Bowie’s Battle (Team KOA Bravo #2)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Two whole fucking weeks had passed, and Bowie Colson and the rest of his Navy SEAL team were still stuck on Big Island, Hawaii, testing radio equipment.

Okay. Stuck wasn’t the right word because who the hell didn’t enjoy beautiful beaches, rolling mountains, and an angel named Moana with the sweetest voice anyone had ever heard who was about to take the stage at Ohana’s bar.

That part was great. The best.

Only, running around the Brotherhood Protectors ranch, playing war games with equipment that had never been the problem in the first place, made Bowie want to poke his eyes out. Four good men were dead, and he was sitting on his ass doing jack shit. His entire career—and possibly his life—hung in the balance.

However, according to the Navy, that was a problem for his CO, Castle. Bowie and his team were sent to Big Island under the pretense they needed to work out the kinks in some new fancy-schmancy state-of-the-art comms system since their last mission had gone sideways.

And that was putting it mildly.

Bowie jerked his head and smiled. He was supposed to be getting drinks, but once he spotted Moana standing by the stage, he had to say hello. It was like the second she graced his vision, she was the only thing he could see, and his brain filled with inappropriate thoughts. Ones that his buddies would endlessly harass him for and his mother would lecture him over for hours.

Moana waved as he inched closer. “Hey there, good-looking. Is there ever a night you’re not here?”

“If you’re singing, I’m certainly not going to pass up hanging out in this joint.”

“You’re too kind, especially when Waylen and his team own this place and I have it on good authority you get free appetizers and occasionally a round of drinks on the house.” She squeezed his biceps.

Damn, her touch was like the local volcano spewing hot lava. “That’s certainly one reason we come here, but that’s not enough.” He leaned in and dared to press his lips on her warm cheek. “It’s your voice that keeps me coming back.”

“You really are a sweet-talker, Bowie.” She batted her thick lashes over her decadent chocolate eyes.

“If that were true, I’d get you to agree to go out with me outside of having a drink or two here.”

She laughed. “I need to go get ready. Only a few songs tonight.” She ran her hand up and down his arm. “If you’re around when I’m done, I’ll let you buy me a drink. But that’s as far as this goes.”

“One of these days, I’m going to get you to break down.”

“Maybe.” She winked. “I hope you enjoy the set.”

“You know I will.” He sighed. There wasn’t anything he didn’t like about Moana. He turned and headed toward the bar. A man wearing a nondescript baseball cap, with his head down and his fingers tapping away on his cell, ran right into him.

“Shit. Sorry,” the man continued to beat on his screen as he hurried past Bowie.

“Asshole,” Bowie muttered. He hated people like that. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched as the fool made a beeline for the parking lot.

Good riddance.

“Hey, Bowie.” Dahlia, the bartender, smiled. “Flirting with Moana again, I see.”

“Just being friendly.”

“Turn you down again?” Dahlia asked. “Want me to put in a good word?”

“Do you think that will help?”

“Nope. But it can’t hurt.” Dahlia shrugged.

“I don’t want to come off as desperate.” Bowie chuckled. Because that’s kind of what he was coming across as and perhaps it was time to back off.

“What can I get you?” Dahlia asked.

He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “A couple of pitchers for the guys, which I’ll take to the table. I’d also like to order one sampler platter of appetizers.”

“Only one?” Dahlia laughed. “You and your team always order at least two and still manage to scarf down full meals.”

Bowie cocked a brow. “Mia still here?”

Dahlia nodded.

“Then guys night is about to turn into date night for my buddy Carter.” Bowie didn’t begrudge his friend a good time, especially not with Mia. That woman had been through the wringer and Carter had been right there by her side. Mia was kind. Sweet. And the type of woman who had the ability to put Carter in his place.

Not an easy task.

“To be fair, I think she’s been working slowly, waiting for you all to show up.” Dahlia filled the first pitcher, setting it on a tray, before moving on to the second.

Bowie laughed. “Training went a little longer than usual today, which made Carter ornery. He’s been looking forward to coming here all day and I don’t think it was to hang out with me and the rest of the team.” He had to admit that he loved Hawaii. He wouldn’t say no to being stationed in this little piece of heaven. Nor would he say no to working for the Brotherhood Protectors, if and when it came time for him and his buddies to retire.

The option was there. Those unsigned re-enlistment papers haunted him every single night.

