A Soldier's Promise [The Armstrong Brothers of Cedar Creek 3] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic)

by Rebecca Joyce

  His scars were not just skin deep, they were soul deep.

  He was a useless shell of a man that once existed, and there was nothing he could do about it.

  * * * *

  The next morning, Mason was sitting in front of Jimmy Wilson when the Feds walked in. He had gotten the call before sunrise and was told in not so many words that his ass would be back in the brig if he didn’t show up. So, not wanting to push the matter, he had showed up at the sheriff’s station promptly at eight in the morning.

  “I see you got him here, Sheriff,” Mr. Sticky Fingers said.

  “He’s here. Now I will leave you guys to whatever you need to discuss.” Jimmy huffed and threw a set of keys toward Mason. “Lock up when you leave.”

  They watched as Jimmy left and Mason turned to them. “What now?”

  “We’re waiting for someone.”

  “Who?”

  “You’ll see soon enough.” And with that, the two men found seats and waited.

  Mason was about to blow a fuse as he watched the minutes tick by. After twenty minutes, he had had enough. He had his hand on the door when he saw him walk toward the station.

  “Mother fucker! What the hell is he doing here?” Mason shouted as he rounded on the smiling FBI agents.

  “We were told you would get a kick out of seeing him,” the quiet one said.

  It was the sound of the small bell over the door that snapped his last nerve.

  He turned and faced the one man who had singlehandedly ruined his military career. He hadn’t changed at all. He still had that evil, manipulating smile and those vacant eyes. Mason wanted to rip his fucking head off and shit down his throat.

  “Captain,” the weasel spoke.

  “Get the fuck out of my way,” Mason seethed.

  “I see you’re still angry.” He smiled.

  “I’m warning you, move.”

  “Now, Captain, we don’t want that temper of yours getting us into any more trouble.”

  That did it.

  Mason punched the man hard, knocking him back against the door. He stood by and watched as blood started trickling down his chin. “That was for Pup, you fucking piece of shit,” Mason shouted as he pushed the man out of his way and walked out of the building.

  Mason didn’t get very far, when he saw the rest of them.

  Well, what was left of them.

  They were here, walking toward him.

  His team.

  The tension was rolling off him in waves, and they all saw it. They proceeded with caution as they moved toward him.

  “Captain,” the redheaded man with eyes as old as dirt said.

  “Rich,” Mason said, shaking the man’s hand. He looked around him, and they were all there, all but one.

  Fish, with his enigmatic smile, Talkie reading another book, ignoring everything, Gunny with his stern face, Bird smoking another cigar—they were all here.

  They all saw the piece of shit walk out of the sheriff’s office with a rag to his face.

  “You’re handiwork, Cap?” Fish asked.

  “Yeah,” Mason said, running his hand across his face. “What are you guys doing here?”

  All at once, they each held up a white sheet of paper from the Department of Defense.

  “Fuck!” Mason shouted and started for the bastard once again.

  “Whoa there!” Fish and Gunny said, restraining him.

  “You son of a bitch! I won’t do it. You hear me! Fuck you!” Mason shouted furiously, drawing the attention of the civilians there on the only main street in town.

  “You have no choice, Captain. Either you will follow orders, or I will have your ass in jail for the rest of your fucking life. The only thing that will be left of you will be the maggots eating your decomposing body,” the piece-of-shit rat bastard said.

  “Damn it, Adam. What the fuck happened to you?” Gunny shouted at their former teammate.

  “I moved on, and so should you. Now if you’re done with this public display, we all have a lot of work to do.”

  “Come on, Cap. He ain’t worth it. Let’s just do this God damn job and go home,” Fish said, trying to calm Mason.

  “Yeah, let’s just do and be done with it,” Talkie said, finally speaking up, shutting his book.

  “For Pup,” Gunny said.

  “For Pup,” Bird added.

  “I am going to put a bullet in his fucking head,” Mason promised, watching his former teammate talk and laugh with the men in suits.

