Another One Bites the Dust Page 4
Knowing that the way to handle this was to play it down, I said, “Let’s go, Bubbles. Unless you want me to miss my plane, be court martialed, and then tell everyone about your Angry Bird underwear in retaliation.”
Chuckles filled the night, and I held out my hands to her, raising from her crouch in a flurry. I’d pissed her off, which was good since I didn’t want her thinking about anything that had to do with her attack.
Payton dropped the keys into my hand before walking to the passenger side. Payton drove a sweet little Mazda R-6, and it looked cute and spunky, which fit her personality perfectly. I dropped my bag into the trunk, and slammed it down. Payton was already in the passenger seat, and I pressed the button on the side of the seat, moving the seat back as far as it could go before I got inside the car.
I’d learned my lesson already. Short people sit about two inches from the steering wheel. I’d tried to drop in, as I would do a normal car, once, and only once. I promptly knocked my chin on the steering wheel and banged my knees on the dash.
“It’s only at the Gregg County Airport. I’m catching a flight with a troop who is shipping out on a C-130. You can be back in bed by six if you hustle.” I said as I pulled out into the deserted street.
“I’ll stay with you until your flight leaves.” Payton whispered.
I hated that she was so upset. It might not have been the best idea to sleep with her before I went off to places unknown. If I had a caring bone in my body, I would’ve never even started this, but I was a selfish bastard. I wanted her. I had her. I was keeping her. Simple as that.
The ride to the airport was a silent one. If I was honest with myself, I didn’t want to say anything that would make her cry any harder than what she was already doing. Albeit quietly. She was trying to keep it concealed, but I grew up with a little sister who cried all the damn time. I knew what crying looked like, let alone sounded like.
I reached over and held her hand for the entire trip. A few sniffles escaped here and there, but other than that, she was strong, and didn’t try to make me feel bad about leaving her like some of the men I’d known had had done to them. When you leave, having a hysterical woman on your hands doesn’t make it any easier. Going away to war doesn’t sit well with any man; we need our women to be strong, to be the one person we can lean on when we need someone to support us.
The mammoth C-130 dominated the runway as we walked up to the gates. There were women saying their final goodbyes to their men, children weeping as they waved their moms or dad’s goodbye, as well as parents, giving their babies one last hug before they sent them off to war. If you’ve never been to a deployment send-off, it’s a chilling sight to witness.
Realistically, you know that at least one of these boys won’t make it home again. Will it be the one kissing his very pregnant wife? Or will it be the one being hugged by his dad? Possibly it could be the one that left his girlfriend in tears. One just prayed. All you could do was have hope.
The send-offs are sad, almost like a pall hangs over the room. I’ve been through two deployments in my lifetime. This will be the first time I’ll be leaving a woman I loved waiting for me to come home. This time I’m leaving so much more. My sister. My brothers, the men who watched my back, and kept me safe and breathing. My niece and nephew. Payton.
That’s what was so hard. I had so much to love, and leaving them behind, knowing I wouldn’t see them for an undetermined amount of time made something deep in my chest ache.
A shout disrupted the quiet, and the soldiers responded instantly. Some disentangled themselves from their crying children. Others walked sedately to the plane; no one there to see him or her off. While some gave one final kiss to their wives and girlfriends. We watched as the men lined up in perfect unison just outside the ramp that led to the back of the plane. The families watched on with pride, sadness, and love in their eyes.
One by one, the men made their way to the plane. The massive C-130’s engines roared to life, and there was nothing left to hear but the beautiful sound of that monster running. It would be responsible for taking these men and women into a battle zone. It would also bring them home, whether dead or alive, and that was what had everyone scared to death.
I heard Payton’s breath hitch beside me, and I turned and watched her struggle to hold it together. She looked scared to death, and I hoped everything worked out; that I would come back to her. It broke my heart seeing her fight this battle. She’s gone through so much this past year, and she was about to lose the only lifeline that was able to help her battle the nightmares.
