by J. B. Havens
Forged by Steel
Steel Corps-Book Three
By J.B. Havens
Forged by Steel
Copyright (c) 2016 J.B. Havens
All Rights Reserved.
Forged by Steel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Table of Contents
Playlist
Also by J.B. Havens
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
About the Author
Playlist
Warriors – Imagine Dragons
Boots & Blood – Five Finger Death Punch
Diary of Jane – Breaking Benjamin
Jekyll & Hyde – Five Finger Death Punch
If I Ever Leave This World Alive – Flogging Molly
Lay Me Down – The Bare Naked Ladies
Painkiller – Three Days Grace
I’ve Got Your Six – Five Finger Death Punch
Headstrong – Trapt
The Vengeful One – Disturbed
The Sound of Silence – Disturbed
Wake Me Up When September Ends – Green Day
Also by J.B. Havens
Core of Steel: Steel Corps Book One
Hardened By Steel: Steel Corps Book Two
It is recommended that the Steel Corps Series be read in order.
Acknowledgments
This book is dedicated to our men and women in uniform. Those that leave home and the comforts it provides to fight for us, for our freedom, and for the brothers and sisters by their side.
They are the true heroes. Our military, our police, our first responders and paramedics.
Thank you for your service, your sacrifices, and your bravery.
J.B.
Chapter 1
The table was cold against my legs, even through my thermal pants. What is it about doctor’s offices that makes them so damn cold?
I touched my face lightly, tracing the neat line of stitches. It was still tender, but healing nicely. Five days didn’t seem like much time at all, but it felt like a lifetime since I’d been tied to Julio’s table.
“How’s my favorite Staff Sergeant today?” Doc Hamilton said as he came into the small medical center. We’d added the office, exam room, and a small surgical suite on when he’d moved here with us. It had been simple enough to knock down a few walls on the first floor of the barracks. In addition to the medical clinic; he had a small apartment.
“Ready to get this crap out of my face. It itches.” The cut on my arm was healing fine, but it would be another week until I could take the stitches out of my thigh. Facial lacerations heal faster. Who knew?
“Lean your head back and close your eyes. After I remove these, you’ll need to keep butterflies on it for maybe another week or so. I’m only taking the stitches out now so you don’t get a hash-mark scar from the threads. I really wish you had allowed me to call in a plastic surgeon.” It wasn’t the first time he’d admonished me.
“I don’t care about a scar; I just want it taken care of so I can get back to full duty. I have shit to do, Doc.” I groaned as I laid back. My ribs and torso were slightly better today, but like all rib injuries, they are taking forever to heal.
“Stubborn ass,” he said as he began to snip the threads out. Pulling them out always made my stomach flip over, it was an incredibly weird feeling, like little pieces of your face were being peeled off or something.
“That’s me, Doc.”
“Almost done.”
I could feel a tiny bit of blood dribbling down my cheek, I made sure to keep my mouth closed. I’d tasted enough of my own blood to last a lifetime.
“Copy,” I mumbled as he dabbed the blood off my cheek with a piece of gauze.
Opening a packet of butterfly bandages, he began sticking them on and pulling them tight.
“You’ll need to change these every day. I’m assuming you know how to do this?” he asked as he continued working.
“Yes. Indeed, I do, Doc.”
“How are the ribs?” He asked as he swept all the leavings of my treatment into the trash.
“They hurt.”
“Well, yes, but besides that.” He glared at me, looking very much like a father chastising his child.
“They’re healing. I’m stiff and sore. Normal enough.” I sat back up gingerly. The pain was a constant dull throb in my face and body. What wasn’t cut or bruised was stiff and sore from being tied up in such a strange position.
“How are you mentally?” Genuine concern softened his voice.
“Well enough. Bad dreams mostly.” My mouth opened, and truth poured out, I wasn’t sure why. Doc Hamilton put me at ease in a way that all doctors should.
“That’s normal. If it becomes too troublesome or you find yourself having flashbacks when awake, come to me. Again, everything we talk about stays between us. I won’t even tell Jackson.” He patted my shoulder.
“Appreciate it, Doc.” I slid off the table, careful not to jump and jar my ribs.
“Do you want something to help you sleep?” He opened a cabinet behind him, inside were neat rows of white bottles.
“No. Thanks anyway. I’ll work through it on my own.” I refused to take pills and be lulled into a false sense of security.
He opened the door and ushered me out into the small foyer of the barracks. I buttoned my pea-coat and pulled a wool hat down over my ears. In the past few days, winter had arrived early, bringing with it below freezing temps and snow. A harsh wind was blowing the snow around in drifts, the icy blasts creeping in under the heaviest of coats.
“Come back in six days and we will check the stitches in your thigh,” he said as I stepped out into the cold.
