Unforgiven

One shot...one kill. The sixteen-pound sledgehammer came down with such fierce power that the granite boulder shattered instantly. A spray of glittering mica exploded into the air and sparkled momentarily around the man who wielded the tool as if it were a weapon. Sweat ran in rivulets down Reno Manchahi's drawn face. Naked from the waist up, feeling the hot July sun beating down on his back, he hefted the sledgehammer skyward once more. Muscles in his forearms leaped and biceps bulged. Even his breath was focused on the boulder. In his mind's eye, he pictured Army General Robert Hampton's fleshy, arrogant, fifty-year-old features on the rock's surface. Air exploded from between his thinned lips as he brought the avenging hammer downward. The boulder pulverized beneath his funneled hatred. One shot...one kill... Nostrils flaring, Reno inhaled the dank, humid heat and drew it deep into his lungs. The only way he felt alive was to picture Hampton on every rock he destroyed. Revenge allowed Reno to endure his imprisonment at a U.S. Navy brig near San Diego, California. Droplets of sweat were flung in all directions as the crack of his sledgehammer claimed a third boulder victim. Mouth taut, Reno moved to the next one. The other prisoners in the stone yard gave him a wide berth, since they instinctively felt his simmering hatred, the revenge that was palpable in his cinnamon-colored eyes. And they whispered that he was different. Reno enjoyed being a loner for good reason. He came from a medicine family of shape-shifters. The genes and training he'd inherited allowed him to transform from human to jaguar at will. But even this secret power had not protected him--or his family. What life did he have left? His wife, Ilona, and his three-year-old daughter, Sarah, were dead. Murdered by Army General Hampton in their former home on the USMC base in Camp Pendleton, California. The lusting son of a bitch had stalked Reno's Hungarian-born wife while Reno was deployed to Afghanistan to hunt down the Taliban. Bitterness thrummed through him as he savagely pushed the toe of his scarred leather boot against smaller stones that were in his way. A massive black-and-white striated boulder stood in front of him. The prisoners, all military, knew he'd want the big ones. They were happy to give them to Manchahi. They wanted him to take his rage out on the rocks--not on them. The sun poured down upon Manchahi's bare chest, grown dark red over time. From his straight black hair grazing his shoulders, his copper skin, broad face and high cheekbones, everyone knew he was Indian. When he'd first arrived at the brig and they'd discovered he was part Apache, some of the prisoners had taunted him and called him Geronimo. Only once did they provoke him. During the fight that ensued, something strange had happened. Leaning down after he'd won the scuffle, Reno snarled into each of their bloodied faces that if they were going to call him anything, it should began,the Apache word for "devil." His assailants had been shocked at the wounds on their faces--deep claw marks. Reno recalled doubling his fists as they'd attacked him en masse. In that split second, he had felt as if he'd gone into an altered state of consciousness. Because he had feared for his life, his jaguar guide had started to come over his physical body to protect him. A deep, growling sound had emitted from his throat as he defended himself in the three-against-one fracas. For an instant, strange changes occurred to his body--so fast, he thought he might have imagined them. His hands had morphed into the forelegs and paws, claws extended, of his jaguar guide. The slashes left on the three men's faces after the fight told Reno he'd begun to shape-shift. A fist caused bruises and swelling, not four deep parallel marks. Stunned and anxious, he had buried his secret knowledge of what he was, promising the beaten prisoners that the next time he hearMcKenna, Lindsay is the author of 'Unforgiven', published 2006 under ISBN 9780373617487 and ISBN 0373617488.