However, no decisions could be made until the strong arm of justice came down hard on those men who had killed his friends.

And wanted him and the rest of his team dead.

A fact they couldn’t prove but felt deep in their bones.

“Hey, man.” Waylen Brown strolled around from the other side of the bar and dared to flick Bowie’s cowboy hat. “This is fucking annoying.”

“No more so than you constantly trying to knock it off my head.” Bowie readjusted his Stetson. Since high school, he’d been wearing a cowboy hat. It had been his thing and he’d become accustomed to being picked on for it. He didn’t give a shit what anyone thought of it. “You should have seen the guy earlier with the baseball cap, turned backward, head down and texting. Damn near knocked me over.”

“And you saw him coming with this thing on your head?” Waylen laughed. “How are things going?”

“Same shit, different day.”

“If you need anything, let me or any of our staff know.” Waylen squared his shoulders. “Time to go stretch my vocals way out of my range.”’ He sighed. “That chick up there has some serious chops. Why she never went for a career onstage is beyond me, but the fact that major country stars have picked up some of her songs is flipping incredible.”

“To say the least.” Bowie lifted the tray off the counter. “Thanks for this,” he said to Dahlia. He made his way back to the table where Quinn, Carter, and Flint were all situated.

These men were as much his family as his parents, two sisters, and one brother, whom he loved as though they were the air he breathed. He was a lucky man to have a supportive, close-knit family. One that was always there when he needed them, and sometimes when he didn’t.

Bowie was born and raised in the military. His dad was a Navy man and a covert intelligence instructor at the Coronado base in California. It had been expected that Bowie and his brother would attend the Naval Academy.

Neither one questioned it.

His little brother was only two grades behind him, and both of them had aspirations to be SEALs.

Both followed their dreams.

Anderson was currently with SEAL Team Two, which was based in Virginia. The last time Bowie spoke to Anderson, four days ago, he was being shipped out to an undisclosed location for the next eight weeks.

Bowie’s older sister, Lola, was married to a SEAL. Lucky for her, he was stationed in Coronado and she had the support of their family. She’d never wanted to be in the military, and while their parents had pushed her to enlist, she wouldn’t hear of it. She did, however, take to being married to a Navy man like a fish to water. It suited her and being a psychologist with an expertise in PTSD, well, she could work anywhere her husband was stationed.

Maggie, Bowie’s little sister, was currently dating a SEAL, also stationed in Coronado. Maggie was a fourth-grade teacher. She’d sworn she’d never marry a military man.

Never say never.

All of this made their father insanely proud.

The only thing missing was for his two boys to get off their asses, find spouses, and carry on the family name.

Anderson was never going to do that. He’d gotten his heart broken ten years ago, and ever since, he’d been on a mission to make sure it never happened again. Bowie wished his brother wasn’t so hardened on the concept of love. One bad experience, and Anderson was done with relationships. He was married to the Navy and his life was all about being a SEAL.

While Bowie loved his career, he’d always wanted a family but had never found the right woman to share his life with. Not for lack of trying. Unfortunately for him, he had shit luck with the ladies. He could understand why some couldn’t handle the long deployments. Military life wasn’t for everyone. However, the few women he’d dated over the years, who were all in when it came to his chosen career, hadn’t worked out, for a variety of reasons.

One being the men who sat at the table.

He set the tray down and took his seat at the far side. He poured himself a refill and sipped, staring at the sexy woman onstage.

God, she was beautiful.

He’d never seen anyone so gorgeous before. And it wasn’t just her looks. Over the last two weeks, he’d had a half dozen conversations with Moana. She was intelligent, wise, witty, and so very kind.

“Hello, everyone. Welcome to Ohana’s,” Waylen said into the microphone. “Before Moana starts her short, but incredible set tonight, she and I thought we’d do a little duet together.” Waylen sat in front of the piano and nodded to Moana.

Bowie couldn’t take his eyes off the sexy, dark-skinned woman with deep, soulful eyes. She had long jet-black hair that kissed her hips. She wore a floral sundress that danced over her ankles. The woman was the definition of perfection.

He adjusted his Stetson, giving him a better view as Waylen and Moana belted out the words to an old classic titled “Mockingbird . ” As a small child, Bowie’s mother would sing that song to him, and he loved it. He knew every word, every syllable, and he found himself humming along as his cowboy boot tapped against the wood floor, ignoring everything else around him.

