy. The answer is simple.
Several years ago when I first decided to write, which was something I had always dreamed of doing and to gain perspective and an insight into the publishing business, I joined a great many blogs and authors groups, both on websites and on facebook. There I shared my dreams and more importantly my ideas. It was common for me to discuss the plots and characters of the various series I dreamed of writing, with various authors and groups. This was a mistake.
By the time I had published my third book, The Reaper: No Mercy, I was seeing copycats of the other series I had already plotted out. In fact, even a couple of my covers were copied. It is sad that some authors are not original thinkers and rely on others for their idea and steal wholesale entire storylines. This did not make me sick, this made me angry.
That is why I am belting out a couple books in each of the series I originally planned and when that is done, I will go back and finish them all. One at a time.
I hope this helps all of you fans to understand my method of operation.
Best Always,
Sean Liebling
Table of Contents:
No Mistakes
More from Sean Liebling
Dedications:
Acknowledgements:
Author Note:
Table of Contents:
Chapter One:
Chapter Two:
Chapter Three:
Chapter Four:
Chapter Five:
Chapter Six:
Chapter Seven:
Chapter Eight:
Chapter Nine:
Chapter Ten:
Chapter Eleven:
Chapter Twelve:
Chapter Thirteen:
Chapter Fourteen:
Chapter Fifteen:
Chapter Sixteen:
Chapter Seventeen:
Chapter Eighteen:
Chapter Nineteen:
Chapter Twenty:
Chapter Twenty-One:
Chapter Twenty-Two:
Chapter Twenty-Three:
Chapter Twenty-Four:
Chapter Twenty-Five:
Chapter Twenty-Six:
Chapter Twenty Seven:
Chapter Twenty-Eight:
Chapter Twenty-Nine:
No Mistakes:
#2 in the Ethan Sword Series
Prologue: 1172
Chapter One: 3077
More from Sean Liebling
Chapter One:
This morning was like any other. The stars were brilliant in the night sky, a thin haze of impending fog floating on the whispering wings of pre-dawn. His thick dark blue sweats with the light spring jacket, also equally dark and well-worn tennis shoes kept off the chill, although he could still feel the faint dampness in the air against his face and hands as he walked the parameter of his property as he did every morning to wake up fully.
It was almost time to read the news, as soon as his coffee was perked, that is. Another day, another cycle of the living and dead. Both haunted Ethan, for better, or for worse. In a bit, he would go back inside, drink his coffee and see what was happening on the internet. Ethan stood still for a moment, simply listening to the early morning night, his six-foot two-inch heavily muscled frame stood still as his piercing blue eyes, topped by short black hair roamed his moonlit surroundings.
Ethan Sword sighed, watching as his breath plumed before his face, discoloring the darkness with a fluff of white effervescence. Early to bed, early to rise, his father used to say. No, correction, his grandfather used to say this, as his father was often either too busy or away on assignment to pay attention to his only child. However, although his grandfather had a large repertoire of witty axioms, he was not responsible for the shaping of Ethan's life choices; someone else handled that just fine.
Innocence lost, a youth in disarray, two fortunate or perhaps unfortunate lonely souls once upon a time met long ago. Father dying when he was eight, mother caught up in her own world afterwards with little time for a young son. Moving into a small country home after the death, and being scorned by his peers at the new inner-city school he attended, after being ripped
from his old.
He smiled softly as he turned at the northwest side of his home and started walking towards his back door. Too early for the coffee to be ready, the damn pot was getting old and took twenty minutes to brew, versus the five when it was new. This indicated it was time to buy another. Ethan paused as he saw a radiance shining through the trees. Although a thick beltway of foliage separated his property from his next-door neighbors, the brightly illuminated windows were clearly visible in the predawn darkness.
Ethan knew all his neighbors and while he would not exactly call them close friends, except for maybe their children, he had known them for years since he bought the old Price place and fixed it up. It gave him something to do, while being currently unemployed by choice. He knew that shortly he would be loading his SUV with the Stihl chainsaw, extra blades, oil and gas; off to his new line of work as he called it. Ethan laughed thinking about that, work, and a four-letter word. In reality, he played at lumberjack. All he really did was cut wood for himself and a few of the neighbors he had grown somewhat close too over the years.
