CHAPTER EIGHT
MARSHALL
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I jump out of the UH-60 Black Hawk helicopter and take in the US military base located in Kuwait. My boots hit the ground, and I hoist my duffel up onto my shoulder more securely then run with my head down toward the two men waiting to greet me.
I slow and take in their rank.
One of them salutes me, the other doesn’t. I figure he’s the base commander.
“Welcome to Kuwait, Sergeant Adams.”
It doesn’t matter that I’m a veteran, my rank— Master Sergeant at the time of leaving the Army—is still recognized and will be used for communications during this mission.
“Colonel Rockingham.” I salute, then nod at the private.
We begin to walk.
“I’ve been briefed on some details. Asked to give you our full support to fulfill your mission. Which you have.” The colonel says as we step inside his office. A tent.
“Thank you, sir.”
The heat hits me despite being in the Middle East for over four hours now. I’m drenched. It always takes time to acclimate and hopefully I won’t be here long enough for that to happen.
Once you’ve done a few tours you don’t want to spend much time in this part of the world.
I drop my duffle bag.
The colonel rounds his desk and nods to the private who disappears, but I suspect hasn’t gone far. Then he presses his fingers into the desk, leaning as he looks me right in the eye.
“Is there anything you want to tell me before we go any further?”
“No, sir.” I shake my head. He will have been told all he needs to know and I’m not in any position to share more.
Hell, even I only know the instructions I’ve been given. He knows that.
“Okay. You’ll go out with the Delta Force team, with backup from our Rangers. Briefing is at fourteen hundred where I’ll brief them on what they need to know.”
Nothing more.
I’m not surprised to hear Delta Force is here. Whether they are supporting my mission entirely or have their own focus while we cross the desert isn’t clear. My security clearance has been reinstated for this mission, but I won’t be told everything.
My job is to get in, take the hit, and get home for a beer.
And claim my sexy little wolf.
That’s my plan.
“What else do you need?” The colonel asks.
“A shower. Bed. Food.” I run a hand over my now soaked hair as he nods with a smile. “I’ve been flying for hours so some horizontal time before we head out would be appreciated.”
We both know I could be here for a couple of days and it’s wise to take every minute of rest you can before heading out on a mission.
I know my fitness is good, but I’m a little out of practice when it comes to surviving in the desert.
Then again, maybe it’s like riding a bike.
“Smart. You might not be home until after the weekend.” He drops down into his chair. “Some of the routes have been destroyed. Delta will get you in and out safe.”
Damn. I knew that was a possibility after all the fighting over the years, but was hoping there had been some repairs or new paths created.
As if it’s downtown Miami or LA.
This is Kuwait.
“Getting home is the goal.” I grin as I reach for my duffel.
He doesn’t return it. There’s a seriousness to him that speaks to the weight on his shoulders every day, keeping his men alive.
“Private Mahoney will take you to the barracks. The chow hall is next door. You might make lunch if you hurry. We’ll see you in a few hours.”
With a quick “thank you sir,” I push through the tin door and as predicted, find Mahoney waiting.
“Lead the way, Private.”
I’m interested to see if I know any of the Delta Force guys. I wasn’t the only Tier Two Operator invited to join the Tier One team last year; some of my buddies might be here. Of course, none of them would be able to tell me if they were in the team that doesn’t technically exist.
It's a bit confusing given they show up for ops.
Not for us. We know. But it’s not like anyone is adding it as a life event on their fucking Facebook page.
“Through here, sir.” Mahoney says, as we head into one of the barracks.
It looks like all the others in the desert. Drab. I’m not in Hollywood now.
The moment I stepped onto the military plane to leave the United States my personality did a shift. Back to the one I was trained to be.
Nicknamed the quiet professionals, Special Forces —or Green Berets—are less showy than some of the others. We’re as highly trained as SEALs and Marines but with a few additional skills.
One of them being foreign languages.
If I’d had time, I would’ve grown out my beard and roughened up a little. It won’t be necessary. In black tactical gear I’ll accompany these men and women, then single off with one or two of the Delta team, and when I identify the target, I’ll take the shot.
Poof.
Job done.
