Shadow Born: A Joseph Hunter Novel: Book 1 (Joseph Hunter Series)

of boxers. I found a towel.
I wrapped it around my waist and entered the bathroom to assess the damage I had taken last night. You haven’t met Xander yet, but when you do, you’ll realize why I made a quick pitstop in front of the mirror. He’s a little like that Christian fundamentalist, judgmental aunt you always hated as a kid, except he doesn’t stamp your cheek with bright-red lipstick.
After making sure any dried vomit and dog shit was washed off my face, I checked myself out. I had stubble clouding my jawline, and my light-brown hair stood on end in a thick, curly mess. My body, riddled with runic tattoos, still held a little definition from my mid-twenties. I flexed, forcing my abs to appear, and then I shot my reflection with finger pistols—I even made the sound effects. Pew, pew, pew.
“Still got it,” I said, flashing a devilish smile.
The living room was on the opposite side of the house. So, I had yet to see Xander, and he had yet to see me. The tension was all too much to handle. Would we fall in love again after all these years? Had he become fat and ugly with age? Throwing those thoughts aside, I headed into the kitchen, briefly stopping in the foyer to grab my phone from the entry bowl. The smell of fresh coffee Xander must have started drove me wild.
First thing’s first, though.
I found some rice, dumped it in a mixing bowl, and shoved my phone in there to dry. Then, I grabbed a Deadpool coffee mug from the upper cabinet.
“You already help yourself to some coffee?” I asked, raising my voice to carry into the living room.
“It just finished brewing,” he called back. “You mind pouring me some?”
“I see nothing as changed,” I said, grabbing another mug—it had a red and blue Spider-Man design. I love comic book characters. Get over it. “You start something, and I always have to finish it. Also, there’s I enjoy more than serving coffee to the man who just broke into my house.”
He coughed. “How’s your head after last night?”
“You’re stalking me, now?” I poured the black gold into the mugs. “No means no, my friend. I’m not interested in you. Cream or sugar? I forget how you take it—other than hard.”
“No, thank you.”
Xander was naturally a bitter kind of guy. So, I poured a little sugar into his coffee, not really caring what his preferences were. I grabbed both our mugs and walked around the corner of the kitchen and into the living room.
Xander sat in my recliner, left leg crossed over his right. After high school, he had received a full scholarship to play college football as a linebacker, but he chose a military career. Over the past decade, he hadn’t lost a step to time. He filled my chair the way busty cartoon characters had once filled my adolescent mind. Don’t be weirded out by that comment. Have you seen any animated television adaptions of comic books? Anyway, before things get too weird, Xander wore camouflage pants and a black shirt that might have torn if he moved too fast.
He cocked his head, most likely curious about my disheveled appearance. “You look worse from up close,” he said. “Did you get even more tattoos? And when’s the last time you’ve shaved?” His face twisted. “Or showered?”
I ignored him, handing him the coffee cup before sitting on the edge of the living room table a couple feet across from him. I didn’t bother to cross my legs, allowing my towel to open where it pleased, and I placed my mug on the wood and removed his dog tags from my neck. “These yours?”
He leaned over and grabbed them, placing them back over his head and keeping his eyes above my nose. “Didn’t want to scare you,” he said. “Thought I’d give you a heads-up.”
“Why not just wait in the car? Or better yet,” I said, picking up my mug and blowing on the steam, “why not drive me home last night, before I passed out in Derek’s yard? Or, best of all, just leave me alone?”
Xander blew on his coffee and sipped, ignoring the questions and the sugar I had snuck in his drink.
I sighed after a moment of quiet. “What happened to the afro? I liked it.” I took a gulp from my mug, burning my tongue. Sometimes you had mornings where the coffee tasted like warm honey, and sometimes you had mornings where you woke up covered in dog shit and the coffee burned your tongue.
“Thought I would try something new. You’re not a fan?” he asked, rubbing his shiny, bald head.
“It fits you,” I said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know, clean-shaven. That’s your brand, my friend. Nothing wrong with it, just who you are. The afro betrayed your core.”
“I think… that you drink too much. Booze is clouding your logic and philosophies.” He held up his mug. “Cheers to old times.”
I chuckled, not lifting my mug. “Fuck old times,” I said.
“You’re still wearing your wedding ring, though. Seven years later.”
After a second, I cleared my throat. “You have a phone I can borrow? I need to make a call.”
“Yours didn’t hold up to the sprinkler damage? That’s bad advertising. They said that model was waterproof, didn’t they? You should get a refund, or at least a new one for free.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, getting pretty annoyed about his detailed intel on my whereabouts and actions and belongings. “We’ll get back to that. For now, can I borrow it?”
Xander tossed me his cell phone.
I nodded my gratitude. “Give me a second,” I said, walking back into the kitchen—not that moving rooms muted my conversation with the thin walls and small space, but sometimes the idea of privacy goes a long way. I dialed my boss’s number, which I had memorized because I dialed it all the time. My tardiness was not unusual.
The line rang three times before his gruff, soured voice answered. “Perkins,