SNOWED IN
Shannon Nemechek
SNOWED IN
Copyright © 2017 by Shannon Nemechek.
All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: October 2017
Limitless Publishing, LLC
Kailua, HI 96734
www.limitlesspublishing.com
Formatting: Limitless Publishing
ISBN-13: 978-1-64034-247-7
ISBN-10: 1-64034-247-8
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. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
To my best friend and the love of my life. You have supported me from the beginning and pushed me to follow my dreams. You showed me that second chances on love are totally possible. You are my muse each and every day and the reason I write every day. I love you with all my heart.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
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Prologue
The Bryants of Milwaukee, Wisconsin were famous for their wealth, their brewing skills, and the exploits of their oldest son—the infamous Andrew Bryant, Jr. Andrew was the heir apparent to the family business and fought the title every chance he got. He did anything he could by any means possible to avoid becoming his father so he did the opposite of what they wanted. His parents had always planned for Andrew Jr. to take over just as Andrew Sr. had from his father. His parents wanted to retire and enjoy their golden years once he graduated from college. Knowing the family business would be in their son’s capable hands and continue for generations to come gave them some peace of mind.
Andrew Jr. had plans of his own, his parents just didn’t know. Like his grandfather, he would join the Army and run as far away from the brewery and his family as possible. The problem would be leaving his younger sister Annabelle. In his mind he knew Annabelle would be ok; she was a Bryant, for God’s sake, a Bryant through and through. His heart, however, knew Annabelle was a strong-willed and intelligent girl with a mind of her own. But for Andrew Jr., leaving Annabelle to face their parents alone was not the easiest decision he would ever make, he just didn’t know it yet. When the day arrived, he had to be selfish and do what made him happy, not what made his parents happy.
Janice and Andrew Bryant Sr. had raised their children to be independent thinkers. The kids had a great childhood with everything they could want. They enjoyed many trips to Colorado, particularly Christmas trips to their cabin in the mountains. It was the only time the siblings would have their parents all to themselves. No one worked during the Christmas holiday.
Chapter 1
Andrew
Andrew Jr. cherished his childhood memories as he sat waiting for his friend, Sergeant First Class Jackson Tolliver, outside physical therapy at Womack Army Medical Center. Andrew and Jackson were stationed at Ft. Bragg, North Carolina; they were members of the elite Ninth Special Forces. Tolliver had been injured during an ambush in the mountains of the Takur Ghar region of Afghanistan, the same attack where two of their buddies had been captured and tortured.
That ambush was always on his mind, lately more than usual. Because of everything that recently happened on post, it appeared they would be re-visiting the ambush. A substantial investigation had been started after a series of thefts on post and a massive fire at a warehouse that belonged to the Ninth Special Forces. They would meet up with their old unit leader, Chief Warrant Officer 3 Raleigh Fitzgerald, and his associate Sergeant Samantha O’Hara for interviews.
Neither he nor Tolliver had seen Chief since he transferred to Alabama, so they both looked forward to seeing him, even if it was a criminal investigation that brought them together. Andrew had always admired Chief and knew if anyone could get to the bottom of what was going on, it would be him.
The rumor mill was running at full tilt since the fire, but no one knew what the real story was. Everyone had their own opinion of what was going on, but like they say—opinions are like assholes, everyone has one.
As Andrew sat pondering the many views held about what the investigation was looking for, his buddy Jackson emerged from Physical Therapy. “You ready to get the hell outta this place?” Jackson announced as he grabbed his backpack that sat in the seat next to Andrew.
“Yeah I am; we have to meet Chief in about twenty minutes over at the detention center. It's gonna be good seeing him after everything has gone to shit since he left,” Andrew complained.
“I hear ya, ain’t nuttin’ been the same since ole’ Chief left,” Jackson touted in his deep southern twang. “Wonder what he’s been up to?”
“I couldn’t say. I know Chief went to Alabama to work with General Winfield, his old high school buddy. At least that’s what I heard,” Andrew stated as he unlocked the doors on his Jeep.
“We’ll find out soon enough. We got 10 minutes to get over there to meet with him,” Jackson said as he slid into the passenger seat.
***
Pulling into the parking lot of the detention center, Andrew maneuvered his Jeep around the swarms of reporters and satellite trucks, ultimately coming to a stop in a spot next to the side entrance of the building. Raleigh watched through the small window of the heavy metal door of the detention center, easily catching a glimpse of the red Jeep Cherokee.
Jackson was the first to see Chief and flashed him a flimsy salute as Andrew pulled into the parking spot. The two men got out with Jackson leading the way, Andrew not far behind. Raleigh swiftly flung open the door as the two men reached the doorway. Both men promptly offered a salute, shaking Raleigh’s hand as they exchanged backslaps and comedic digs.
Raleigh motioned for the men to follow him. “We are just gonna meet down here, knock out the formal stuff, then we can catch up. Sound like a plan?” Raleigh said as they made their way to a room just down the hallway.
