“You son of a bitch!” Zeke said, rushing him.
Before Zeke could reach him, I reared back and followed through, allowing all of my anger, grief, and adrenaline to flow through my arm. Unfortunately for Heath, I’d harbored years of it.
Heath fell straight back, his head making an audible thud when he hit the ground. The hotshots covered their mouths and jumped or stomped, yelling Oh! in unison.
Heath was carried away, and the hotshots circled around me while also holding Zeke back from chasing after them.
“I’ll kill you!” he yelled.
“Easy,” I said, gently slapping his cheek a few times. “I’m fine.”
He quit struggling, watching his friends congratulate me. “You sure?” he asked. Regret weighed down his expression.
“Of course,” I said while I brushed off my shirt. I grinned. “That was fun.”
“Yeah, it was!” Reese said, her eyes bright.
Zeke wasn’t amused. Instead, seeming more concerned over my jaw. “We should get you an ice pack. And a beer.”
“And a championship belt!” Reese said with a smile.
“After you,” I said to them, gesturing to the door.
Zeke nodded, then I followed him inside. We sat at the bar, sore but victorious, and Jerry eyed us all.
“What the hell happened out there?” Jerry asked, unhappy.
“Ice,” Zeke said simply.
“And beers,” I said.
Jerry wasn’t happy about getting the boys and Reese another round, but he nodded and turned, packing dish rags with ice and handing them out like goodie bags. The hotshots filled the stools around me, hyper and happy, chattering to Jerry and each other about the scene outside.
I held the ice pack against the side of my mouth, the dishrag getting stained with my blood. It had been a long time since I’d seen it. Morbid or not, I’d missed it. I’d bled for my training, for my friends, for my country, and now I’d bled for Zeke.
He wasn’t as happy about the brawl as the others, scowling at me.
“What?” I asked, defensive.
“Who are you?”
“Naomi.”
“No,” Zeke said, his head shaking. “Who are you? How did you learn to do that? That’s more than just your run-of-the-mill self-defense.”
I sipped my beer.
“Okay then,” he said, facing forward.
He turned to listen to his friends reenact the fight again, watching them for ten or so minutes. I was surprised that he didn’t try to speak to me again. Zeke sipped on his beer, his back to me as if I wasn’t there. He didn’t seem angry, just that he wasn’t going to force it. I sort of appreciated that about him, even if he was a wanna-be knight.
I finished my beer, set it down on the bar, then stood, fishing in my pocket for cash.
Zeke held up his hand. “I got it, Jerry.”
Jerry nodded to me. “Take care of that jaw.”
I nodded back, using my phone to call an Uber as I made my way to the sidewalk. I leaned against the brick, the throbbing in my face forcing a smile. It had been a good night after all.
chapter three
nine to five
Naomi
I
’d been sitting at the rectangular table in a small meeting room for less than ten minutes before Bianca brought me a blank manila envelope. I peeled up the metal prong with my nearly non-existent fingernails, opened the top flap, and let the contents slide to the table. A name tag, a small octagon-shaped pin with my name and some numbers on it, a notebook of policy and procedures, a partial map of the facility, a signed check with Signing bonus typed in the memo and what appeared to be a key card were inside.
I was going to the bank straight after work to deposit that check. It was just over what I owed for the olive-green Toyota FJ I’d traded Beatrice for.
“Welcome to the Cheyenne Mountain Complex. I’ll explain it all when the others get here,” she said, seeming annoyed.
I couldn’t figure her out. She wasn’t in uniform—meaning she was a civilian—but she had to be the only one in the Complex. I wondered what qualifications she had to have such a trusted position with the man in command, General Tallis. He was a five-starred hard-ass war machine. Even my father respected him.
The door opened, and Martinez walked through with his typical swagger, a smile already on his tan face. I stood, and he immediately one-arm hugged me. “Naomi! You too? I didn’t figure you taking a contract security job. Who else?”
“Harbinger, Kitsch, and Sloan.”