“Yo, are you going to answer the question?” Flint tossed a napkin at Bowie.

“Huh?” Bowie blinked. “Sorry. Didn’t hear you. I was enjoying the music.”

“Seriously? I thought it was the sexy Hawaiian girl shaking her hips onstage,” Quinn said with a grin.

“Fuck off,” Bowie muttered. “Flint, what was the question?”

All three men burst out laughing.

At least the song was over, so it couldn’t be considered rude. Only, Bowie had no idea what was so funny, but he got the distinct feeling he was the butt of the joke. He took a healthy swig of his beer.

“Sweet Jesus, you’re an easy target,” Carter said.

“I’m so glad I could amuse you.” Bowie lifted his Stetson, raked his fingers through his hair, and pushed his hat back on his head. He knew his buddies were just busting his balls. It was all in good fun and on most days, he could take as good as he gave.

But today, it stung a little more than normal.

Perhaps it was because out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Mia strolled across the bar with a smile on her face.

Carter stood. “Sorry, guys. I’m going to go spend some time with a pretty lady.”

“What she sees in you, we all can’t fucking figure out.” Quinn laughed.

“Don’t stay out too late, and make sure you use protection.” Bowie lifted his hat off his head and lowered his chin.

“You all can go fuck yourselves.” Carter met Mia halfway across the room, looped his arm around her waist, and disappeared through the maze of people.

Waylen jumped off the stage, but Moana started another song. One with a more country flavor. One that she’d written herself. She was so damn talented. The sound of her voice flowed over his ears like butter melting in all the nooks and crannies in an English muffin.

She had a shyness to her that showed her vulnerability to her talent. As if she didn’t know she had a set of pipes. There was an innocence about her that came through her singing, but when he looked deep into her eyes, he could see a woman who’d had her heart broken.

He’d seen that etched in a person’s soul before.

His brother to be precise.

Waylen stood at the side of the table, staring up at the stage while Moana finished another song.

“Damn, that chick is good,” Waylen said. “I need to head home. My wife has been texting me to bring home dinner and chocolate cake.” He shook his head. “Presley complains she’s gaining weight and none of her clothes fit her anymore. Yet she eats every meal like it’s the last supper.”

“My sister’s pregnant. Eight months to be exact,” Bowie said. “My brother-in-law tells me she begs him to go out and get her some ice cream every night. So being the good man that he is and it not being their first rodeo, he does as requested. The next morning, when she gets on the scale, she bitches that he’s trying to make her fat.”

Waylen laughed. “Presley’s not even four months. I’m so not looking forward to weird cravings.” He waved his hand. “You boys have a good night. I’ll see you all at the ranch in the morning.”

“Later, man,” Quinn said.

“That’s one wickedly smart dude.” Flint raised his beer. “I was in his office the other day. Impressive with the computer screens, running all this coding shit. When I asked him what it was, he opened his mouth and I was lost after three words.”

Bowie chuckled. In the Naval Academy, he’d been required to take all sorts of aptitude tests. One of them pegged him as having an untapped computer skill set. He took the courses and as it turned out, he did have an uncanny ability to master coding. He ended up getting a degree in computer science, but he never actually did much with the degree. Sure, it was utilized in the field, and his team relied on him for the more technical aspects of their missions, but the Naval Academy was always a means to an end. A step to becoming a SEAL.

That was all that had mattered.

“It’s just like learning a foreign language.” Another one of Bowie’s many talents. He spoke five languages. His mother was fluent in German, so he’d grown up speaking the language. He’d minored in Arabic, so that was his third language. But because he’d been an overachiever his entire life, he’d also mastered Spanish and Russian. To drive the point home, he raised his glass. “Fi Sihtuk,” he said, which meant cheers in Arabic.

“You’re a fucking show-off.” Quinn leaned across the table and clanked his glass against Bowie’s. “Maybe you should speak to that girl up there on that stage in one of those languages. She might think it’s sexy and finally agree to go out with you.”

“He’s already tried that.” Flint squeezed his shoulder and gave him a good shake. “Crashed and burned before he could even explain what language or even what he said. Although, I do think she was impressed because she actually touched him, smiled, and said something to the effect of wow, that’s an interesting skill set to have. It must come in handy when you’re deployed .”

