Chapter Five
Truett
Eighteen years earlier…
P eering down the scope of my rifle, I used my shoulder to wipe the sweat from my neck. Nothing in my training had prepared me for the suffocating heat of an Iraqi summer. The windows of the dingy apartment had been covered with screens to obscure our presence. An occasional breeze would blow through, offering me a reprieve from the oppressive heat. Those moments were few and far between, so the majority of the time, it felt like someone had replaced my blood with lava.
Ya know, real comfortable shit.
My rickety chair echoed through the room as I shifted my weight, trying to ease the pain in my back. I’d been perched on the edge for so long my ass had fallen asleep.
“Jesus, Cherry. Keep it down. It sounds like you’re having a seizure over there,” Nutz whispered from the secondary window a few feet away.
With five years enlisted, a Ranger tab, and the newest member of one of the most elite reconnaissance teams the Army had to offer, I was far from a cherry. Though, being that it was my first deployment, the nickname came with the territory.Before Cherry, I had been strapped with the wild creativity of “Dubs” since my last name started with a W. Now, I’d be Cherry until the day I retired.
“Shit, my bad. I didn’t realize anyone could hear me with you over there breathing like an asthmatic wild boar,” I deadpanned while continuing to scan the street below.
Focused. Always focused.
The Army didn’t pay me to fuck off, though being in an abandoned apartment with trained professionals who knew to keep their voices barely audible helped when it came to a little banter.
Steve-O joined the conversation from the door at our six, where he was keeping watch on the interior stairwell. “Both of you smell like a fucking wild boar who’s been dead for a week.”
He was not wrong. It had been days since any of us had taken a real shower. With five men in full kit sweating our balls off, it smelled exactly as rancid as one would expect. Possibly worse.
For three days, our team had taken up residence inside that apartment. We had been sent to conduct a low-vis operation on the building across the street. It was a known meeting place for several high-value targets, and we had been tasked with collecting intel on anyone who so much as glanced at the door as they passed.
So far, the operation had been a bust. There hadn’t been a single soul entering or exiting the property. The neighborhood felt like a ghost town with the exception of the occasional elderly local who had been too stubborn to leave their war-torn home.
Long story short, it was as hot as the sun’s asshole, fragrant as a rotting corpse, and boring as fuck.
Otherwise, it wasn’t too bad.
Don’t get me wrong. We’d all have rather been at home with a cold beer and a hot woman, but I could think of worse company than the guys on my team.
As the room returned to a watchful silence, I reflected on the odd family we’d become—not bound by blood but by shared experiences and the unspoken promise to watch each other’s backs no matter what.We leaned on each other during the good times, the really-fucking-good times, and the occasional bad time, which would inevitably turn into the aforementioned really-fucking-good times after we’d attempt to solve our problems by going downtown and drowning them in alcohol. It was something of a tradition for us.And something we were all looking forward to when we got back home. Deployment was dry—the best thing to ever happen to our pickled livers.
Nutz was my brother in every way other than DNA. We’d grown up together. He was older by a few years, but when he joined the Army, it wasn’t long before I followed in his footsteps. His real name was Nathanial, but he’d more than earned his nickname. He liked to play it up that he’d been dubbed Nutz because he was this crazy wild card who should never becrossed. Truth be told, his ball sack had fallen out of his PT shorts one day during sit-ups.
If we were keeping the whole family dynamic going, Steve-O would have been the weird overachieving cousin who made everyone else look bad at the family reunions. If the Army had a school for it, chances were Steve-O had already completed it. The man was a stud . More so in the gym and the classroom than with the ladies. I shit you not, Wyatt looked exactly like Steve-O from the MTV show Jackass . Less charming if that was humanly possible.
He didn’t have nearly as many tattoos as the TV star, but the ones he did have were equally as embarrassing. Like, say, the words “fuck me” he had inked in giant black letters on his lower stomach like his cock was wearing a crown. Yes. I’d seen it. Like it or not, communal showers were a way of life in the military.
The fun in our dysfunctional family came from Thomas Lindy. He would have been the estranged second cousin who only showed up to weddings and funerals but still managed to be everyone’s favorite. Married with three kids, he hadn’t been around for many of our nights of debauchery, but when he was there, it was guaranteed to be legendary. He’d been dubbed Skytrash after one bad jump on a free-fall operation. Honestly, it didn’t take much for shit to stick in the military.
