Trust Me, I Hate You
Romeo Alexander
ROMEO ALEXANDER
Published by Books Unite People LLC, 2020.
Copyright © 2020 by Books Unite People
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. All resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Editing by Jo Bird
Beta reading by Melissa R
Contents
1. Sean
2. Aidan
3. Sean
4. Aidan
5. Aidan
6. Sean
7. Sean
8. Aidan
9. Sean
10. Aidan
11. Sean
12. Aidan
13. Sean
14. Aidan
15. Sean
16. Aidan
17. Sean
18. Aidan
Epilogue
Author Notes
More books by Romeo Alexander
1
Sean
The sea breeze brushed over his sweat coated skin, carrying with it the heavy scent of salt and seaweed. The hottest part of the day had come and gone, and Sean could finally appreciate the moisture-laden wind as it soothed his heated body. He was thankful that their training exercise was a dry run, and they’d been able to leave most of the heavy equipment back at Fort Dale.
“Sean!”
Ricardo’s deep drawling voice snapped Sean from his reverie, and he turned away from the ocean view. Ricardo stood near an area of bushes and trees, where the forest met the sandy beach of the island on which they were training. The man’s forehead was furrowed into a frown as he gazed at Sean, cocking his head curiously.
Sean raised his hand in silent greeting, giving one last look to the sparkling water behind him before walking up to his friend and team member. Ricardo’s dark eyes swept over Sean’s face, reading the emotional weather in an instant before letting his shoulders ease.
“You’re supposed to be a part of this, you know,” Ricardo informed him.
Sean shrugged his shoulders. “You and everyone else decided it was break time, so I took a break.”
“And disappeared for a solid fifteen minutes without letting anyone know where you were going.”
Sean snorted. “How many training exercises have we done on this island? How many times have I wandered off to the same place?”
Ricardo’s eyes drifted over Sean’s shoulder, and he could see the question written on his friend’s face. Having grown up in a town on the shores of Lake Superior, Ricardo took the sight of any large body of water for granted as an everyday occurrence. He never quite understood Sean’s fascination with the ocean, despite knowing Sean had grown up in the middle of nowhere, Kansas, where the largest body of water was a few scattered lakes. The questioning look of doubt on his face faded away a moment later, however, and he turned his attention back to Sean.
“We gonna continue?” Ricardo asked.
Sean nodded. “We need to run through everything again.”
Ricardo turned with a shake of his head. “Don’t see the point, man. Not like we’re going anywhere.”
“For now. But we need to remain sharp for when they do decide to send us back out,” Sean told him, his voice firm.
“If you say so.”
Sean did, but mostly because he had to believe it was true. The loss of one of their own had hit their team hard in more ways than one. Where once Team Maelstrom had been a collection of five highly trained men, experts in cover extraction, now they were four soldiers without a purpose. They could barely call themselves a team. Pulled from the Middle East and plopped down at Fort Dale, they were left to sit around for weeks without any real direction and told to keep themselves trained and sharp by General Winter.
Walking passed Ricardo, Sean moved through the foliage quietly, letting his friend stew in his thoughts. When he entered the clearing where he’d left the other two members of his team, the two men were lounging against a tree. Matt was tapping away at his phone, grumbling at it as he always did when it didn’t want to cooperate, while Nick was enjoying what looked like a nice nap.
“Seriously?” Sean asked.
Matt looked up, brow still furrowed. “Oh, hey, he found you.”
“Not like he wanders off anywhere different,” Nick muttered without opening his eyes.
“There’s always a first time,” Matt said.
Sean took a deep breath. “Get your asses up. We’ve got work to do.”
Matt shoved his phone away. “Not like I’m getting anything done here anyway. Damn thing doesn’t want to load anything.”
“Maybe if you didn’t feel the need to fuss with every bit of code on every app and program you’ve got on it, it might actually work.”
“I’m trying to improve it!”
“Yeah, just like you improved the last five.”
Sean rubbed his head as the two men bickered back and forth over whether Matt’s technological tinkering had any merit. They’d always been like brothers, too close in age, and it usually fell on Sean’s shoulders to have to tell them to shut it. Being stuck at Fort Dale had only made the arguing worse, and it was beginning to wear on Sean’s nerves.
“Enough!” Sean barked, causing the two men to jerk their heads toward him.
The identical looks of shock and annoyance on their faces went a long way toward proving the idea that they were secretly related. That was if it wasn’t for the fact that Matthew had the deep bronze skin of his Latino roots to go with his dark hair and eyes, while Nick was a blond-haired pale boy from the middle of Nebraska. Either someone’s mother had something to own up to, or Sean had been gifted with two bickering idiots.
“Don’t have to be a dick about it,” Matt grumbled.