I gathered her up in my arms and gave her one last thorough kiss. Her body melted against me, and I longed to take her back home and use her for hours, until both of us had no strength left to move. Regrettably, duty called.
“If you need me, all you have to do is call. Same number. If I can’t answer, I’ll call you back as soon as I can. Make sure you call me; I’ll know if you need me. If I don’t answer, call James, and even Sam, Gabe, Jack, or Elliott. They’ll be there for you just as I would.” I said before kissing her one last time.
She nodded, but kept silent as she watched me toss the duffle over my shoulder. The rifle still in my right hand, I looked into her eyes to gauge her control. Her chin was set at a stubborn angle; her hair was in a crazy disarray around her head. She was still wearing my Pepsi shirt, but had on her jeans and ugly ass yellow Crocs she always wore. There were no tears, which I was grateful for since crying women gave me hives.
A sudden commotion at the gate of the airport made me lift my eyes from Payton’s ugly shoes. What I saw made me want to groan and curse. Ember’s ugly piece of shit car was barreling down the side road that ran up to the parking lot of the airport. Tires screeched as she came to a halt in the fire lane, and practically fell out of the car, running to me. She looked like she just ran out of the house in what she was wearing, which was a threadbare tank top and tight shorts that showed off way too much skin.
“Jesus Christ, Ember. Don’t you wear any fucking clothes?” I ground out once she reached me.
“Don’t you curse at me, asshole. Why would you just leave like that! I was supposed to take you. I wanted to see you before you went!” She screeched, but immediately started tearing up, but refusing to let the tears spill over.
My heart dropped when I finally figured out why she was so upset. The last time I’d had an accident, and she’d gotten a call in the middle of the night saying that I was in Germany. Nothing was released other than that, and it scared the crap out of her. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal myself, but she was a girl. Girls did weird shit all the time, and I never understood why.
“I’m sorry, Emmie. Come give me a hug before I go. Be quick about it, they’ve already loaded everything and everyone. Now they’re just waiting on me.” I said and then braced myself when I saw her take a running jump at me.
The hand with my duffle in it went around her back, and the one with my M-4 went to my side so I didn’t hurt her. “I love you, Emmie.”
“I love you, too. You big shit head.” Ember said from the crook of my neck.
“Take care of Payton for me. She’s going to be your sister-in-law as soon as I get back.” I whispered, and then was rewarded with the laughter that I intended when I made the statement.
“Does she know that?” Ember wheezed.
“Not yet. Keep her out of trouble. Go hide that death scooter for me. I love you, booger.” I said before kissing her on the cheek and stepping away from her.
Payton and Ember watched as I walked purposefully towards the plane. I could feel their stares in the back of my body, but I didn’t turn around.
“Stay out of trouble, Bubbles.” I yelled right before stepping onto the ramp that led into the belly of the plane.
Chapter 2
Maverick: Tower. This is Ghost Rider requesting a flyby.
Air Boss Johnson: That’s a negative Ghost Rider, the pattern is full.
-Top Gun
The men were seated, buckled, and in the upright position as I made my way to the front of the plane. Some were eyeing me with contempt for holding up the plane, but mostly they watched in curiosity as I walked to my seat. It was a tight fit, and I realized that maybe I shouldn’t have waited so long since I practically had to crawl over every one of them. Murmurs followed me, and I just smiled. Of course, they were curious as to who I was, and why I was so special that I got to come in ten minutes late and not get into trouble. At the very front, I sat down in the one remaining seat that was open, and started strapping myself in.
C-130s were not comfortable. They were made for expediency in transporting troops where they needed to go. This plane was not comfortable. The seats were shit, and you were lucky if you didn’t have a raging back ache by the time they dropped you off. The person beside you was so close that you touched from thigh to shoulder.
“Nice of you to show, Tremaine.” Layne said impatiently.
“This your new group, Core?” I asked as if I didn’t notice his impatience.