Maybe this weekend he would think about shooting some pool down at one of the local bars although he usually shied away from that much contact. However, it was socializing, and that was something he was told was important, his reintegration into society. Simply for the sake of it, as Ethan knew he was still having trouble adjusting to civilian life, even after all these years. He needed something to keep the memories at bay, the dreams recessed, replaced with new memories and dreams that would supplant those in the dark corners of his mind, ghosts from a previous life.
Now, as he saw that radiance, gleaming through the trees, Ethan's internal radar lit up bright as he came to a halt near the corner of his four-bedroom ranch. Suddenly, every nerve ending was tingling and unconsciously he found himself moving in the direction of his neighbor's house, his gate lengthening yet at the same time taking on an almost feline grace as his body lowered, his feet placing themselves carefully, avoiding the small twigs and clusters of leaves on the ground. Ethan did not know what was wrong, only that something was.
The brightly lit home was that of Kyle and Carol Dagon, along with their two young children, Paul and Sarah. Maybe this morning they had risen early for a reason, like an impromptu vacation, he thought. Still, something was unusual in this situation. Perhaps it was simply the break in pattern, an anomaly, although individuals stepped outside their normal behavior from time to time for various reasons. No, they were probably just getting up early. However, what was Kyle doing up at 4am. Ethan knew why he himself was up, but Kyle? Kyle was never up at four, ever. The man had never risen before seven in the ten years Ethan had known him. Kyle was not the early riser Ethan was, not that they were what most would call good friends, but they were neighbors and Kyle was never up this early, not in all the time Ethan lived here. Ethan continued to ponder the situation in the dark recesses of his mind when he drew closer and noticed every single light in the house appeared to be lit, as he originally suspected.
Ethan knew precisely what time it was, four-sixteen in the morning. Sixteen minutes after he awoke, took a quick shower, started the coffee, and then began his parameter walk. A daily habit, but that was currently Ethan, boring, repetitive, and following along the familiar lines of a habit that had saved his life more times than he could count. Just as his three-mile run and then workout after consuming his daily large ration of the caffeine beverage coffee; his morning routine.
Ethan watched his neighbor's house for a moment as he neared the tree line, then began to move forward again only slower. Kyle and Carol were good people, their children even better, full of life and taking joy in each new day. Well, at least he thought of them as good people even though they were not as close as they might be. A relative thought concerning the state of today's world, but it worked for him.
Crossing the open ground after leaving the cover of thick trees, his steps angled to take him to the side where the backdoor resided, where Ethan knew the kitchen lay just beyond its entryway. If his neighbors were up, he knew the kitchen was the place they would likely be, but why were they up? He almost paused, thinking this might be considered intruding into their private affairs, but the nagging feeling persisted and he kept moving forward rounding the corner...and froze.
Before him, perhaps half a score of feet away, Ethan saw the vertical gleam of a door partially open, along with the partial outline of the washer that sat near the opening. Why was the back door open, he wondered in thought. Then he stopped all thought, as he allowed his mind to process the information it was receiving, a process that took mere seconds. Silence ensued from the home, although it was brightly lit, a silence broken only by the soft breeze rusting through the trees and lilac bushes, almost into their flowering time. It was too silent. No TV. No hiss from a coffee pot. No clanking of pans making breakfast. No breakfast smells coming from the door. No idle chatter or groans from children woken too early. Silent...Too silent.
Ethan did not speak, he did not call out as his feet moved silently, as silently as the dew-laden grass would allow, which was quiet indeed. This was alarming and now he actually had to think, but he was thinking already, and those thoughts were moving at the speed of light. Call Ethan old fashioned or call him former military, as both fit. Fit to a T.
Something was not right. An unnatural silence, he thought. He felt briefly like calling out then squelched that inner dialog within himself. Now was not the time, and this was not right. Everything about this situation was off and hairs rose all over his body to accompany the tingling of his nerves. Then he heard the sob, a brief hiccup in the cosmos of time. Ethereal and almost silent, but he heard it. Ethan's heart thudded within his chest. Adrenaline started to flow. He knew its telltale signs, as he was no stranger to the feeling or the effects. Subconsciously his body mass lowered at least six inches as he began to crouch, moving forward in a silent shuffle. Ethan was not sure why. Call it experience, call it training. Call it any damn thing you wish, but it is what it is.