“How about if all you yahoos be quiet so we can enjoy this last song before she’s done,” Bowie said.

The waitress set down a tray of appetizers and three plates.

His buddies dug in while he continued to stare at the object of his affection. He could be on this island for another two weeks.

Or longer.

He had no idea.

It all depended on if Castle could compile enough intel to bring charges against Edward Fuller III and Justin, Darren, Phillip, and Carlos.

All of them deserved to rot in a military prison for what they’d done.

But if at the end of the next fourteen days, no charges were brought, the team would have to start using their leave. Something they weren’t so sure they wanted to do. However, Castle would push the issue. Going back meant being reunited with the rest of the team.

Which meant their lives were in danger and not by the enemy.

The worst part—outside of working with traitors—was that the clock was ticking on those damn re-enlistment papers. He was thirty-eight years old. He’d served his country for twenty good years. He had his time in. He could retire. Better men than him had when they’d hit this mark.

But was he ready?

If someone had asked him that question two weeks ago, he would have said hell no. But today? It was a definite maybe, but only because of Hawk Hawkins and his operation.

Bowie had no idea what to expect when his CO forced him and his buddies to board that transport plane headed toward Hawaii and the Brotherhood Protectors organization. He’d heard of the group, though he had no idea his old buddy Waylen worked for them, so that had been a nice surprise when he’d shown up on this island.

Bowie had also known a couple of retired Navy men who’d joined. But they worked out in Montana with the founder of the organization, Hank Patterson. One man he knew ended up working at the branch in West Yellowstone under a guy named Stone. But since Bowie wasn’t the kind of man who wrote letters, emails, or even texted all that much with anyone outside of his family, he didn’t know too much about the group.

Now that he’d spent two weeks hanging out at the ranch, he’d come to more than respect the Brotherhood Protectors and what they stood for. Working for them in any capacity would be an honor.

“Thank you so much for letting me share some of my new songs,” Moana said. “I’ll be back next weekend for a full set. Y’all have a great night.” She stepped from the stage and made her way toward the bar, waving to her friend, Emery, who happened to be Ohana’s bouncer.

And a local police officer. Or maybe it was detective. Bowie wasn’t sure. But she was badass, he could tell that by looking at her.

It also hadn’t gone over his head that Flint had been eyeing her, though he played it cool so much better than Bowie ever could, because Flint had game. At least more game than Bowie ever had which always cracked everyone up simply because Bowie had the name.

Flint leaned over and waggled his brow. “She’s done singing. Are you going to try again? Or have you given up?”

Bowie wasn’t the kind of man who gave up on anything. But he’d had a rough day at the office, so to speak. He’d spent half the day fiddling with radio equipment in the field and the other half adjusting the software system.

There was nothing wrong with the fucking communications equipment. Not what had been used during the mission, and there were no issues with what was being tested.

Nothing.

He kept creating them with the help of Waylen. Even his teammates didn’t know what he was doing half the time. He had orders to make it interesting so no one got bored, so he and Waylen did just that. But as smart as he was, and Waylen was even smarter, they were running out of ways to manipulate and make the unit fail.

Two weeks left of this bullshit and then what?

Fucking vacation?

Regardless, everything about this assignment had started to rub Bowie the wrong way.

“I haven’t given up, but I think I’m going to have another beer, eat a little food, then go home.” Bowie raised his glass. “I’ve got a meeting with Waylen in the morning. He wants to pick my brain about something he’s working on.”

“You knew Waylen at the Naval Academy, right?” Quinn asked.

“Not really.” Bowie reached across the table and filled his plate with a few more items from the appetizer tray. “He was a junior when I was a freshman. Our paths crossed, but upperclassmen don’t really hang with the plebs, and if they do, it’s just to give them shit.”

“Waylen’s like the best dude ever. I can’t imagine him giving anyone shit,” Flint said.

“I saw him a few times in the computer lab. He treated everyone the same. He got razzed for that.” Bowie laughed. “I’ve always enjoyed it when we got the chance to work with him and his team. Good men.”

“Cheers to that.” Flint raised his glass. “And to the fallen.”

Quinn clanked his beer. Bowie followed.

The three men stared at each other for a long, intense moment. Death was always a part of war. A reality they had accepted the moment all of them had enlisted to serve their country.

But that fact didn’t make any of them feel any better about the good men and women who died all in the name of freedom.