Nick rolled his eyes. “Yes, he does.”
“Maybe to you.”
“You were included.”
Sean pinched the bridge of his nose, telling himself that he couldn’t get away with killing them. Though he was sure plenty of people would believe Matt and Nick had somehow met with an accident, the people who counted wouldn’t.
“It’s hard to believe they’re two highly trained adults,” Ricardo mentioned from beside him.
Sean turned to look at him in exasperation. “Have they always been this bad, and I’m only now noticing? Or are they so much worse than usual?”
Ricardo shrugged. “I haven’t noticed a difference.”
Sean had, but not just in how much Matt and Nick had taken to bickering. Thankfully they rarely got into full-scale arguments, but the sound of their irritated chatter back and forth was almost worse. It didn’t help that Ricardo had somehow mastered the art of blocking them out, either choosing to ignore them or somehow finding a way not to hear them. He’d always been good at it, but he seemed outright oblivious to everything now.
The thought made him feel even worse when he realized Clint would have stopped them, somehow managing to find and keep the peace.
Sean growled. “I don’t care if I’m being a dick about it or not. You two have been doing nothing but bickering all day. You sound like little kids. You’re soldiers, highly trained, deadly soldiers. Fucking act like it.”
They shot him mutinous looks, but they finally shut up, which was all Sean could hope for. Save for finding a way to gag them, Sean didn’t know any other way of keeping Nick and Matt from arguing. Just like brothers, the two men were also very close, tending to spend their free time around one anothe
r, and knowing every detail of each other’s lives. The whole team had been close, but despite the apparent need to argue about everything with one another, Matt and Nick had been perhaps the closest of the original five of Team Maelstrom.
And Sean didn’t know what had happened to that.
“So, what do you want us to do?” Matt asked, barely keeping the edge from his voice.
As he felt his own temper beginning to rise, he could sense Ricardo drifting away from the conversation. Nick looked as though he wished he were anywhere else but with them, and all the while, Matt looked as though he was spoiling for a fight. It felt as though the four of them were rapidly spiraling out of control and away from one another, their ironclad bonds splintering and threatening to shatter with just the right amount of pressure. And despite trying, there wasn’t a thing Sean could do to stop it.
Sean’s jaw tightened. “Forget it. General Winter isn’t going care if we leave an hour early. He’ll expect that we have our shit together by the time the next exercise comes around, so get your shit together and let’s get out of here.”
“Yessir,” Matt shot back, annoyance clear on his pale face.
Ignoring him, Sean walked past the duo, with Ricardo drifting up behind him. The boat that would take them back to the peninsula on which the fort sat was on the other side of the island. No doubt, Matt and Nick would have appreciated a bit of help hauling the equipment back, but Sean figured they could make up for being unruly asses by lugging it back themselves.
“Do you think they’re actually going to have it out one of these days, or are they going to keep bickering like little old ladies until I lose my sanity?” Sean asked Ricardo once they were what he felt was a safe distance away.
“It doesn’t help when you don’t have any patience.”
Sean snorted. “I think I’ve shown them a shit ton of patience. If I didn’t, I would have knocked their heads together ages ago. They never used to fight like this.”
“And you used not to wander off and stare at the ocean, and you’ve never been the most patient of people, but you never barked at us either.”
“I always bark.”
“Not like that.”
Sean glanced at him, thought about arguing, and decided against it. There’d been enough tempers flaring, and heads butting against one another for one day. Plus, Ricardo wouldn't give him the fight he could feel himself spoiling for anyway. The munitions expert never lost his temper, and only raised his voice in a firefight so he could be heard above the noise of bullets and mortars. There was always a little bit of distance in the way Ricardo handled others, but that distance had never been greater than it had been during the last few months.
“I’ve also never watched my team fall apart,” Sean finally said, looking away.
He wasn’t surprised when Ricardo said absolutely nothing, lapsing back into predictable silence as they made their way through the dense trees and onto the beach. No one wanted to talk about the gaping wound in their team, still aching and bleeding months after the loss of Clint.
Clint Finer had been a good man with a clear head, and he had also been an excellent recon and intelligence specialist. He’d known exactly how to situate himself into the dynamic established already by Nick, Matt, Ricardo, and Sean doing so with a finesse and grace Sean had envied. Without meaning to, the man had become a key member of their team, not just in the field, but back in the safety of home as well. He had been their brother in arms, their best friend, and their support.
And now he was dead.
Ricardo reached the boat, checking it over. “What are you going to tell General Winter?”
Sean looked up, frowning. “What do you mean?”
“You told them he’s not going to care, but we both know he’s going to notice we weren’t here for the full day. He’s going to say something,” Ricardo said, though he didn’t sound bothered by it either.