“Close the door, you’re letting the snow in. See you in a few days.” I turned from him and limped the short distance to the Humvee I’d brought down. The last thing I needed was to find some ice and land on my ass.
Climbing into the front seat, I flipped the switch to ON and waited for the glow plugs to turn off. Rubbing my arms to try and keep warm I attempted to ignore how the cold made the cut on my face hurt. I wasn’t sure what I thought about it yet. The guys, Jordon in particular, didn’t understand why I had refused plastic surgery. I wasn’t completely sure myself either.
The glow plugs switched off, and I started the Humvee. Driving one of these was like driving a metal brick—they didn’t steer worth a damn and weren’t all that fast either. All the body armor weighed it down, making it slow. Even with these drawbacks, they were still damn nice to have around. They could and did go just about anywhere.
We were lucky enough to have these older, but better, pre-Iraq war Humvees. Over in Iraq, some
genius in the Army thought it was a grand idea to change the suspension and to put the fucking air conditioner intake in the rear fender well, so once you hit a substantial bump, you destroyed your AC, which is wonderful in the desert.
Snow and slush flew off the tires as I climbed the hill from the barracks up to the compound. My sunglasses protected my eyes from the glare bouncing off the bright white snow. Sliding to a stop in the slick slushy crap, I checked the time. The boys should be getting together in the hangar right about now.
Switching off the Humvee and carefully climbing out, I slopped my way into the hangar. Snow slid off my boots onto the concrete, leaving footprints in my wake as I walked toward the ring in the back. Flynn and Pierce were sparring with the others looking on. Jordon caught my eye immediately. He was shirtless and coated in a sheen of sweat which made his tattoos stand out even more. His wrapped hands grasped the rope in front of him as he shouted encouragement to Pierce. Veins in his arms were popped out. I traced their path along his arms, shoulders, and down his back, my gaze roaming over him even when I couldn’t see the veins anymore. I looked away from him before someone noticed me eye-fucking him.
“Morning, Mic,” Rook said from my left. “Sporting some new additions I see,”
I shrugged off my jacket and laid it on the bench in front of the lockers. I needed to loosen up some of this stiffness.
“Yeah. Doc said a few days then I should be good.” I pulled off the layers of shirts I wore and sat to unlace my boots.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Rook snapped, angry out of nowhere.
“What the fuck does it look like, Corporal?” I glared at him, not pausing as I took off my shirt, the neon sports bra I wore beneath clashing horribly with my bruised ribs and chest.
He crossed his arms over his chest and stood in front of me. “Looks like you’re about to be a dumb-ass.”
“You look very intimidating and it might work for some, but it’s a wasted effort on me, Rook. Can your shit. I need to work out some of this stiffness.” Using athletic tape, I began wrapping my hands in preparation.
Jordon picked that moment to take notice of me. He went from relaxed, to pissed off in two-point-five seconds. Jogging toward me, he stepped in front of Rook.
“It’s too soon.” He said, reaching for my arm.
I jerked backward out of his reach. Pain flaring through my ribs as I did so.
“I think you two ass hats are forgetting that I’m an adult. You’re not my mommy, I need to work out a little, and I am going to. You were in that ring three fucking days after the beat-down you got in that room over there.” I pointed to the door to the sound-proof room. “So fuck off.” I stomped away from them. I was going to stretch and maybe work the bag a little.
“Fucking hell,” Jordon muttered and followed me.
“Jordon, unless you’re going to help me with the bag or something, go play with the boys and leave me the fuck alone. I’m stiff and sore. I need to move or it’ll be twice as hard later. You damn well know this.” I took a deep breath into my belly as I prepared to stretch, it was going to hurt like hell.
I started moving my arms, stretching them over my head and side to side; being careful not to tear the stitches in my arm.
“Have you looked in a mirror? You’re every color of the fucking rainbow. Give it a few more days, let your wounds heal a little more.”
I glared at him over my shoulder. Pushing my hair out of my eyes, I ignored him and went back to stretching.
“You can’t ignore me, Mic. I won’t let you.” He stood in front of me, invading my personal space. When I stood back up our chests were only inches apart.
“What’s this about, Jordon? Really? Because if our situations were reversed, I’d be yelling at you to get your candy-ass moving. Yet, when I follow my own advice, you go all alpha on me?” I put my fists on my hips and stared him down. I tried to keep eye contact and not stare at his chest that was so close to my face. I followed a drop of sweat that slid down his pecs, tracking it downward and through the small amount of hair just above the band of his shorts. He snapped his fingers in front of my nose, drawing my attention back up to his face.
“You’re not me. You’re not them.” He pointed at the guys who were doing a damn good job of observing us without being too obvious about it.
“No, I’m not. What fucking difference does it make?”
“You’re too hurt. You’re limping still, and the bruises on your ribs are larger than my hand.” He laid his big, warm hand against my side gently. The purple and blue bruise was like a halo of pain around his hand. The pain disappeared under the touch of his skin on mine. A tingling warmth spread from his palm and fingers outward in a rush of sensation.