Sam sat waiting in the room as the three men entered. She immediately stood up and rendered the greeting of the day, “Good afternoon, Chief.” Raleigh promptly responded with “At Ease” then guided the men to their seats.
“May I get anyone coffee?” asked Sam as she relaxed and walked over to the door to close it. The three men settled around the table as Raleigh sat across from Andrew and Jackson and pulled out his notepad.
“Since we gotta do this proper like, Sergeant Bryant, I’ll introduce you to Sergeant O’Hara, then she will take Sergeant Tolliver down the hallway to the other office while I question you,” Raleigh explained, waiting for Andrew to respond.
“Yeah, that’s fine with me, Chief.”
“Coffee?” Sam repeated—shaking each of the men’s hands as they were introduced.
“I would like one,” Andrew answered swiftly.
“Me too,” Jackson chimed in. “Can I get mine with couple scoops of sugar if it's not too much trouble?”
“No, it’s fine. I will be right back. Sergeant Tolliver, why don’t you come with me? That way Chief and Sergeant Bryant can get started.” Sam motioned toward the door.
“Oh yeah, great idea. Y’all have fun. I’ll be down the hallway,” Jackson said cynically as he followed Sam out the door, only to turn back, win
k, and flash a thumbs up at the two men while hanging his tongue out like a dog in heat.
Sam had no idea what was happening behind her, but from past experience, she had a good idea. Her hypothesis was confirmed when she heard a loud grunt come from behind her and the sound of some lightweight item striking the wall next to her. Turning around, Sam noticed Jackson was recovering from a bob and swerve to avoid being hit in the head by the pen Chief had flung at him. At the same time, Jackson was letting out a full belly laugh.
Shaking her head, she proceeded out the door. “I will be right back with the coffee, Chief. Sergeant, please follow me,” Sam repeated, waiting for Jackson to walk out the door before grabbing the door handle and closing it behind her.
Sam pointed down the hallway. “The waiting area is just down this hall, three doors to your right, Sergeant Tolliver. I will join you in a few. The coffee station is just there to your right, so I'm gonna grab coffee for Sergeant Bryant and Chief and run it back to them. Then you can give me all the gossip on Chief.” Sam smiled then giggled, wondering what stories SFC Tolliver had to tell about this mysterious man who had stolen her heart.
***
“I don’t know much, Chief, only rumors; you know how those get around!” Andrew explained. “I am just trying to stay off all the radar, but I hear things.”
Raleigh leaned back in his chair and breathed in deep. “Well, spill it. I didn’t figure you two would know too much, being as you been doing the hospital thing. How is Jackson doing anyway?”
“Well, Chief, physically I think he is golden. Recovery is going great, but the doctors said there are still a couple of years worth of physical therapy ahead of him. I don’t foresee him goin’ out on missions anytime soon,” Andrew said as he slumped into his chair. “Mentally, though, he is cashed out. I was thinking of giving him the cabin in Colorado for a couple of weeks so he can get away during the holiday.” Pulling his cell phone out, Andrew flipped through the pictures and placed the phone in front of Chief.
“Here’s the cabin. It's up in the mountains in Colorado; it’s one of my parents' homes, but they will be in Europe for Valentine’s. My sister Annabelle will be in Milwaukee at the brewery; I can’t get that girl to stop working. I will be in Cancun, and I tried to get him to come with, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He said he wanted to be alone with his thoughts. Pretty deep shit if you ask me, but you know Jackson.” Andrew laughed.
“Wait, what? A cabin in the mountains of Colorado? Are you some rich boy playing soldier, Bryant?” Raleigh said, smiling and waiting for Andrew’s response, which was quick and precise.
“Ya, Chief, and a fine fuck you too.” Andrew’s middle finger was promptly placed in front of Raleigh’s face. Raleigh’s laugh could be heard halfway down the hall.
“But yeah, Chief, I thought the cabin would be perfect for Jackson to go and relax and get away from everything. I got a guy up there right now cleaning and getting groceries. I figure after we are done here I would give Jackson the plane ticket as his birthday gift. My guy will have one of our cars there to pick him up, and he can take the car from there to the cabin.”
“He doesn’t have any thoughts of doing himself in, does he?” Raleigh questioned.
“Oh no, at least not that I know of. If I even thought there was a chance, I wouldn’t send Jackson up there alone,” Andrew answered. “I think he just needs to work some stuff out in his head. You know Chief, kinda like what you did when you left us here. You have been missed. Things went to shit since you left.”
Raleigh’s face grimaced at the thought of how he had left, but he had to do what was right for him at the time. “Yea, am sorry about that. I had a lot going on in my head, and after that whore of a fianceé I had got caught screwin’ everything that moved, I needed to get away. Since she was doing half the rear detachment squad, I couldn’t chance staying here and running into any of them.”
Andrew understood and nodded his head in approval. “I don’t blame ya, Chief. How’s your recovery coming along?” Raleigh was still recovering from a couple of gunshots to the leg and torso from the last deployment in which he and his buddy Jared Thompson had been captured and tortured. The wounds were still fresh in his mind, now more than ever since Jared was the main focus of this investigation.