Rounding out our family tree was Sergeant Rhodes. He was that weird uncle who you loved but also kind of scared the shit out of you. His smooth Southern accent wasn’t fooling anyone—that was no gentleman. He was a beast in every facet. None of us dared to call him any-fucking-thing other than, “Roger, S’arnt.”
So yeah, we were all miserable, thousands of miles away from home, and missing family and friends, but good company made for a good time.
“Uh oh, Nutz,” I said quietly, my eye never leaving the scope of my weapon. “I think you might have a stalker.”
“Huh?” he replied.
“I can’t be sure, but she definitely looks like one of the girls you used to sneak into the barracks.”
“You gotta be more specific. Kilo’s first-floor window saw more traffic than a parade route. I used to tell the ladies it was the VIP entrance.”
I chuckled. “Look for yourself. Three o’clock, short little blonde.”
His kit rustled as he shifted his weight, turning his binoculars down the street. “What the hell are you talking about? That’s just the old dude out walking his—oh, you son of a bitch.”
A grin split my lips as I feigned innocence. “What? It’s a cute dog.”
“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what you meant, fuck face.”
Steve-O chuckled. “He does have a point. You really need to up your standards. You’re embarrassing us all.”
Nutz scoffed. “I don’t know who you’re calling embarrassing. Have you looked in the mirror recently? Your lips are big enough to suck your own cock without having to bend over.”
“You sound jealous,” Steve-O retorted.
“Yeah, I’m jealous of people that have a real wingman. How am I supposed to up my standards when your ugly ass is always standing behind me at the club like a damn scarecrow in a field of hotties.”
I bit my cheek, desperately trying to suppress my laughter. God, I loved riling them up. Who needed televisionwhen you had this kind of entertainment?
I couldn’t see him, but I felt his presence as he entered the room.
“What the hell’s all the noise about?” Sergeant Rhodes rumbled.
“Steve-O runnin’ his mouth, S’arnt,” Nutz replied.
“Don’t blame that shit on me. Cherry was the one who called your girl a Golden Retriever.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. I did no such thing.” I smirked. “Golden Retriever would have been a compliment. That right there’s a grade-A mutt.”
Steve-O laughed while Nutz let out a mumbled string of curses.
“All right, shut it, and keep it low. Anything new?” Rhodes asked.
“No, S’arnt,” I replied. “We have the same elderly civilian male out for his daily stroll with his dog, but besides that, nothing to report.”
He hummed approvingly. “Good. If it stays that way, the GFC will be good to EXFIL tonight. This is a waste of our time.”
My shoulders sagged in relief. Thank. Christ. Getting back to the FOB wasn’t the same as going home, but it was a hell of a lot better than this shit.
“Cherry, take a break and get some chow,” Rhodes ordered. “Steve-O, take over for him. Skytrash just woke up. He can man the stairwell.”
“Roger, S’arnt,” we whispered in unison.
My muscles ached as I sat up straight, stretching from side to side. I wasn’t sure if I was actually hungry or if I’d become Pavlov’s dog and the act of stretching had signaled that it was time to eat. Either way, I was suddenly starving. Like a well-oiled machine, as soon as I stood up, Steve-O slid into my seat, adjusted the rifle, and then put his eye to the scope.
With sleep still thick in his voice, Skytrash appeared in the doorway and asked, “So what’s your fine dining today, Cherry? Pizza? Lobster? Kung Pow Chicken?”
That all sounded amazing, but it was going to be some brittle crackers with cheese spread, M&Ms, and whatever the hell travesty of a protein the MRE gods had handed me as we’d packed to leave. Luckily for me, I’d always been a mind-over-matter guy. The brain was a hell of a weapon. With enough concentration, I could pretend my mystery meat was tikka masala and boom, I had gourmet cooking in the middle of a world conflict.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” S’arnt rumbled. “Can we not do this? I had tuna in my MRE. The smell alone made me want to shit myself.”
Steve-O’s shoulders rounded with a gag. “Damn, tuna in this heat? That should be against the Geneva Conventions.”
“Unfortunately, I’m not a prisoner of war, so that doesn’t apply to me. But I’m in no mood to listen to your cherry-ass wax poetic about a ribeye while he’s choking down cold chili mac.”
I shrugged. “Fine. Suit yourself. I just figured, with it being tradition and all, we wouldn’t want any bad juju right before we get out of here.”
He stared at me for a long second, his jaw ticking at the hinges. None of us were sure if it was OCD or superstition with him, but he was a staunch creature of habit.With a suffering sigh, he crossed his monster forearms over his chest. “Just fucking get it over with.”