  “Thank God, because I thought you guys were gonna make me do it.” Fish smiled.

  The thought of working next to Adam again made him want to rip the man limb from limb. He did not trust Adam, and nothing the little shit said was ever going to change his mind. He was the one who had fucked up and cost Pup his life.

  Regardless, Mason and his team followed, knowing that nothing good was going to come next. Mason sat in that small, cramped room and listened to the vermin who used to be an integral part of his team. He watched as Adam smiled and joked around as if nothing had ever happened. He hated everything that Adam stood for now.

  At one point, he had thought of Adam as a younger brother and would have done anything for him. However, when he sold out his team to save his own ass, and in the process got a member of the team killed, well, as far as Mason was concerned, Adam was a dead man walking.

  What really pissed him off was that the powers that be never thought to inform him that they put a sleeper on his team. They put a fucking nark on his well-oiled, perfect-missioned team, and he never knew about it. None of them did. He had to give Adam credit. He was good at what he did. Of course, it didn’t take a genius to lie to your brothers’ faces.

  “It should be a simple snatch-and-grab this time,” Adam began. “Since we are on US soil we can’t go in guns blazing, but we can be armed. Latest intel says he is staying at the Marriott in downtown Austin. He’s been holed up there, waiting for a new visa. Thanks to the boys at the immigration office, when the idiot applied, he used a name that he previously had used before, sending up all the red flags. So they are feeding him a bunch of bull at this very moment.”

  “When do we leave?” Gunny asked.

  “As soon as our man on the inside gives us the word. He’s been having a hell of a time trailing him. He says the bastard never stays put. Apparently he’s enjoying the nightlife.”

  “Why not get him while he’s out?” Fish asked.

  “Because there will be too many witnesses. Remember, the man is supposed to be in custody, not out partying.”

  “In other words, your ass will be in the frying pan if the powers get wind that you fucked up another assignment.” Talkie shot him an accusatory glance.

  “Anyway…”

  “Answer the man. Just how did you lose him?” Rich asked.

  “We made a mistake. We didn’t expect him to have friends on the inside,” Adam admitted.

  “You mean to tell me that you didn’t expect one of Columbia’s biggest drug lords to have compadres, brothers, and patsies on the inside? Man, you are dumber than you look,” Gunny said.

  “So you dropped the ball…again.” Fish smiled.

  “Yes, the Bureau fumbled. Now can we get back to the matter at hand?” Adam asked, annoyed, before he continued.

  Mason sat there looking at him. His eyes never left him. Wherever the lecher went, his eyes followed. Mason waited. He could be patient. Hell, he was as patient as they came. He was waiting for just the right moment, and when nobody was looking, he was going to snap that little prick’s neck.

  It was close to noon when Mason finally walked out of the briefing. He was never so happy to be out of there. He still couldn’t believe he had agreed to do it. However, he knew why. There was no way he was going to let his team go by themselves, and definitely not with that rat bastard leading the way.

  As he reached his truck, his team walked up to him. “What?”

  “So where’s the beer?” Gunny asked. Mason just look
ed at all of them and smiled.

  “Fine, but you mess up the place, you clean it.”

  They all grinned and snapped to attention, shouting, “Yes, sir!”

  They were all brothers, and when a brother called, you ran.

  Always.

  They had only been at his house for six hours and Mason realized why he lived alone. Within the last hour, all his beer was gone, his furniture had been moved and arranged to their satisfaction, his television was on some MMA fight, and someone was in his bathroom. Looking at the mess in the kitchen was just as bad. Food was everywhere, dirty dishes were in the sink, and when he went to grab the last bottle of Jim Beam out of the freezer, it was missing.

  Could his night get any worse?

  Just then, a loud knock at his back door alerted him. Slamming the freezer door, he stormed over to the back door and flung it open.

  Fuck! His night just got worse.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” he said.

  The unwanted guest grinned and gave him his best megawatt smile. “What? I can’t stop by and see my big brother?”

