Origin story told, let’s head back to the present.

After dealing with Clarence, I made my way back to my car and called Alex when I was inside.

“How’d it go, Highlander?” she asked.

“He pissed himself,” I laughed.

“Another successful operation in the books for Sheffield and Fox.”

“Fox and Sheffield,” I corrected. “I’m doing all the heavy lifting.”

Alex laughed. She was always at her happiest just after one of our operations, even if I had to kill the target. She must have felt the same way I did: once they willfully took innocent lives, they no longer qualified as human beings—just pests that needed to be dealt with.

“Whatever, tough guy. You can lift that not-so-heavy wallet because drinks are on you this time.”

I nodded, even though she couldn’t see it.

“Fair enough. My place after you get off?”

“Solid copy on that.”

We disconnected, neither of us knowing that we wouldn’t make it to drinks that night. The universe had other plans for us.

Shoving my phone into my pocket, I looked up to see that I was blocked into my parking spot by a large, black SUV idling behind me. It seemed to be blocking me in intentionally. Could Clarence have gotten his people here this quickly?

Well, this can’t be good.

“What the hell?” I asked myself, already stepping out of the car. Better get this over with, whatever it was.

As I approached the SUV, the passenger window rolled down and I assumed this was the part where a gun barrel slid out and put a bullet in my head. Obviously, that wouldn’t kill me, but what if I really was like a Highlander and they could kill me by cutting my head off? I mean, I highly doubt I could regenerate after a decapitation. Alex and I joked about it, but I’d always thought that was probably a surefire way of ending me for real. I could only hope that there was no giant, tattooed, leather-clad, sword-wielding bald guy out there somewhere listening to Queen and screaming “There can only be one!” while speeding toward my house.

Thankfully, no gun—or sword—came out. Instead, the window’s absence revealed the smiling face of a man in his late fifties or early sixties. He was a dead ringer for Liam Neeson. Now, I was absolutely sure that I wouldn’t survive a throat chop from Liam Neeson, so I decided to stay calm and not reach for any of my weapons. I was still within chopping range, after all.

“Jack Fox,” he said in greeting. Shit, he even sounded like Liam Neeson.

“Sorry, no. My name is Kevin and I work over at Borders. I was just—”

“Borders has been closed for years, Jack,” Liam informed me in a way that can only be described as aggressively friendly. “We’re not here to hurt you, we know what you are, and we’re here to help. Hop in.”

“Well, when you put it that way…” I trailed off, not seeing a way out of this. Also, I didn’t really want to say no to Liam Neeson. How many times have I said Liam Neeson in the last four or five paragraphs? Too many times?

Liam Neeson.

Moving on, I did as instructed by Li—by the nice fellow in the passenger seat—and obediently climbed into the back seat of the SUV.

There was only one other person in the vehicle aside from the aforementioned Hollywood doppelgänger—and he was another Hollywood doppelgänger. This one was Kiefer Sutherland.

Incredible.

“My name is Victor Morrow,” said Liam, turning in his seat and offering his hand.

I shook it.

“Any relation to Tom?” I asked, jokingly.

He smiled politely to let me know that he understood the joke but that it wasn’t exactly a zinger.

“This is my associate, David Hawkins,” he said, motioning to the driver, Kiefer Sutherland.

I nodded slowly. A Kiefer Sutherland clone named David? You’ve got to be kidding me. How is this real life?

Try the rice, Michael.

“Nice to meet you guys,” I said awkwardly, pushing all thoughts of the Lost Boys out of my head. “Maybe you’ll tell me why I’m here now?”

“We have an offer to extend to you,” Victor replied. “And before you try to deny it: we know exactly what you are.”

I shrugged.

“A borderline alcoholic?”

David chuckled at that.

“An immortal,” Victor shot back, sapping my good humor immediately.

I was slightly taken aback. Did Alex drunkenly tell somebody? How could these two know the truth about me? I decided not to play stupid anymore.

“How?” I asked.

“You ever hear the phrase ‘takes one to know one?’”

I shrugged again.

“Nope, that’s a new one,” I deadpanned. However, a very old thought began gnawing at me once again, clawing its way out of my past.

Were there more people like me?

“Are you…?” I prompted.

“I am. So is David.”

There’s no way that could be true, right? Two more immortals, right here in front of me?

“Why should I believe you?”

Victor blinked once.

“Has anyone else ever known you were an immortal?”

“Good point,” I conceded, deciding to leave Alex out of the conversation. “How many more of you are there?”

“A considerable amount. And I believe the term you were looking for is ‘us.’”

I shrugged again.

“Is it magic—immortality?”

It was Victor’s turn to shrug.

“More like a science humanity doesn’t yet understand. From what little we know, our cells do not degrade, we’re able to rapidly regenerate and heal damage and, eventually, even our aging stops.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean by ‘stops?’” I asked.

“David was in his forties when he stopped aging. I was fifty-eight—not quite so lucky. Still, I am nearing three hundred years old.”

I thought about it for a moment in silence. I’m thirty-three. I don’t think my face and body have seen any changes in at least five years, maybe more. If Victor wasn’t bullshitting me, this was strong evidence that I’d stopped aging. It was a tough concept to wrap my mind around.

There was a lot of game-changing information being thrown at me in a short period of time, and I was starting to feel overwhelmed. I didn’t really know how to react to any of this, especially since two strangers had just abducted me and casually revealed my biggest secret. And I still didn’t know where they were taking me.

“We also know what you do—your secret operations dealing with the city’s untouchable criminals,” he announced with a grin.

What the actual fuck? How could he know about that? Nobody outside Alex or myself knew what we did. We were meticulous and careful. There’s no way he could know unless Alex talked.

“How could you possibly know about that?” I asked, my jaw hanging slightly open. There was no sense playing stupid—these guys knew everything.

“We watch everything. There is very little that we don’t know—especially when it concerns one of our kind. It’s part of the reason we came to find you, but we’ll discuss that more later. You protect people from threats that they have no power to stop. You are exactly the type of person we need, your skillset uniquely suited for our purposes. We’ve been following your extracurricular ‘career’ for quite some time and we are impressed, to say the very least.”

I sighed and shook my head. Was all of this really happening?

“You keep saying, ‘We.’ Who are ‘We?’ Why did you really come to find me?” The questions poured out. “Do you have some kind of cool immortal clubhouse where everyone hangs out talking about how old and not dead they are?”

Victor laughed, seemingly unfazed by my lack of maturity.

“You’ll get all of your answers soon enough. And, like I mentioned earlier, we found you because you have a very particular set of skills and we need your help.”

Hang on.

Did the Liam Neeson lookalike just use the phrase “very particular set of skills?” Come on. He has to know, right?

“What do you need me to help with?” I asked.

“I think we should show you our organization first, and then it’ll be quite a bit easier to explain.”

Our organization.

“So, there is a clubhouse,” I half-joked.

Next Chapter: Chapter Five