His window of his patience would be short, so I rushed out with, “A burger from The Grille.”
His dark brows climbed his forehead, while Nutz and Steve-O let out a groan.
“Like a backyard grill?” Skytrash asked.
Nutz beat me to the response. “No. It’s a grease pit that asshole swore had the best burger on the East Coast. Talked about it nonstop for weeks. Over a long weekend, he convinced me and Steve-O to road-trip it back home with him so we could experience it too. We drove ten hours, refusing to eat anything to save room for this godly burger.”
“Let me guess, it was a frozen patty?” Skytrash deadpanned.
“We don’t know,” Nutz continued. “This idiot didn’t bother to call home or, say, check the Jersey weather in the middle of January before we left. By the time we got there, a huge winter storm had taken out The Grille’s power, so while they were still open, they couldn’t cook anything. Essentially, we drove twenty-plus hours round trip for a club sandwich and a bag of chips.”
That was all mostly true. The burger at The Grille was fucking amazing. They were so addictive I’m pretty sure old man Branning laced them with narcotics.Though I’d yet to piss hot on a drug test, so maybe not.Mainly, I’d just needed to get home that weekend and wanted a little company for the drive. With the storm approaching, I’d worried about my mom’s ancient generator being able to keep the house warm.It wasn’t my fault they were gullible. I mean seriously, who the hell drove ten hours for a burger?
“You two can talk all the shit you want, but it was a damn good club sandwich,” I lied.
“What do you expect? We were starving. I’d have eaten S’arnt’s biohazardous tuna at that point,” Steve-O shot back. “It didn’t even have the bacon on it. That is literally the only ingredient that upgrades dry-ass ham and turkey to club level.”
I waved them off. “Ah, quit your bitching. You should be thanking me. That was a damn good trip. Minus Steve-O’sshitty-ass music.”
Nutz scoffed, but Steve-O was quiet.
Eerily quiet.
Too quiet.
The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as the whole room went on alert.
“Whatcha got?” S’arnt asked.
“I’m not”—he paused—“sure exactly. Hey, Cherry, this guy one of your regulars?”
“The guy with the dog?” I asked. Snagging my binoculars, I went and stood next to Nutz so I didn’t crowd the rifle. “Yeah, that’s him. He walks his dog every day at thirteen thirty. Cleans up his shit and everything.”
“He usually got a phone open like that?”
The air in the room went static. Not that I needed oxygen as I zoomed in on his hand. My stomach wrenched as I saw the camera on the phone peeking through his sprawled fingers.
Aimed directly at us.
“Oh, fuck,” I breathed.
“S’arnt!” Nutz called, louder than we’d spoken in days. “We got a black sedan coming in hot from the southeast.”
“Oh, fuck,” I repeated as all the puzzle pieces in my head snapped into place, each one feeling like a rusty dagger carving my soul.
The phone.
His timing, right at shift change and the only time we were all in the room together.
Cleaning up after his dog so he could linger to take pictures.
Clearly, we hadn’t been the only ones running surveillance.
And somehow, I’d completely missed it.
“West!” S’arnt barked. Not Cherry. West. “ Get on the sat phone with the TOC. Tell ’em we’ve got a black sedan traveling at a high rate of speed in our direction, and stand by until I can get a count of occupants and weapons.”
“Roger, S’arnt.”Adrenaline rocketed inside me as I raced from the room. My heavy footfalls echoed asI raninto the bedroom across the hall and snatched up the satellite phone. I spoke with an urgency, sharing the pertinent details, but I had no idea what I was saying.
Mytraining had taken over as if the Army had installed an autopilot inside me, but my mind was a million miles away.
How had I missed the phone?
How the fuck had I missed him carrying a goddamn phone?
I’d never doubted my abilities as a soldier before, but after that, I’d never be able to trust myself again.
“Vehicle’s not slowing, S’arnt!”my brother called.
Then it was my cousin. “What the fuck is this guy doing?”
Then my second cousin. “There’s four occupants, and I see two AKs, S’arnt!”
And lastly, my uncle. “Take out the driver.”
I didn’t remember much after that. I think they fired. I prayed every night to a God that I wasn’t sure existed that they were at least able to defend themselves.
Those four men were the best of the best.
They were heroes.
They were my family .
And in the blink of an eye, as the car slammed into the front of the building, detonating on impact…
They were gone.