  “Damn it, Matthew, you’re supposed to be in Haiti.”

  “I was. Now I’m here. Mikie said you would be here. So what ya doin’?” Matthew asked and walked in as if he owned the place. “Damn, Mase, don’t you own a mop?”

  A smile appeared on his brother’s face, and Mason watched as, like all the times before, he was forgotten about, because his team preferred his brothers to him.

  “Well hello, stranger!” Matthew smiled, shaking Rich’s hand. “What are you doing in town?” he asked.

  “Just thought we would all come for a visit.”

  “Good. It’s been a long time,” Matthew said, shaking hands with the rest of his team as they all filtered into the ever-crowded kitchen.

  Mason hung his head and closed the door. He spotted Gunny raiding the fridge and yelled, “Put that beer back!”

  “Okay, Cap. You don’t have to shout.” Gunny grinned, walking into the living room.

  Mason looked around and noticed his brother was missing. “Where’d Matthew go?”

  “He went thataway,” Rich said, pointing toward his bedroom.

  Mason had done everything in his power to keep everyone out of his bedroom. That was his domain, and he didn’t want anyone in there. It was his sanctuary, his private space, and the only room that held a picture of her. Before he could stop his brother, Matthew walked out of the room drinking a beer and carrying the little framed photo of Annabelle from the fishing trip. She didn’t know he had taken the picture, and he planned to keep it that way. All he had to do now was get the photo back from his brother and make damn sure he never remembered seeing it.

  Matthew walked toward him grinning. “So, Mase, who’s the hottie in the bikini?”

  “Here we go,” Gunny and Bird said at the same time and sat on the couch to watch the fireworks.

  It was well known amongst his team that Mason and his brothers harbored every ill will and extreme devious attention when it came to any brother who dared date or see a woman. Oh, the women were lovely and sweet as pie, but for the brothers, it was the thought of one brother upping the other. None of the brothers were allowed to go unscathed, to systematically court, date, or marry any woman without them being ridiculed, tortured, or humiliated. It was a rite of passage, and from the looks of things, it was Mason’s turn on the chopping block.

  It had started with Matthew when he had moved from Illinois to Cedar Creek to help a woman by the name of Rachael Mason. All the brothers had tried their best to weasel the cantankerous woman away from Michael, but his brother had won out. He and Rachael had been married for close to six years now with two little ones.

  Then there was Mark, the football player of the family. Nobody ever expected the playboy of the football field to fall head over heels in love with an honest-to-God angel. However, when Mark had spotted Sarah Mitchell, well, he damn near threw his football career away for her.

  Mason had hoped to keep his relationship or whatever it was that he and Annabelle had between Mikie and Mark, but that was damn near impossible with them gossiping as if they were at a church social. Add in Rachael and Sarah, and well, Mason wasn’t surprised to see Matthew. However, when Mitch showed, then he would worry. Until then, he was just going to go with the flow.

  Basically, he was going to deflect and redirect.

  “None of your business, and give me that,” Mason shouted, snatching the photo out of his hand. Mason turned and headed back into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and grabbed a beer for himself.

  “Uh…Cap?” Gunny and Rich both smiled like little children, pleading for more.

  * * * *

  Matthew watched Mason.

  Something was off with his brooding, closed-off, big bear of a brother.

  That was one of the reasons he had headed home, because Mikie had called him. They were worried about him. Apparently, Mason had started taking his need for isolation to the extreme lately. When Michael told him that he hadn’t seen or heard from Mason in over a week, well, he hopped the first flight home, and boy was he glad he had. There was nothing wrong with big brother, just another Armstrong being his stubborn self. Moreover, to make matters more intriguing, Mason had found a woman, and like every Armstrong before him, he was fumbling.

  Mason rolled his eyes, and Matthew watched as he grabbed two more beers and threw them at his friends. His big brother was trying to be nonchalant about the whole thing, but Matthew knew Mason. He knew him more than he preferred to. Big brother was trying to draw attention away from himself.

