CHAPTER SIX
MARSHALL
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I step into the full meeting room and sit in one of the chairs. I’m late. It’s not uncommon. I’m a terrible timekeeper. Unless I’m fully armed.
I note my knife and Glock.
Doesn’t really count.
“Nice of you to join us,” Josh says from the front of the room without lifting his head.
“I know.” I grin.
Aidan shakes his head, irritated, while Thomas, our head IT guy, chuckles silently.
I’m three minutes late, but Josh is a stickler for time so we’re used to him making a fuss. He doesn’t really care. We’d all be fired by now if he did.
“Ryder. Update.” Josh taps on his tablet, still not looking up.
“Bob Simmons has given a month’s notice to terminate his private security contract. His stocks plummeted after being caught with a hooker last weekend.”
Fucking Hollywood.
We do way too much work for them and it drives me fucking insane. These people think they can do whatever they like. Social media is setting a bunch of new rules for them, however, and I’m not sad. Cancel culture is rancid, but sometimes it has a role to play.
Bob is the owner of a production company and it’s well-known he sleeps with many of the actresses on his films.
Voluntarily?
I doubt it. The Me Too movement has only scratched the surface. Bob is clearly manipulating the young actresses with his contacts and promises of the next big thing. The jury is out whether that’s his cock or not.
Maybe I’ve just seen the darker side of life for too long and find the movie industry utter bullshit.
Sure, entertainment is important, I get that. Humanity has always sought it out. From jesters in the royal courts to gladiators in the Colosseum and poets in villages throughout time. But when you’ve been the guy carrying the sword, protecting civilians from evil in the world so they can sip their beer and sing their melodies, you look at life differently.
Fuck.
I chug my bottle of electrolytes and focus back on the meeting. The threat of being pulled down a dark rabbit hole is always there.
Recently, it’s raised its head more often, knowing the bosses want me heading up the black ops team. I’ll be deploying as a private operative into the field again. The very fucking field I left because I knew it was getting to me.
I won’t know when. I won’t know where.
Although Josh gave me a heads up that a job is in the pipeline for this week.
Black Hawke Security has government contracts that must be fulfilled whenever they need us. Josh was initially responsible, then Aidan picked up the slack and now that he’s rekindled his relationship with Briar, he wants to hand it over.
I understand. He’s got his girl and it’s a high-risk job. One that everyone at BHS spent their lives doing before joining the team. We know very well there’s always a risk you won’t come home.
The jobs are top-secret operations undertaken by Delta Force, SEALs, Marines, and other special forces. It can mean a hit job, a hostage rescue, or a manhunt.
Shit that I did as an active Green Beret.
There were also peacekeeping operations and humanitarian assistance which kept me sane. Listen, I’m no Boy Scout, and while I’m fairly sure my testosterone levels are higher than the average American guy, sometimes you need to put the gun down and have a week off from killing people.
These operations change you.
The first kill is the worst. I didn’t sleep for three nights waiting for lightening to strike me down or something. I’m not religious, but like most of western society, I’ve been raised in a Christian-based world and taught that taking a life is wrong.
I was trained to kill.
When you’re faced with the enemy and need to choose between his life or your own, it’s an easy one to make.
It’s the aftermath that gets you.
Knowing I’ve stopped deadly attacks in America, evil terrorists, and child traffickers goes some way to feeling you did the right thing. But when you’re lying in the dark facing your own humanity and your maker—whoever that is—a weight descends on your soul.
Most people lose their shit if they run over a cat or bird. Try killing a human being.
Try walking over to that body and staring down at them as they lay in a pool of their blood with a bullet hole in their forehead. You tell yourself you did the right thing and that they’re no longer a threat.
That you did good.
That they chose to waste their life.
That I took.
Then the questions start. Is it all predestined? Is there life after death? Why is there such evil on the planet?
What the hell is all of this about?
War. Death. Torture.
While people in fucking Hollywood spend hours scrolling social media wondering who is sucking whose cock.
It was the moment I started becoming desensitized that I knew I had to get out. I remember kicking one body over so I didn’t have to see his face. Then, shot the back of his head for good measure.
That wasn’t the final moment though.
The exact moment I knew I had to get the fuck out of the forces was when a young boy pointed a rifle at me. My hand was down by my side gripping my weapon as I took in his small frame and deep brown eyes. He wasn’t the first underaged enemy I’d faced, but he was the first I didn’t hesitate to shoot.
Nor did I feel anything when I strode over to check he was dead.
As per protocol, I lifted his jacket to find bars of C4 strapped to him. Motherfuckers. It was a common strategy. They enemy used young soldiers in the hope we’d disarm him instead of shooting. Then as we got close, they’d detonate the explosives.
The kid was a suicide bomber.
My body froze until I saw the button in his hand.
Not remotely controlled.
But it fucking could’ve been.
“Shuffle your team to accommodate,” Josh tells Ryder, bringing my attention back into the room, and then he then glances over at me. “That frees Marshall for black ops as discussed.”
“Have done.” Ryder nods.
“Keep him as a reserve,” Aidan says. “I can’t see him being happy on desk work in between.”
Fuck no.
“Christ, he’ll create mayhem.” Josh mumbles with a quick shake of his head.
“I’m right here.” I spin my water bottle in my hand. “You need me to reduce my hours?”