“I’m good, still doing physical therapy myself, at least for a few more months, then I will be released back to full duty. Full duty means I’m coming back to y'all. So you best be ready!” Raleigh said with a grin.
Andrew smiled, and Raleigh started the formal interview questions. He needed to get these two interviews knocked out so he could get back to interrogate Jared Thompson again before the end of the evening. He had plans for Ms. Sam, and they didn’t include being stuck here the entire night.
***
“I will hit you up tomorrow, guys; I’m supposed to have plans tonight if we finish with our suspect in time,” Raleigh told the two men as they stood in the hall saying their goodbyes. “Now you know neither of you can talk about what we discussed. Do you understand?” Raleigh asked the men, staring at them with a stern narrow jaw and piercing eyes. Sam immediately noticed the way his eyes burned as he spoke to the men. It stirred something in her she hadn’t felt in a while, exciting her.
“Yes Chief, we understand, no shop talk, gotcha,” they both echoed in unison. We will see you soon, Chief.”
Chapter 2
Jackson
“Just drop me off in front of my apartment. I don’t really wanna hang out at the Twisted Kitty tonight. I am ready to crash, seriously,” Jackson mumbled at Andrew, who acknowledged his friend with a nod. He had to keep both eyes on the road; the traffic was unusually heavy for this time of day
“I wonder where the hell all these cars came from? Hell, it's done past the close of business—formation was at least an hour ago,” Andrew complained as they drove the few miles to Jackson’s apartment. As he drove, Andrew went back and forth in his brain on how to broach the subject of Jackson using his leave and going to Colorado instead of staying here in Fayetteville. Andrew being Andrew, he finally came right out with it.
“So, you have fourteen days of use or lose, and I thought I couldn’t give you any better birthday gift than fourteen beautifully quiet days and nights in the snowy Rocky Mountains of Colorado.” Pulling a ticket from the pocket on his uniform pants, Andrew handed it to Jackson. “Why don’t you go to my family's cabin? It’s quiet and secluded, and I have everything arranged. All you gotta do is show up. What do ya say?” Andrew handed Jackson the ticket and a credit card.
“What’s the credit card for?” Jackson asked.
“That’s just in case.”
“Just in case what?” Jackson snapped back.
“Just in case you run outta beer and need to make a beer run,” Andrew said as they pulled in front of Jackson’s apartment.
“Your plane leaves at nine o’clock in the morning. I’ll be here at seven to pick you up. Now go pack, brother. You got fourteen days to rest and to think about life. It’s my birthday gift to you,” Andrew said, smiling.
Jackson sat for a moment, pondering the thought of fourteen days of nothing but the mountains, snow, roaring fires, and beer.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” he said as he grabbed his backpack from Andrew’s back seat. “I’ll be ready. See ya in the morning, man, and thanks.” Jackson slammed the door of Andrew’s Jeep, trekked up the sidewalk to the apartment building, and through the door to his apartment, dragging his cane behind him.
***
Packing would be easy. He didn’t own a lot of civilian clothing. Most of his wardrobe consisted of t-shirts, jeans, and a couple of pairs of boots. He was a simple guy who didn’t need a lot of clothes or material things to keep him happy. His happiness came from great friends, brews, and playing pool on Saturday nights at the local dive bar back home. Jackson grew up outside Dalton, Georgia, at the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Dalton was known for its rich southern heritage and its many intact Civil
War artifacts as well as its vast carpet industry. For Jackson, home was an old cotton plantation that belonged to his great-great-great grandfather, now a ram-shackle house surrounded by cattle and chickens that sustained the family.
Jackson was what most saw as a stereotypical southern boy, not much for what was “IN” but more for what was sensible and what made him comfortable. He stood six feet two inches tall and weighed two hundred twenty pounds soaking wet. His hair was dark, and his skin was tan with a deeper olive tone that ran from just above his elbows to his hands. They were working arms for sure—Jackson proudly rocked the proverbial “farmer’s tan.”
Jackson was muscular, and the rough-cut impression of his biceps and pectoral muscles seemed to show through completely in the white t-shirt he wore on a daily basis. Some said he resembled country singer Tim McGraw, except Jackson had biceps that would equal two of Tim’s. In essence, Jackson Tolliver was more like a mix of Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson and Tim McGraw—a sort of Rock-McGraw. The men of the unit teased him and the nickname stuck, so they referred to him as McGraw. He hated the comparison but if it got him few free beers and hot loose women, Jackson was up for the comparison, as well as loving the challenge of chasing as many women as he could.
As he packed his bag, he went to the kitchen and grabbed a Bud Light from the fridge. Cracking the beer open, he plopped into his recliner and grabbed the remote for the television, scanning the channels for anything that would give the small apartment some background noise. He lived in the small studio alone; it was great because he didn’t want to talk and a roommate meant having to hold a conversation.
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