Then home to Trina. I wonder if she’s thinking about me. Our kiss. The way my body seemed to fit against hers like a jigsaw puzzle, her legs widening to let my hard cock tease her hot pussy.
Probably not.
Of course she is.
I would put money on her fingers rubbing her hard sensitive nub, thinking about my tongue claiming her sweet raspberry-tasting mouth.
I bet she’s a screamer.
One week and I’ll find out.
Right now, I have to stay focused. And keep my mind off her tight ass and perfect sized tits. Jesus those nipples. I could see the points through her T-shirt. One suck on them and we both would have been history.
Leaving was the right thing to do but the constant erection I’ve sported for days wasn’t great. It’s gone now as I look around the brown bunk beds.
All of this to eliminate one man. The target is a well-known Kuwaiti arms dealer connected to Iran and identified as buying high levels of uranium.
And yeah, I don’t think he’s making ceramic glazes.
Nuclear weapons.
That’s why I’m here. It’s essential the world keeps Iran nuclear free. If they got their hands on them we can all pretty much kiss this planet, and our existence, goodbye.
How the fuck do they not connect the dots?
And doesn’t a bunch of countries pointing the same destructive weapons at one another zero out the influence?
I’m not willing to test that theory.
I am willing to point my own weapon at this asshole’s head and pull the trigger. Saving the world, while shaving another inch off my dark soul.
Just another day in the office.
“Adams!” One of the guys call out, looking just as surprised as I am to see him.
Fucking great. Of all the assholes in the world, look who’s here. In Kuwait. At the same time as me.
Un-fucking-believable.
Roger Miller stands and walks over to shake my hand. “Sergeant.”
“Sergeant Miller.”
I want it noted for the record that Roger is a Staff Sergeant. Two ranks below me.
And not my buddy.
“Guys, meet Marshall. He’s a deserter. Took off to work with Black Hawke in California.”
Fucking dick.
There are some who believe you should enlist for life. Should you leave, you’re then deemed a deserter. There is no point in arguing with Roger. He can believe what he likes, but it was a dick move to introduce me that way.
I can see from the looks on the faces of the other men here, they’re just as unimpressed by the comment.
I never liked Miller.
I don’t think he liked me.
We rose up the ranks at the same time for a while. He became a Ranger while I ended up in the Special Forces.
Don’t get me wrong, he has skills, but his attitude always held him back. The problem is, he doesn’t know it.
The more I progressed, the more competitive he got. It was uncomfortable and created small problems. Nothing notable I could ever report.
But I sensed it and did my best to navigate it.
When I was invited to join Delta and declined, I overheard him tell someone he’d also been asked to join the teams.
Which is a lie.
If he had, he wouldn’t have said a thing.
I never have.
Not even to Ryder and let me tell you what a missed opportunity that is to wind the guy up.
“Take any of the spare beds,” Private Mahoney says and gives me a knowing look before disappearing.
Yep. Miller is unliked here too.
I drop my duffel onto one of them and then face the men. They’re all experienced men, I can tell.
None of them familiar.
“Hey man.” One of them shakes my hand and introduces himself. “Johnson.”
He too gives me a look that says we all know Roger is a fuckwit and a few of the other ten or so men standing and sitting around either wave out or offer their hand.
“You just fly in?” Johnson asks, taking in my black fatigues. I no longer qualify to wear the US uniform as I’m not enlisted.
I sit down on the end of the bed and untie my laces. “Yup. Private job. The colonel will go over it at the briefing.”
That’s all they’ll get out of me, and they’ll respect—
“Fancy private mission huh? Who are you doing work for? POTUS?” Miller asks.
I don’t look at him or respond, simply place my boots beside me, laces tucked inside. Then add my socks.
Old habits die hard.
When I do look up, I glance around the uncomfortable faces, stand, rip off my black T-shirt, and rub it over my damp face and hair.
“Where are the showers?”
“Cocky as always, I see.” Miller laughs and heads over to his bed. Then leaps back on it, the creak only just holding his weight.
Jesus he’s a cocksucker.
“I’ll show you.” Johnson smirks and tilts his head toward the door.
Grabbing what I need, I follow him over to the portable shower units and it suddenly hits me where I am. Back in enemy territory.
This was not the plan.