Martinez’s smile instantly vanished. “Trex brought in Kitsch?”
“He trusts him.”
“Yeah but … how is he? Have you heard?”
I glanced back at Bianca, who didn’t seem to care about our conversation, and then simply shook my head. “The same.”
Bianca stepped forward with another envelope in her hand. “Dr. Othello Martinez, welcome to the Cheyenne Mountain Complex.”
“Thanks,” he said with a wide grin.
She handed Martinez his package, and he promptly dumped it onto the table just like I had, pushing each item around with his finger. None of it kept his attention long. He was high strung, sometimes juvenile, but he knew his shit and he kept his head in a fire fight. He’d saved Trex’s life more than once. He was the only one of us who stayed in the Corps longer than a year after Trex left. He’d been in South America, fighting drug lords and killing sex traffickers. Martinez was always looking for a higher calling, and when he finally retired, Trex’s offer came at just the right time.
Martinez sat his black medical bag on the table next to his mess, only looking up when Harbinger walked through the door. “Holy shit!”
Harbinger managed to crack a smile. The silver-haired father of two boys, Henry and Miles, had more on his mind. He was the only one of us with children—the only one of us who wanted that burden. We saw what Harbinger went through to be there for his sons, both to keep in contact with home, and to survive the night in the perilous situations we were sent into so he didn’t scar them for life.
“John Harbinger,” Bianca said, handing him the tan package. “Welcome to the Cheyenne Mountain Complex.
“What’s this?” he asked. He peeked inside, and I smiled. Harbinger wasn’t the kind to dump his things on the table. That was why he was Trex’s second in command.
“Some necessary items. I’ll explain when Kitsch arrives. I trust you’re settling in? The kids are attending school today?” Bianca asked.
Harbinger nodded. “It’s a good school. Their first day was yesterday. They both brought home a friend and played the Xbox until dinnertime. It’s … it’s really good actually, thank you.” The crooked expression on Harbinger’s face was meant to be a smile, but he spent his energy to be normal for his family. He’d seen too much to interact with others as if he hadn’t danced with the Devil to get out of Hell. I shook his hand, knowing even a half-hug could ruin the rest of his day.
“Trex said Caroline has been so happy,” I said.
“She has. We’ve been dreaming about an opportunity like this for a while.”
“By opportunity you mean walking halls for a living?” Bianca asked.
Sloan held his gun to his chest. “As long as we get to hold one of these and be home by dinner, I’d say that’s a pretty good gig.”
Bianca offered a soft smile. “I know the general will be extremely pleased to hear it.”
The door slowly opened, and for the first time Bianca shifted, seeming uncomfortable. Kitsch closed the door behind him, taking off his hat.
“Kitsch,” I said, walking over to him. “So good to see you.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and gave him a full squeeze, and he returned the gesture, then we quickly resumed a professional stance.
Bianca touched her ear then handed Kitsch his envelope. “Good morning. Welcome to the Complex. If you’ll excuse me, I’m expected at the gate.”
>
“Where’s Trex?” Kitsch asked. He was the stoutest and the shortest of us. Trex’s bulldog in the group, Kitsch barked orders and made sure we stayed in line.
I shrugged. “He’s either late or they asked him to report later than us.”
“The latter,” Harbinger and Kitsch said in unison.
“You were here first?” Kitsch asked, his eyes meeting mine. They were still the same, the kind but tired eyes of the friend I remembered. It was strange to think he was so lost.
I nodded. “Couldn’t sleep. Did you?”
He shook his head. “Tossed and turned. Karen probably wanted to kill me.”
The air in the room shifted, and the silence that ensued felt heavier than the dishonesty I was about to display. “How’re the kids?”
Kitsch smiled. “Emily’s almost outgrown her car seat, you know. We’re looking for booster seats now. That’s a thing, I guess. And Dylan’s talking about football this year.”
I shook my head and patted his shoulder. “Time flies, man.”