Layne Corey was a very good man. At five feet eleven inches, he wasn’t the biggest man around, but he was the most authoritative. He’s honorable to the core, but you didn’t fuck with him, his men, or his country, if you did, you would rethink it really fast. When I first started out in the army, I was assigned to Layne’s command. Over the course of six years, I watched and learned from him. Layne taught me everything I knew now about interrogating. About how to get anything out of anyone. I trusted the man with my life just as I did Sam, Gabe, Jack, James, or Elliott. Needless to say, if anyone else had called me and told me they needed my services, I would have declined. Layne calling me meant that it was something so extreme that they couldn’t take this to anyone else.
“No. I don’t have any more recruits to ruin. We’ll talk more when we get to The Sandbox. I have a new team over there; we’ll debrief, and then get you started on what we need you to do.”
I nodded, seeing as I knew from experience that he wouldn’t be telling me anymore. Leaning my head back, I let my eyes close, and I fell into a light doze. My mind wandered to Payton, and the night we spent together. Then I thought about how scared she looked as I left, and started thinking of the many things that could go wrong. I could die. She could die and I wouldn’t be able to get there in time. She could be hurt, or jumped on a dark street just as she was with that dick head ex-boyfriend of hers.
I stopped my brain on that thought. If I kept it up, I would be sporting an ulcer in no time. Except that my mind didn’t want to stop. It wanted to replay it over and over again. The altercation I had with Rory reiterated what I already knew about him. As soon as Payton told me the basics of the attack, I knew that Rory was a worthless little worm who didn’t deserve to live.
The night Payton told me about her attack, I visited Rory. I’d never intended to confront him, but I’d witnessed a fight with Rory and the new girlfriend, and felt it prudent to speak with him.
A young woman that looked to be in her early twenties came barreling out of the house, followed by a man that had on jeans and nothing else. From what I could decipher, she didn’t like being called by another woman’s name during sex. It would have been funny if the woman he was talking about hadn’t been Payton.
I waited until the woman peeled out with a screech of tires before making my approach. It took until I was three feet from the idiot before he noticed me. He startled like a frightened cat, and I let a chuckle escape before I reined it in.
“Can I help you?” Rory said like a whiny little child.
“So, you still have a thing for Payton?” I questioned.
“Who the fuck are you?” He asked.
I was tempted to say “Your worst nightmare” but refrained since it was so cliché. “I would be the man in Payton’s bed. I’m the one who calls Payton’s name when I come.”
It wasn’t really true, but he didn’t need to know that. I intended for it to be true, so the rest was just semantics.
His eyes had narrowed before he said, “You’re not her type.”
“So what is her type? You? So she likes wimpy boys who leave her to die instead of helping like a real man would?” I asked blandly.
“You don’t know jack shit. It’s none of your fucking business anyway.”
I felt anything but sedate though. I was hot. I wanted to pull this guy’s eyelids off, and make him eat them. My skills were about to come in handy. Taking one deep breath and holding it for six seconds, I blew it out slowly, and then started my interrogation.
Giving him the intensity of my eyes I replied, “That’s where you’re wrong, boy. So, why’d you do it?”
“Noneya.” He sneered.
Oh, how original.
The bullshit answers went on for nearly ten minutes before my patience was at an end. Something snapped inside me, and I reached out for his throat, wrapping one hand around it, and pushing him up against his front door. Rory looked shocked, but I don’t know why.
“Now, how about we get down to what really went on, and how about you not delay. I’m a little sick of your bullshit.” I said while giving his neck a tighter squeeze for emphasis.
“I t-thought she was with m-me. When I got back to the car and realized she wasn’t behind m-me, I went back.” He cried.
“So you went back, but you didn’t help her. You just stood by like a pussy and watched them beat the shit out of her?” I asked quietly.
“I called the cops.” He squeaked.