Sean shrugged, but he couldn't quite think of anything to say in response. He had no doubt General Winter would be very curious to find out why Sean had called off the exercise early. Team Maelstrom was only temporarily out of commission until Command could determine someone who could take Clint’s place on the team.
Sean didn’t believe they would ever be able to find someone who could fill his dead friend’s shoes, but he wasn’t going to waste his breath telling Command that either. Team Maelstrom was supposed to be an elite squad, experts in both reconnaissance and extractions. Once, they had been very good at what they did, and Command wanted them back in the field once the entire team’s slots were filled again.
They didn’t care about the emotional aspect, the hemorrhaging of team morale, or the slow, agonizing death of their bond. They wanted a good fit, one that looked good on paper, and to shove this strange person into the group. Which was why General Winter wanted Sean to keep the team not only in shape but practiced as well. That way, they’d be able to, theoretically, integrate a new member into their team without much trouble.
Sean heaved himself over the side of the boat. “He’ll call me into his office and ask me why the hell I called the exercise off early. I’ll make up something that sounds reasonable, and he’ll either give me that iron glare of his or give me hell. Then he’ll remind me how important it is that we stay at our best, and I’ll agree completely. Then he’ll make me leave, reminding me not to let it happen again.”
“And probably remind you that their still searching for someone else,” Ricardo added as he stepped into the boat.
The last time Sean had been in General Winter’s office, the older man had all but said they were close to finding someone to replace Clint. Sean wasn’t sure what the delay had been, as he didn’t believe for a moment that those in charge actually cared about the emotional wellbeing of the team, and were trying to give them time. Yet he couldn’t think of what could possibly have delayed them finding a replacement for nearly four months.
“I’ve given that a lot of thought, and I think they’re running out of intel guys who are willing to do fieldwork,” Sean said with a shrug.
Ricardo frowned. “I don’t think so.”
Sean eyed him. “Are you going to say that Command actually gives a shit about how we’re doing? That they’re trying to give us time?”
“No, but I think Winter does.”
Sean raised his brow in disbelief. “General Winter? Really?”
Ricardo shrugged. “I’ve never heard anything bad about him, and most people at Fort Dale seem to enjoy working at his base. When was the last time you heard someone bitch about him specifically?”
“Well...never.”
“If anything, most of the people on base have nothing but respect for him. You don’t earn that kind of universal respect by being a prick.”
“Wait, so you think General Winter is putting off the decision?”
Ricardo waited a moment, nodding slowly. “I think because we were put here, and he’s been keeping an eye on us, he’s been the one trying to figure out a good fit for us.”
Sean snorted derisively. “You really think he’s going to know what’s going to work, or who’s going to work, let alone gives a shit?”
“I think you’re too busy being pissed off at everything to notice anything else,” Ricardo said, sitting down at the helm.
“I am not pissed off.”
“Just because you haven’t taken a swing at anyone doesn’t mean you’re not pissed off.”
Sean opened his mouth, spared from having to respond by the crash of two pairs of heavy feet. It was followed by a loud complaint from Matt when he caught sight of them, equipment on his back, and under each arm. Nick was right behind him, quick to immediately start arguing with Matt over his moaning. And just like that, the two of them were back to arguing as they fought to get the equipment into the boat.
Sean looked at Ricardo. “I hope if you’re right, General Winter knows what he’s doing. It’s going to take a miracle to fix this disaster of a team.”
2
Aidan
As a rule of thumb, mind games were supposed to be Aidan’s wheelhouse. Most intelligence officers were given training not only in deciphering and collating information, but in methods of collecting it, both from non-living and living targets. Depending on their future placement, either at a base or in the field, the specialization of their training changed.
A future field agent like himself was trained not only to decipher necessary information before leaving but to gather and utilize limited intel while out in the field. Aidan had been trained to read the environment and data, and people as well. Field agents needed a great many skills, but knowing how to read your team, the enemy, and any number of people was vital. It was one of the skills Aidan had enjoyed learning to hone, figuring out how people worked, what motivated them, and how he might get reactions or information from them.
Even with all that, he still hated the politics of the military.
“The General will be with you soon,” the small man behind the desk informed him for the seventh time.
Aidan had been keeping track.
Whether or not the cute twink riding the desk knew that, Aidan wasn’t sure. It would help to know if the man, whose desk plaque read ‘Christian’ had been working for the General for very long. Well-trained and seasoned receptionists, particularly those who worked in the military, were difficult to read, something Aidan had always found amusing. Hiding behind an air of absolute friendly professionalism, there were no easy tells as to what lay behind those guileless baby blue eyes and that bright, white smile.
Trust Me, I Hate You Page 1