“Move your hand,” I whispered, staring into his eyes. His green eyes darkened with carnal knowledge and desire. He knew how much and how easily even a simple touch was affecting me.
“You don’t want me to,” Jordon whispered back.
“Move it or I will.”
“The sexual tension around here is getting ridiculous,” Flynn broke in, knocking Jordon’s hand from my side. He was panting and wiping off the sweat dripping from his face with a towel. “Either fuck or let this go.”
I was rendered speechless. My mouth popped open and shut, trying to find something to say. I knew I needed to deny it, but couldn’t quite manage it.
Jordon laughed at Flynn, his wide grin showing that dimple that drove me crazy.
Finally, I found my anger and clung to it. “Flynn! What the fuck!”
“Seriously, we all know you and Jordon are hot for each other. Either do something about it or stop mooning over each other.” He slung his arm over my shoulder.
“Get the fuck away from me.” I slapped him off me and stomped to the heavy punching bag.
I saw their faces as I jabbed and circled. Jordon laughing at me—his heart stopping grin the cause of my racing heart, not the exercise I was putting myself through. Rook with his quiet mystery. Pierce and Jones with their steadfast loyalty. It would all be over, gone… finished, if I let myself fall any further for Jordon. If I allowed it to happen, there would be no going back.
“Mic, seriously, you don’t need to do this. You don’t need to prove to any of us how tough you are.” Jordon’s voice grated on my nerves.
“Jordon,” I panted. “This has nothing to do with that. I need to work out, or I will be too stiff to move. I’m not going to tear something or over-do it. I’m not stupid no matter what you guys might think. So kindly fuck off.” I jabbed the bag again, sending it swinging.
“Fine! Fuck, you’ve been through hell, and I’d like to spare you more pain, but if you like pain so much, have the fuck at it!” Jordon’s anger was as misplaced as my own. We weren’t arguing about me working out, we were furious for an entirely different reason.
“Shut it, the both of you, Pierce snapped, losing all patience with our bickering. “Mic, go the fuck home and rest like you know you’re supposed to. Jordon, leave her alone.”
Fuck this… I’m out, I thought as I pulled the tape off my hands in long strips as I strode to my locker. Stepping back into my boots, I carefully bent to lace them back up.
“They don’t want to leave each other alone, dude,” Flynn said to my back. “That’s the fucking problem.”
Jordon stepped closer to him, ready to engage him. “Flynn, if you open your mouth again, you’re going to be eating your meals through a straw for a month. Shut. The. Fuck. Up. For once in your life.”
“Whatever. I’m out of here too.” Flynn grabbed his gym bag and slammed the door in his wake.
“I’m not talking about this now.” I finished getting re-dressed and continuing to ignore all of them.
“Mic—”
I held up my hand, halting Jordon’s words.
“No. Just no.” I jerked the zipper of my jacket up. “Not today, guys. Pierce, you’re right, I need to rest.” I touched my face, feeling the bandages holding my ch
eek together.
Rook spoke softly from where he was standing beside Jones. “You can’t avoid this forever, Mic.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” I, too, slammed the door behind me.
****
Jordon watched Mic’s retreating back, her slight limp reminding him all too well of what she’d been through recently—what they had all been through.
Jones put his Stetson back on before shrugging into his heavy coat. “She’s going to break-down soon.”
“Maybe,” Pierce added. “You never know with Mic. She’s famous for doing the unexpected.”
Jordon wanted to run out after her…to stop her…to hold her. “We need to help her.”
“Leave her for a bit, boy-o. She needs time.” Pierce’s voice was deep with his concern. “She didn’t go into much specific detail about what Julio did to her. It hasn’t hit her yet. We need to be here for her when it does.”
“I wish I could kill him again,” Rook grumbled between reps of bicep curls with a forty-pound weight.
“You and me both, brother,” Pierce said.
Jordon was finished with his workout. With no mission, there wasn’t much for them to do in their downtime. Nothing specific they needed to train for. They just needed to maintain a constant state of readiness.
“Any word from Jackson about the Russian girls?” Jordon asked, hoping to distract all of them from Mic for the moment. Those girls haunted him, showing up in his dreams. Their broken bodies and spirits begging him to save them.
“Only that they’re all safe in the US and are okay medically,” Pierce reported. “None of them should have any lasting damage, physically at least.”
“We should interview one of them,” Rook suggested, stacking the weights he’d used back on the barbell rack.
Jordon was disheartened at the prospect. “To what end? It would just terrorize them more. These girls aren’t going to be much help. We have to find the original buyer some other way.” He wasn’t sure how much good they could do here. Or if they were even allowed to go into Russia.
Rook shrugged. “You never know. It’s worth a try.”