“You called the cops. How nice of you. You know, I really want to beat the ever-loving shit out of you right now, but I won’t. You’re a worthless piece of shit who doesn’t deserve to live. I hope you rot in hell. Stay away from Payton from now on. You better hope I never see your face again.” I said before smacking his head into the door for emphasis. I smashed him against the wall once more before letting his throat go. I was quite satisfied as I watched him slump to the floor, and then nod at me in understanding.
Turbulence in the cabin jolted me out of my thoughts and I gasped. I hated being on a fucking plane. Aside from my parents dying in a plane crash, man was not meant to fly. If he was, he would’ve been born with motherfucking wings. Layne gave me an amused glance, and I flipped him the bird before closing my eyes again, trying to get my breathing back under control.
“You look weird, Max. Something you need some help with?” Layne sniggered from beside be.
Once again, I flipped him off and said, “Fuck you, and yes, actually you can. Will you hold my hand?”
Layne stared at my hand in disdain, and turned his head as best he could given what little room he had to move.
I laughed for a good five minutes before I sobered and said, “Actually, I really do need some help. You remember Apollo? I was wondering if you had a way to contact his breeders. I’m interested in purchasing a family protection dog.”
“Yeah, I remember him, dumbass. He was my dog! I’m still in contact with Apollo’s trainers. I think the owner of K9 Protection is still Taylor Soloman. I have his email right here.” Layne said as he read me out the email address.
I typed out a basic email explaining what I wanted, and then hit send hoping that this was still the correct email for the man. The more I thought about it, the more right I felt that this was the answer to all of Payton’s problems. Since she was so dead set about not having any help, and doing things on her own, I knew that this would be okay in her eyes.
My phone pinged fifteen minutes later, and I pulled up the email.
Max,
I’m so happy to hear from you. I was so saddened to hear of Apollo’s death. The important thing I tried to make understood throughout the company was that he died doing what he was trained and loved to do. As for your inquiry, I think we have just the dog for your fiancé. Since you will not be here to take over the dogs handling, I’ll have one of our female handlers teach her exactly what she needs to know. The training will take around t
wo weeks. We will make sure that the dog is compatible with Payton, that she will know just what kind of weapon she will have with the dog. The dog I’m thinking will be a perfect fit is actually Apollo’s great grandson. He has an excellent bloodline, as you know. I’ve attached a photo of him. His name is Alpha. He weighs in at eighty-nine pounds even. He’s a year and a half old, and has tested well with kids. He also has a deep love of women. We tried to pair him with a male owner, and he was having none of it. I’m not saying that he wasn’t good with him, but that he goes above and beyond for a female. As for payment, that can be negotiated. As soon as we make sure the fit is right, and that Payton is able to handle Alpha, then we will discuss payment. I’ll have Claudia hand deliver Alpha next week. Make sure Payton knows to expect her.
Best Regards,
Sol
I was pleasantly surprised to see that he remembered me so well. Years ago, I’d gone with Layne to pick up Apollo. We’d both had to go through a week training course before he would relinquish the dog into our custody.
For the next three years, we worked with Apollo. He was one of our team. The day he died, it was as if we’d lost one of our own. He’d done a sweep of the building and found explosives lining the interior. There was so much C-4 in that building that when it blew, it knocked every building in a two block radius. Apollo was too close to the blast, and was killed when a building collapsed, crushing him underneath. We worked for hours freeing him, and he had a funeral just as any soldier would. We never got another protection dog, and most likely it was because Apollo just couldn’t be replaced.
ɸ
Fourteen and a half hours after leaving the Gregg County Airport, we arrived at COB Speicher during one hell of a sandstorm. It took another hour of waiting it out before it passed. By the time I stepped foot off the ramp, I was already ready to leave. This place sucked. I forgot, or blocked out, how much I hated it.
I followed Layne into the belly of the base. We walked into a meeting room, and there, surrounding the tables, were a number of men and one very pissed off looking woman surrounding the conference table. Layne took his seat at the front of the table, and I made my way to the back wall and leaned against it. I didn’t want to sit with my back to the door, and the only seat left was doing exactly that.