I could semi-retire.
My bank account might not be as enormous as some of these guys, for different reasons, but I never have to work again. And live very happily.
“The business has doubled in the past six months.” Josh leans back in his chair. “Prefer you didn’t.”
I wasn’t surprised to hear that. When he married Cassy Cartright, daughter of Blaze Cartright, lead singer of Sonic Rebel, the famous rock band, we picked up a lot of Hollywood business. Including Bob the dick.
Maybe it was the thought of being back in my tactical gear and knocking off a world leader, or whoever is on the hitlist that day, then returning to work to do private security for some Instagram influencer that was pushing my button.
I plant my usual smile on my face. “Trina would miss me; I better stick around.”
Penny, who sits next to Josh, chuckles. She wouldn’t be laughing if she knew the thoughts running through my head since I left my wild little wolf’s house the other night.
Or how I’d jerked off into my hand so fucking hard I thought my cock was going to explode the next morning. I hadn’t even been able to wait until I got in the shower.
Tell me when you’re ready to be fucked like the wild wolf you are, and I’ll make sure it’s a night you never forget.
She won’t.
I may not know Trina well, but her stubbornness is clear as day. I wrote my mobile number on her whiteboard in the kitchen, and it’s been three days of deafening silence.
But like I say, I never expected her to call.
What is she going to say? “ Hey, sorry I passed out on you. Can we pick up where we left off and you tongue my pussy ?”
I snort out loud.
“Laughing at your own jokes now, Adams?” Aidan cocks a brow.
I swallow the rest of my water down and let out an audible sigh. “Yup, when the audience sucks, ya gotta yank it yourself, you know?”
I wink at Penny.
“Borderline, Marshall.” Josh shoots me a dark look.
Yeah, it probably was.
Ryder is shaking his head, focusing on his laptop, but I can see the smile he’s hiding.
“Jesus.” Aidan rubs his forehead. “Please tell me we have a job in the Middle East or Timbuck-fucking-tu coming up for this guy.”
I laugh and toss my bottle into the trash can over his head.
It’s a hole in one.
I get a glare in response.
To which I shrug at my awesomeness.
But I need to get serious and let them know how I’m feeling about work right now. So, I glance at Josh and say, “Just give me a boring CEO or something when I’m back stateside ‘kay?”
I have zero patience for a bratty influencer of actress right now. I don’t need to spell it out. I’ve made comments before, and I think Ryder knows it’s not the right gig for me. I can handle Savanah because she’s a friend and his wife. And being newer to her success she’s remained very humble.
Which makes her very likable.
“How much time do I have?” I add as a mix of excitement and reluctance washes through me, knowing I’ll be donning my fatigues once more.
I’m assuming I’ll be leaving the United States for this job. A safe assumption as ninety-five percent of the black ops jobs are.
“Thirty-six hours,” Josh replies after a few taps on his screen. “I’ll send the rest of the information through the secure BHS network to your inbox.”
I push my chair back.
“Roger that. Better go sharpen my pencils then.”
Aka get my weapons ready and pack.
Here we go again.
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I END UP doing a solid two-hour workout in the BHS gym first. Cole, an Army Ranger, hits me up to spar with him.
He’s lighter on his feet than me and a few years younger. When he darts down then to the left as I swing, Cole darts his leg out, taking me down.
“Fuck.”
“Getting old, grandpa?”
I leap up and drop him to the mat, my arm up against his throat. “Got a few years left in me yet, Ranger.”
Cole snorts, but his face is turning red so I let him breathe.
“You working in the black ops team now, I heard.”
“Wow, it’s like fucking gossip girl around here.” I head to the bench press and lie down.
Cole hands me the bar and I do a few reps. When he drops it back in the cradle he asks another question. “Speaking of...you banging the brunette?”
I sit up as I’m hit over the head with a rage of unexpected possession. I reach over and pick up my towel then wipe my forehead before replying. That kiss said a million things Trina will never admit.
I don’t date men in uniform.
How true that is, I don’t know.
Cole is a good-looking guy. He’s a Ranger and for all I know Trina is lying and just doesn’t date me .
Fuck, when did I get so insecure?
The fact is the moment I kissed that woman—hell even when I nipped at her glossy raspberry- coated lip—she became mine.
For now.
So yeah, I’m claiming her. There’s no way I’m standing back while she sleeps with any of the guys here. If she wants to play games with me that’s fine, but we play them alone.
Together.
I stand and meet him head-on. “Trina isn’t up for grabs.”
“Does she know that?” he challenges me.
I resist the urge to grab him by the shirt and shove him up against the wall and growl. Like a goddamn wild animal.
“Mitts off her, Cole, and make sure the rest of the crew stays away.”
Trina visits most Fridays, along with the other girls, and because I’ll be out of the country I want the team to know I’ve staked a claim.
If Trina found out about it, I’d lose my fucking head. But hey, I might, before I get back on US soil, so it’s a risk I’m willing to take.
She might be too stubborn to call me, but I saw the lust in her eyes. I felt the hungry heat in her kiss. The way her pussy lifted to press against my cock.
I’m going to claim my little wolf when I return home whether she’s ready or not.
Obviously, I’m a liar.
I’m not waiting for her.
It’s time to hunt.