I messaged Josh to say I’d arrived and would check in when the job was done. Then he can bill the client. He’ll want proof. That’s the most dangerous part. Sticking around to get photo evidence when you need to hightail it out of there.
If something happens and I don’t get back to California to fuck that gorgeous she-wolf, I’m going to be so damn mad.
I’m not floating up in heaven watching Cole shag her. I’ll have to haunt him for eternity. That’s not how I want to spend my afterlife. But what choice will I have?
Trina would hate knowing I was here. If she is genuinely against dating someone in the military, then I don’t know how she’d react when she finds out I’m now doing black ops work.
I thought you just wanted to sleep with her the one time?
I purse my lips at the rogue thought.
Of course that’s all I want.
Great, now I’m arguing with myself.
Fucking Miller, he always rubs me the wrong way.
I shake off thoughts of Trina—and Miller—once more and take in the showers.
“Lunch gets cleared away in about thirty minutes so you might want to grab something to eat straight after.”
“Thanks man, I appreciate it.” Before he disappears I call out, “Johnson.”
He turns.
“Is Delta team here on base already?”
He shakes his head. “Na. They’ll arrive tonight.”
I nod, then head into the showers desperate to get under the water and cool down. Even if it’s only for a few minutes.
Being back in the desert is bringing back all my old emotions. Reminding me of all the hours I’ve spent worried my parents would get a visit telling them that their son was dead. Watching soldier after soldier lose their life. Us losing friends.
Wives losing their husbands.
Kids losing their dads.
For what?
War, up close, makes no goddamn sense.
So, I left. I planned to get my shit together. Get a job—did that—and settle down.
Haven’t done that.
I told myself I wasn’t dating or getting married beforehand because I didn’t want my name to be on their lips when they got news that my body was being flown home in a box.
Instead, I’ve been sleeping with a reasonable number of women—not as many as people think— and sitting on the fence. I’m not miserable.
I’m just not moving forward.
Is that why Josh chose me to lead? Because I have given the impression I’m a playboy who isn’t going to settle down?
Hard to blame them if he did.
Every minute I spend on this damn sand, the more I don’t think I can do this.
Serving my country was an honor. One I left because after twelve years and innumerable missions, I’d felt I’d done my time. Without losing my life.
Now, I might be playing with destiny.
My mom cried when I surprised her and came home with the news. I didn’t want to tell her any earlier because if I’d changed my mind it would’ve upset her.
“Proud of you son,” my dad said, pulling me in for a tight hug.
My younger brother is a mechanic in New York state, and I know they never said it out loud but they’re glad he didn’t enlist. Liam once asked me if he should. Said that he sometimes felt he wasn’t doing his part.
“Hey,” I said, shoving him in the shoulder. “If my car breaks down I need someone to fix it. Both of us can’t be the hero.”
“You’re an asshole.” He laughed.
We’re close. He knew it was my way of saying I didn’t want his ass in the military. Just the thought of it had me channeling my mom’s worry.
“I’ll buy you a cape for Christmas.” I’d taunted him further.
Liam was almost as big as me by the time he was twenty-five. Now he’s put on a bit of weight around the middle like most guys his age.
It’s something I don’t have to worry about yet. Staying fit and strong is essential in my line of work, but I guess one day I’ll have a slower pace of life.
With a wife.
Trina’s pretty face with her long dark locks returns front and center.
Shit.
Do I like this girl that fucking much? I’d never take advantage of a drunk woman but the fact I walked away—I want to say easily but it wasn’t— after such a scorching hot kiss speaks volumes.
I don’t date men in uniform.
Fuck that. I am going to find out what’s underneath that attitude and change it. She clearly has some belief from some experience and decided all military guys are jerks.
Some are.
I wouldn’t consider myself one of them. My mom wouldn’t either. That’s pretty much all the evidence I have.
When I get home, it’s time to tame my wild pup.
A shiver rushes through me and I glance over my shoulder. What the hell was that? I always pay attention to my instincts, especially when I’m outside of the US and about to head into enemy territory.
That felt like a warning.
I shake it off and turn on the shower, undressing completely, then stepping under the cool, refreshing water.
I don’t like the fact that Miller is here. He’s reckless and a liability. Hopefully, I don’t see him again before I leave.
Something tells me I will.