He nodded, and I turned to glance at the strange look on Martinez’s face. He understood, he wouldn’t argue. We all played along, but the question was how long we should allow it.
The door opened again, and we all greeted Sloan. He was tall, lanky, and a bigger smart ass than Martinez, but he was a hell of a sniper and teammate. I looked around for his package. “You’re too late for the official greeting.”
He looked down at his watch, giving me a side-hug. “Damn. It’s ten ‘til.”
“The only thing I did was not die,” Trex said from the other side of the door just before stepping through with Bianca.
“Fuck me in the ass,” Martinez said, standing from the table he was just leaning on. Trex took a hug from Martinez, Kitsch, Sloan and then shook Harbinger’s hand.
Bianca took us on a quick tour, describing each section. The corridors were basic phonetic alphabet: Alpha, Beta, Charlie and Delta. I was surprised to see fairly quickly into the tour that Bianca wasn’t the only civilian, far from it. Labs were bustling with men and women in white coats sitting in front of tech I’d never seen. We came across two sets of thick blast doors, and rooms full of airmen with patches on their sleeves that read CMAFE, doors guarded by soldiers in uniforms I didn’t recognize. The further we dug in, the staler the air became.
The white painted walls became steel tunnels. Weeping pipes ran along the curved walls and ceiling, and my boots clanged against a metal grid that made up the floor. A low hum churned throughout the corridor, interrupted by the intermittent dripping of water sliding down the already damp rock walls.
“Doesn’t feel right,” Martinez said.
“Easy,” Trex whispered back.
“What you’re feeling is a combination of frequency and vibration experiments and the way it affects the mountain. You’re not wrong,” a woman said from behind us. We turned to face her. She was older, a mess of blonde, frizzy hair, yet unexpectedly elegant, wearing peach-hued plastic glasses on the tip of her nose. She held her hand out to Trex, and he took it. “Dr. Sybil DuPont.”
Kitsch sniffed. “Doctor of what?”
“Astrophysics,” Dr. DuPont said.
Our team traded glances.
The Complex was supposed to be a military base. I could understand NORAD being housed there, but a think tank? “What’s an astrophysicist doing here?” I asked.
“It’s classified,” Bianca said.
After a lot of unnecessary banter, Bianca checked her watch. “Let’s continue the tour. We have eight and a half minutes before we turn back to meet the general.”
“Doctors,” Trex said, nodding before following Bianca farther down the hall.
Harbinger kept close and leaned in when he spoke. “What the fuck is going on here?”
Trex inhaled, trying to process his frustration. “Not sure yet. But I’m going to find out.”
“You’d better,” he said, pulling his rifle close.
We were shown corridors Alpha, Bravo, Charlie and Delta, and then taken upstairs to meet the brass. Bianca’s attitude changed the moment we stepped through the threshold.
“And this is the NORAD Operations roo…” she audibly gasped. “Good morning, Senator Bennett. I thought you were in D.C. What a nice surprise.”
“Is it?” he said, turning to face us.
I froze, trying not to reveal my shock to everyone. Peter Bennett was standing in the center of the room in a fitted dark-blue suit and matching tie. His charming gaze only stayed with Bianca for a few seconds before his steel blue eyes found me. Peter was from Sasabe, Arizona like me, but my father was militia, and Peter’s was a politician. We always found our families on opposite sides of issues, but Peter and I were determined to stay together.
Peter was my first love. Peter was my first everything—including my first broken heart.
Bianca stood taller. “I’m pleased to introduce you to Senator Peter Bennet. He chairs the Complex’s oversight committee, and he visits occasionally.”
“More than occasionally,” Peter said, flashing his grin that always won over the fairer sex.
Trex wasn’t impressed because, being best friends with Matt and then me, he knew exactly who Peter was.
Bianca breathed out an awkward laugh and played with her hair as if she were a smitten teenager, and I shot Trex a wry smile. I couldn’t judge her. I’d been there.