  “Well, Mason,” Matthew started, as he leaned against the doorjamb. “As I still have all my faculties, and since I am the doctor of the family, I can clearly say that is a woman. Since we don’t have any sisters that I’m aware of, I’m left with only one other option. She is a single, unattached hottie, in desperate need of some male attention. Now, if you don’t come clean, I will just call Mikie, and he will tell me where she lives. Then I can introduce myself, because damn, she is one fine-looking woman.”

  “I know!” Mason growled.

  “You know what? She’s a hottie or where she lives?”

  “Stay away from her, Matthew.” Mason leered at him.

  “I didn’t see a ring on her finger. Do you see a ring, Fish?” Matthew asked, moving deeper into the kitchen. Grabbing the photo off the counter, he looked at it again and showed Fish.

  Fish took a long swig of beer, and grinned. “Nope, no rings on her pretty little hand.”

  “She’s not married,” Mason fumed.

  “Fish, would you concur that this hottie is single?”

  “I would concur, Matthew.”

  “Would you also concur, that a single female has the right to choose whom she would rather see?”

  “I would concur again, Matthew.”

  “Glad to hear it! I think I am looking at the next Mrs. Matthew Armstrong,” he said, licking his lips. Matthew knew he was pushing his brother to the brink. Of course, it never took Mason very long to lose it. His temper always did have a short fuse, but Matthew sure did like goading him.

  That was until his brother’s fist connected with his face.

  “Fuck, Mase! That hurt!”

  “You stay the fuck away from Annabelle!”

  And with that, Matthew watched as Mason stormed out of his house.

  “Damn, that was easy.” Grabbing a dishtowel, he held it to his bloody nose.

  “So, who hid his Jim Beam bottle, ’cause beer ain’t gonna kill this pain!”

  * * * *

  Mason was going to kill his brother. He was going to cut him up into little pieces and use him for bait on his next fishing trip. Of course, he knew he wouldn’t catch a damn thing, because no fish would want a conniving, sarcastic fucker to nibble on. Nope, he was just going to have to dump his body in the gulf and pray sharks ripped and gnawed on his carcass.

  He didn’t need this shit. He had eno
ugh to worry about already. He did not need Matthew showing up because Mikie had a big fucking mouth.

  Fuck!

  Fuck!

  Fuck!

  With Matthew back in town, it wouldn’t be long before Marcus and Mitchell showed up. God, he hoped Mitch left Bridget at home. He liked the woman, but damn was she a pistol when her back was against the wall, and nobody was better at getting her hackles up than her own husband. Mason didn’t know why Mitch had married the woman. He never seemed to care about them once the chase was over, but for some stupid reason his idiot brother had married Bridget Person.

  Person!

  The woman wouldn’t even change her fucking name, for Christ’s sake! She kept saying over and over, “Why should I take the name of an idiot, when I don’t even like him?”

  Now, he liked Rachael. That woman had gumption, and Sarah, well, she was a sweetheart, until you managed to get on her radar, and then she was just plain annoying. However, he kept his opinions to himself. He would live longer being silent.

  Stomping through the woods, he didn’t give a damn about the noise or where he was going. For the first time in his life, he just didn’t give a shit anymore. His quiet life was turning into a clusterfuck.

  Too much drama and not enough peace and quiet. Was it too much to ask for everyone to leave him alone? He was too old for all of this shit, and he was definitely too old for Annabelle. She needed someone younger, someone she could grow old with, not someone she would be burying in twenty years! Yep, age had caught up with Mason like an out-of-control freight train, and it was barreling toward him fast. Caught, he had no place to run. All he could do was just accept the inevitable and move on.

  Therefore, he wasn’t really shocked when he stood on her back porch, banging on her back door. He never was one to listen to his inner intuition.

  The back light flickered on. The door opened, and there she stood.

  Damn, she didn’t lock the fucking door!

  “You need to lock the door at night. Crazy people live around here.”

  “Does that mean you, too?”