The Protector (Game of Chance, #1)(3)

“Fuck me,” Bob groaned. “What the hell are we going to do for a living in a town like that?”

JJ sighed. It was a good question. “I know what we’re not going to do,” he blurted. “Anything to do with security. Or being a bodyguard. Or private investigations. Too many people get out of the military and do that shit anyway. I’ve had enough of guns. Of death. Of putting my life on the line for others. I want to do something . . . normal.”

“I agree,” Chappy said seriously.

“Me too,” Bob said. “But seriously, what will we do? Let’s face it, we aren’t actually qualified to do much more than what we’ve been doing.”

There was silence for a moment before JJ said, “Let’s take some time to think about it. Think about Maine. Think about what you enjoy doing in your spare time—and no laughing. Yes, I realize we haven’t had much spare time, ever. Maybe something you’ve always wanted to do but haven’t had the opportunity. Then we’ll Rochambeau again.”

JJ had no idea if they’d actually follow through, if they’d really let a game decide their fate, but the more he thought about moving to Maine, the more the idea appealed. He’d had his fill of mankind. People were endlessly cruel. He and his men knew that firsthand. Too many people were self-centered, entitled, concerned only about themselves, and too willing to shove their beliefs down other people’s throats. With every passing year, there was less tolerance for differences, for accepting people as they were.

JJ was sick of all of it. He’d happily move to a quiet, sleepy little town and eke out a living with his friends, even if it made his dream of starting a family far less likely. Finding a woman who could look beyond what he’d done in the military and love him for who and what he was would be a whole lot harder in the wilds of Maine.

Ten minutes or so went by, and it was Chappy who said, “Are we ready?”

“Let’s do this,” Bob replied firmly.

JJ played Bob in the first round, and Chappy played Cal. Then, it was Chappy and Bob in the final round.

Chappy made a fist and Bob held up two fingers.

“Shit! I never win this stupid game,” Bob griped.

Everyone chuckled.

“So? What’re we doing for the rest of our lives?” JJ asked Chappy.

“Lumberjacks,” he said with a wide grin.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Cal griped.

“Nope,” Chappy said with the same shit-eating grin on his face. “I figure Maine has trees. A lot of them. I’m sure they’re always falling over in people’s yards and on roads and stuff. We can start a tree service. Cutting them down, pulling up stumps, things like that.”

While Bob and Cal groaned, JJ nodded. “The Appalachian Trail is in Maine too. I’m not sure how close it is to Newton. Cal? Do you know? Did the show say?”

“They talked about the ‘AT,’ but I didn’t know what that was,” Cal admitted.

“Awesome. So the trails will need maintenance too. We could be trail maintainers. They’re actually a real thing . . . people who’re responsible for certain sections of a trail. They make sure it’s clear, keep the trail markers maintained, watch over any camps in their area, and generally act as the experts on their particular section,” JJ said.

“You mean we could actually hike without worrying about being stealthy or who might be following, trying to kill our asses?” Bob asked. “I’m in.”

“Maybe we could even hire ourselves out as guides,” Chappy said. “I mean, I’m thinking we probably wouldn’t be busy nonstop with the tree stuff, so we could escort people who’re unsure about the AT or who’d just feel more comfortable having someone familiar with the area leading them.”

“And we could help if anyone got lost,” Cal added. “I have a friend who got out of the service and now lives in Virginia. He’s a search and rescue volunteer.”

“Remember that woman who got lost a few years ago?” JJ asked. “Geraldine Largay?”

“Yeah. She went off trail to go to the bathroom and got turned around. There was a huge search, but her body wasn’t found until two years or so later. She’d died of exposure and starvation.”

They were all silent for a moment, remembering the tragedy.

“I’m in,” Bob said firmly.

“Me too,” Cal agreed.

“Me three,” JJ said with a nod.

“Jack’s Lumber,” Chappy announced.

“What?” Bob questioned.

“That’s what we’ll call our business. As a nod to JJ, who’s always been our leader. And as a play on the word ‘lumberjack.’”

As the other three men discussed what services they might offer, how much they could charge, where they might want to live, JJ relaxed against the hard wall behind him, a lump in his throat. The plan to distract his friends had worked. They weren’t dreading when their captors would return. Weren’t thinking about how much pain they were in.

They had hope for a better future.

Now, all they needed to do was get out of this hellhole and make their plans come to fruition. It would take money—which the four of them had, since they’d had few chances to spend the cash they’d earned over the years—determination, hard work, and an open mind.