Grayson (Shadow Warriors #11)

CHAPTER ONE

Grayson Matthew Michaels was the only son of Striker Michaels and Violet Robicheaux Michaels. His father had been a fierce U.S. Marine who fought his way back from a horrible divorce, nearly drowning himself in alcohol.

His ex-wife married an attorney at the law office she was working at, then promptly cleaned Striker out.

At the time, both of his brothers, Gunner and Hunter were working with Steel Patriots MC.

They would all soon become family members of REAPER, then REAPER-Patriots, and all those name changes that followed.

He and Violet didn’t think they could have children, nor did they think they wanted children.

Grayson was definitely a surprise. A late-in-life baby for both of them, his parents weren’t nearly as concerned about his birth as his grandfather, Gaspar Robicheaux.

His concern was for his own baby. Violet.

Grayson entered the world with dozens of aunts, uncles, and cousins. A ready-made group of best friends. Like his father and uncles, he was tall, broad, and rippling with hard earned muscles.

Most of the men ran, lifted weights, and worked on hand-to-hand skills, mastering a variety of weapons and languages.

For Grayson, his bulk seemed to naturally pile on. Even in high school he was more muscular than other boys his age. When he made the decision to go into the Marine Corps, his family wasn’t shocked.

“You know, the Rangers would love someone like you,” smirked his Uncle Antoine. He just laughed.

“I know, sir. But I think the Corps is right for me.”

“It’s a great choice,” said Gaspar. “I’m proud of you for wanting to serve.” He hugged his grandfather tightly and then hugged the other two-hundred people waiting to say goodbye.

Last, were his parents, his beautiful mother Violet, and his nearly identical twin father. They were often mistaken for one another because of their size and build.

“You’re going to do great things,” said Striker hugging his son.

“Finish college, Grayson,” sniffed Violet. He laughed, hugging her again.

“I promise, Mom. I already have nearly sixty college credits and I’ll be taking online classes while in the Corps.”

“You’re not going to have a lot of time, Grayson,” said Striker.

“I’ll make time,” he said nodding at him. “I made a promise to you and Mom and I swear I’ll keep that promise.”

They heard someone honking and turned to see East Wolfkill in the big SUV. His own son, Xander, and his nephew, Weston, were headed to Army basic, hoping to one day become Green Berets like their fathers, uncles, and grandfather.

“Gotta go,” said Grayson with a smirk. “I love you guys.”

“We love you, too,” said Violet.

Gaspar stared at the three precious sons leaving them to give back to a country that didn’t seem to care any longer. He knew that if anything happened to Grayson, it would kill Violet as he was their only child.

“He’ll be fine, honey,” he said looking down at Violet.

“I know, Dad,” she said snuggling against him. Striker held tightly to her hand, then casually walked away. “He’s struggling.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

Gaspar followed Striker into the gardens, far enough behind him to ensure he had space and peace if he wanted it. He heard a strange sound then turned the corner at the hedge.

Striker was kneeling in front of Irene’s statue of the Mother Mary. His head was down, his hands folded in prayer as his shoulders shook with cries.

“Please,” he whispered, “please protect my only son. Please, don’t take him from me and his mother. I know I did horrible things, we all have in the name of country. But please, don’t take my baby.”

Striker felt a massive hand on his shoulder, then another and another. When he stood, he turned to see all the Robicheaux men, his brothers, Hunter and Gunner, Trak, Zeke, and a dozen more.

“I’m sorry,” he said standing and wiping his face. “You must think I’m a weak ass piece of shit.”

“We don’t think that at all,” said Zeke. “We think you’re a man who loves his son and is worried for him. Don’t you think we all were? Even the almighty king of silence was worried for his sons.”

All the men turned to look at Trak and smirked. Trak stared at Striker and stepped forward, pulling him into a man-hug.

“Your son is prepared, well-trained, and more importantly, he is watched over by all of us. He will come home.” Striker nodded, tears still coming down his cheeks.

“Then why I am so fucking scared for him?” he asked.

“Because you love him and you know how dangerous the job is,” said Gaspar. “Don’t you think we all felt this way with our children? Sons, daughters, grandsons and granddaughters. We worried for them all. Some of us cried behind closed doors, others cried in the open allowing others to comfort us.”

“Being a father is the toughest job next to being a mother,” said Hunter.

“We try to be strong, brave, stoic. For what? For fucking what? To try and pretend we aren’t human?

That we don’t possess feelings or fear? It’s all bullshit and I’m grateful every day that my wife has shown me how to let that bullshit out.

“You’re a good man, Striker. A good brother, husband, and father. A great teammate. You’ve done your job and raised an amazing son. Grayson will make it. We’ve all trained him to make it.”

“I know you’re right,” said Striker. “It’s just that we waited so long to have a child. We didn’t think we could have children and then he was there, like a message from God.”

“It was a message alright,” chuckled Antoine. “It was a message that said you needed humbling. Children have a way of doing that to you. But he’s not a child any longer, Striker. That is a full-grown man and he’s going to make us all proud.”

When they appeared from the gardens, Violet smiled at her husband, knowing what the men had done for him. She knew because she was surrounded by three dozen women who had done the same for her.

Grayson did not disappoint. They attended his graduation from basic, attended every time he was promoted, and watched as he received not one college degree, but two.

He’d received three purple hearts and more medals than he could carry on his chest. He’d seen war, skirmish, conflict, famine, disease, and everything else the world had created to kill man.

He was tired.

Now a Sergeant Major in the Marine Corps, he was thinking of returning home. This time for good. More than twenty years in service. No marriage. No children. Nothing except the medals on his chest.

One more time and then he was going home.

One more.