Free Unbreakable: A Section 8 Novel (A Section Eight Novel) by Stephanie Tyler

treatment. It had taken a month of men trying to kill him before they’d given up.
    Now he blinked at the man on the ground in front of him. He saw the guy’s chest rise and fall, and although Gunner had worked him over, he hadn’t done any irreparable damage.
    There’s still a part of you that’s always in control.
    He grabbed his bag and his shirt and strolled across the grass.
    “You forgot your winnings, James,” Landon called.
    “Keep it,” he said without turning around.
    In the privacy of the guesthouse—and it was private because he’d checked for cameras and bugs because Landon knew he didn’t handle that shit well—he stripped down and showered, washed the dirt and grass and blood off him. His injuries were minimal, but he couldn’t afford to look hurt. Not in front of this crew, which was meaner and rowdier than any Landon had ever employed.
    He’d need an ally when he spent time on the property. Or maybe Landon would keep him so busy he wouldn’t be on the property again.
    He stared at himself in the mirror for a few minutes, ran his hand through his wet hair. Then he plugged in the electric clippers, slid it through his hair and said good-bye to Gunner. Watched the blond hair fall all around him until his head was bald. The dark hair would grow in fast, but for now, this suited him. He hadn’t seen the tattoos along his scalp in years. Tribal designs floated across the left side of his skull. There was an eagle on the right that wrapped around the back. He’d wear a skullcap until his hair grew in and covered them again.
    Instead of being cathartic, the haircut instead reminded him of the first night he’d met Avery, when he’d helped to disguise her. At the time, he hadn’t known his father was the one who’d tried to kill her. No one had wanted to mention Powell, because they knew he’d know him. But they’d never suspected the biological connection.
    Avery’s blonde hair had immediately reminded him of Josie, and he told himself that’s all it was—the hair. But when he’d helped her cut and dye it, the attraction hadn’t gone with it. He’d wanted her more. And there wasn’t really any resemblance between the women, except in their take-no-shit-from-him attitudes.
    After watching her kiss Key at the bar, he’d broken two of his favorite tattoo guns and promised that when she walked back in, he was going to fucking kiss her silly. By the time she’d come back into his place, he’d calmed considerably and convinced himself it was the worstidea ever.
    It still was.
    He walked out of the bathroom and caught sight of the envelope on the bed. Fucker let himself in here and did that, a job that involved killing people left like a mint on his pillow, just because he could.
    The outside of the envelope read
I thought you could use an outlet for your aggression.
    Gunner ripped it open and found his plane tickets that had him leaving in the morning, plus the new job. He read the missive, then lit it on fire. He continued holding the papers in his hand until the flames rose and they burned down to nothing between his fingers.

Chapter Seven
    “T his is a bad idea,” Jem told her, five hours later as they traveled through the backwoods of the bayou in an old pickup truck he’d acquired.
    Avery didn’t ask from where. “So why agree to it?”
    “Never met a bad idea I didn’t like,” he retorted with a grin. He sobered immediately when he said, “You know how goddamned lucky you are to be sitting here right now?”
    “I know,” she said quietly. “Billie Jean’s out of surgery, but she’s still critical. I don’t know the names of the other exes to contact them.”
    “I’ve got a few searches going on that,” he said. But that wouldn’t help to warn those women anytime soon. “Suppose this guy who came in to ask about you is the one who tried to kill you?”
    “Then at least we’ll know,” she countered.
    “And if he’s not, we’re still screwed. But we’ll hunt