His guns were back at the house and he suddenly felt they were needed but had no time to retrieve them as urgency resounded within his soul when he heard that sound again. A sob, whimper-like sob. It could have come from any gender, anybody, so why did he know it was from Sarah? He just knew! Hell, when he decided to check on his neighbors, all he wanted was to make sure they were ok and perhaps grab a cup of coffee while his was brewing. Why was his mind, his ears, hearing a sob, a lonely sob in the darkness?
Ethan knew something was very wrong when he saw the backdoor open. Well, not exactly open, as it was only cracked a half inch to an inch, but that was enough. Even when it was a hundred degrees during midday in the summer, Kyle never left his door open as Carol, his wife, was deathly afraid of bats that might sneak in and bite you. Perhaps even give you rabies. Then you would run around in circles, ripping at your clothes, before tearing at your eyes while bloody froth spewed from your mouth, then you would die. Even on a hundred degree summer day, according to Carol, the bats would come in and cause this. They were hunters... Just like Ethan was. All of these thoughts had already run through his mind, but only briefly as he was now in overdrive, no longer thinking.
So, he moved closer to the opening, only silently, taking precautions. Briefly he thought about returning home, grabbing a gun and then he heard the sob once more, a sob accompanied but a sharp squeak as one experiencing pain might emit, then a sobbing whimper, followed by a voiced plea. "Why?"He knew then it was Sarah. Of that, there was zero doubt. Little, precious eleven-year-old Sarah. This was not Ethan's fight, so why was he here? He knew why, the thought did not enter his mind, simply the feeling of sudden desire to help his neighbor. To help little Sarah. Ethan was now involved and a sense of urgency flooded his being as the choking cry was abruptly cut off. No time to call the police.
Kyle's my neighbor Ethan told himself, and Sarah's his kid, his child. No! She was a child in danger and something bad was happening. Something he wan
ted no part of but was now involved. Rolling his head on his shoulders, loosening the muscles and vertebrae, he prepared himself before glancing down to the side of the house next to the partially open doorway. He crouched further his head and upper body leaned forward, listening intently. It was then he heard them, several of them: At least three and all males, none belonging to Kyle. However, that only meant he could hear three of them, which meant there was no telling how many intruders were actually in the house, as he was now convinced they were intruders.
Ethan pictured them in his mind, sitting near each other. One at or near the mudroom entranceway into the kitchen, another inside the kitchen, probably sitting at the table. The more distant sounds from Sarah and another in the living room, laying down, bound, a stranger sitting cross-legged in front of her while toying with the helpless girl. It fit. Anger rose but he squashed it down as fast, just as he had in the Stan. This was now a mission. Perhaps Sarah was simply asking why she needed to rise this early and whimpering from lack of sleep. No, this was something else! There was no reason for lights to be on at four in the morning and strange men in their home. Ethan's heart thudded in his chest as he leaned even closer, hoping to hear the voices of Paul, Kyle and Carol. Paul was eight and he complained more than Sarah. No nothing, so this was something different, something bad and someone that needed help. Ethan sighed as he made his decision and did not look back.
No mistakes. No Guilt. No remorse. No Mercy...
In battle, your mind must be clear at all times. A successful engagement is the kill in one to three strokes, with no extended fight. That is when you lose, or are wounded. Above all, never hesitate, ever! That is when you die. This was all taught to him long ago and Ethan never forgot, as he had used that advice frequently.
Ethan dropped into the zone, all emotion faded, and his senses took on an all encompassing awareness of his surroundings. Crouching even lower, his eyes took in his dimly lit setting, illuminated by the soft glow of light emanating from the interior of the house through the partially open doorway and its small inset window. There, that would work nicely! Leaning against the exterior siding of the home was a weeding tool. Twelve inches of half-inch hexagonal bar steel, flattened at one end, with a wooden handle encasing the other. It was normally used to drive into soft earth at an angle to severe the roots of a weed, such as a dandelion, then with a simply jerk of your hand, the offending plant could easily be pulled and cast aside. Normally, that is, for Ethan had other uses for it now.