Trex rolled his eyes. Prom wasn’t the last time Peter tried to get me to go on a date with him. We’d kept in touch after high school, and the focus of the conversation was always him trying to convince me that we were meant for each other. Even after Peter broke up with me because he was engaged to the woman his father wanted him to marry, his now-wife, Paige. Even after I’d met Matt. Peter had shared his fear more than once that if we didn’t find a way to end up together, he’d miss his soul mate the rest of his life.
Peter was far out of his element. Soldiers made him skittish. He had followed in his father’s footsteps and tried and failed to write a few bills to limit militias like my father’s. Despite those setbacks, he’d been climbing the ranks in Washington quickly. Except for me, Peter had a knack for figuring out how to get what he wanted. He was more than ambitious; he was obsessive, and his presence in the room at that moment was suspicious.
“Peter,” I said, stepping out from behind my team.
He smiled, looking more relieved than surprised. “Naomi.”
“Bennett,” Harbinger said. “As in Speaker of the House Bennett? I’m guessing that’s your father?”
Bennett straightened his tie. “You are correct.”
“You know him?” Martinez asked, not at all quiet.
Bianca shot me a glare. Her feelings toward me had gone from dislike to a one-sided competition.
I shrugged one shoulder. “We’ve met.”
Bennett couldn’t have looked more heartbroken, and Bianca was unhappy. She cleared her throat. “Shall we go? We don’t want to keep the general waiting.”
As we cleared out, I looked over my shoulder at Bennett once more before we left the NORAD Operations room for the elevator.
Sloan fell behind, and I waited for him. He took the chance to lean over and whisper to me. “Who is he again? The guy in the suit.”
“He’s from Sasabe, like me.” I breathed out a laugh. “We were all homeschooled, you know, the militia brats. The kids from public used to come out and dare each other to get close to our walls. My dad caught Peter trying to sneak into the compound one night. He’s not exactly brave, but he’s always had balls. Does that make sense?”
“Stupid enough to think he wouldn’t get caught?” Sloan grumbled, spitting something from his lips.
“Peter was the politician’s son—the very one who’d caused so much trouble for us. It was a tense four hours until Peter was released. I brought him dinner. We talked. We snuck around to see each other after that.”
“So he’s your
ex? Like a high school sweetheart?”
“Yep,” I said with a sigh.
“Quite a coincidence that we end up here under him.”
“Yep.”
We were introduced to the general and then quickly dismissed.
No one spoke while we retraced our steps back down corridor Charlie, through the blast doors, and to the administrative offices. Bianca left us in a large conference room alone.
The white walls were blank except for a few cracks and a line of portraits of old men with a lot of stars on their shoulders. The paint seemed to be the original coat, the bookshelves nearly empty, the large rectangular oak table with far fewer chairs than it could accommodate.
“Did they bring us here to die?” Martinez asked, looking around.
“It’s where Dr. Philpot is going to make you a candlelight dinner,” I said. I mouthed, He’s into you.
“Fuck off, Nomes,” Martinez said. He tried to make the words sound firm, but I knew Martinez would take a bullet for me just like the rest of the team. Just like Matt had sacrificed himself for them. His face softened. “How do you know that jackass upstairs?”
After a few verbal shots fired, we got back to work.
We met with the general, and then we walked the halls. We got familiar with the lab coats, the space dorks, and the brass. First days were never boring in the military, but that wasn’t true anywhere else. Not even in a military installation, it seemed.
After a long day walking and talking with Trex about the desk clerk at his hotel, I stepped outside and had to shield my eyes until they adjusted to the sunlight. I felt sorry for the people who never left the Complex.
“Okay. Let’s call it a day,” Trex said.
Gravel crunched beneath our boots as we left Bianca standing alone at the entrance, if we didn’t count the half dozen MPs.
Trex shook hands, fist-bumped, and side-hugged my team good night, then climbed into his truck, letting out a sigh.
I perched my arm on top of the open door of my new car with a smug smile.
“What?” Trex asked.
The Edge of Us (Crash and Burn Book 2) Page 3