Badass - The Complete Series: A Billionaire Military Romance

by Leslie Johnson

  The man looks down at a notepad. “Private Duffy has broken thirteen rules, Drill Sergeant. One count of sitting without permission. Two counts of addressing Drill Sergeant without permission. Ten counts of not calling Drill Sergeant by his correct name.”

  What? No fucking way. I raise my hand and open my mouth to disagree.

  “Fourteen, Drill Sergeant.”

  “Wait a minute,” I finally say.

  “Fifteen, Drill Sergeant.”

  “But—”

  “Sixteen, Drill Sergeant.”

  Fuck. I snap my mouth closed and look straight ahead.

  Boner paces and I feel a bead of sweat trickle down my spine. He turns and addresses the class. His voice is conversational again. “See? I told ya that rich people think they’re special. Private Lincoln Charles Frederickson Duffy here thinks he’s so special that he can break sixteen of the rules I hold near and dear to my heart in less than five minutes. What’s going to happen in an hour? A day? Might as well throw my precious rule book in the trash, burn it, and stomp the ashes into the ground.”

  He paces. His boots click click clicking in the silent room. I don’t even hear anyone breathing. He stops and turns to the group again, his back to me. “Now, I can’t let that happen. I love my rule book. Rules are necessary. Needed. A world without rules is a world in chaos. It’s a world where people drink, do drugs, jump off cliffs, and people get killed…”

  He turns to me and I swallow. He’s known who I am all along. He set me up. Made an example out of me. I grind my teeth together so hard they almost break.

  “We don’t want that, do we?”

  A few of the men say, “No, Drill Sergeant.”

  Boner gets loud. “I said, we don’t want that, do we?”

  More men shout, “No, Drill Sergeant.”

  Boner goes crazy. Shouting. Screaming. Kicking the air. “When I ask you maggots a question, you will answer me. Is that clear?”

  The entire room shouts, “Yes, Drill Sergeant.” My voice is the loudest.

  “The question still on the table is: we don’t want our precious rules broken, do we?”

  “No, Drill Sergeant!”

  “We love structure and abhor chaos, don’t we?”

  “Yes, Drill Sergeant!”

  “And when one asshole breaks a rule, the entire unit breaks a rule, isn’t that right?”

  “Yes, Drill Sergeant!”

  Wait … what? Oh fuck. This isn’t going to be good.

  Boner claps his hands together. “So glad we agree.” He turns to me, steps close, his voice conversational again. I think I like the shouting Boner better. “We’ve established that Private Lincoln Charles Frederickson Duffy broke sixteen rules. And we’ve established that if one fuckwad breaks a rule, you all break a rule.” He smiles at me and steps back.

  “On behalf of Private Lincoln Charles Frederickson Duffy, every man is punished. Drop and give me one hundred and sixty.”

  A few men drop. Others crouch, unsure. Others, like me, stand there like they’re made of stone.

  “You heard me!” He goes ballistic again. “Drop and give me one hundred and sixty push-ups. Ten for each rule Private Lincoln Charles Frederickson Duffy broke.”

  I drop, cursing to myself, feeling the anger of every man leveled straight at me.

  “Stop!” Boner screams. “Did I give you burr headed idiots permission to begin?”

  “No, Drill Sergeant!”

  “We’re going to take this nice and slow.” Back to his conversational voice again. “You pussies can begin and count with me.”

  We dip.

  “One!”

  We dip again.

  “Two!”

  Shiny black shoes appear in front of me as I dip a third time.

  “Three!”

  Then I don’t see them anymore as something is pulled over my face and head.

  “Four!”

  My underwear. The bastard.

  “Five!”

  Day Zero of Army basic training is going to be a long ass day.

  “Six!”

  Chapter 6

  Nine weeks later…

  As I stuff my belongings into my duffel, I look around the barracks for almost the last time. We’d just had relative briefings, dinner and been fitted with our Class A uniforms for tomorrow’s graduation. Almost everyone else is with his or her families right now.

  Mine didn’t come, which is fine.

  Mostly.

  “There is nothing for us to celebrate, Lincoln,” Dad said over the phone a couple weeks ago. “You were expected to fulfill this part of your obligation and I’m glad you did. But I refuse to interrupt my schedule to fly into the middle of nowhere and watch you celebrate what is, in reality, the result of your foolishness.”

  I don’t call home often, but I’d wanted to invite them. I thought Dad might even be proud. After a very rocky start, I’d done well. Very well. Better than anyone could have expected. Especially me.

  The first three weeks—Red Phase—had been absolute hell on a molten hot stick that had been stuck up our asses and turned repeatedly. It was exhausting in every sense of the word. Many times, death would have been welcomed.

  With little sleep and little to eat, I’d been forced beyond the edge of my endurance. I thought. Just when I was sure I couldn’t take another step, I did. Then another one, and another. Sometimes carrying one of my comrades with me.

  We practiced hand-to-hand combat and were assigned missions we couldn’t win. All with the goal of breaking us from our ego, our individuality. In the Army, you are not an individual. You’re a team. As I learned on that first day, you fail or succeed with your brothers beside you.

  And we failed. Holy hell did we fail. Badly, and many times. But we learned from our mistakes. Failure brought us learned knowledge. We got better. And better. And better.

  There were parts of Red Phase that I loved. The combat fighting increased my confidence. I no longer had an offensive line to watch my back; this was on me. I used my hands. My feet. I fought until I won. I got good at it. Very good.

  I fucking loved Victory Tower and the Teamwork Development Course. The climbing. The rope ladders. The bridges. Rappelling. Everything we did there was right up my alley. I was even chosen as team leader a few times.

  The second three weeks—White Phase—was supposed to be easier. Looking back, it was and it wasn’t. It was still physically challenging as hell, but we were introduced to weapons and the drill sergeants trusted us a bit more. The spittle-in-the-face moments became far and fewer in between.

  We spent a lot of time with our weapon, becoming intimately familiar with everything about it. Even to the point where we were encouraged to give our weapon a name. They told us that naming it would inspire us when all hope felt lost. I named my gun Anna. Because when I wanted to quit, I’d remember. I’d see her face … screaming … falling. And I knew I’d have to be better. Hold on tighter. Never let go again.

  When we moved into the last three weeks—Blue Phase—I thought I had it all figured out. I was wrong. They don’t call this ‘Warrior Phase’ for nothing.

  The training was rigorous. The PT exams intense. Once past those, we underwent nighttime combat operations and operations in urban terrain.

  During these exercises, there was little sleep and no real food to speak of. We existed off of MREs, meals ready to eat, that weren’t as horrible as I’d thought they’d be. Who gave a shit about taste when you were starving and your blood sugar was in your toenails.

  During this phase, they threw everything at us. Nothing was ever the same. The challenges were complicated and always different. We had to adapt and think on our feet. We had to demonstrate extreme aggression. We had to be fearless. But we also had to be smart and use common sense, especially if we wanted to move on to AIT, which ... to my surprise ... I did.

  The barracks door clangs open and I snap to attention, an automatic response now. Sometimes I feel like Pavlov’s dog. If a door opens,
I’m on my feet. If there’s a question in the air, I’m opening my mouth to answer it. I even sweat on cue now. Piss on cue now. Shit only with permission.

  And I’m okay with that.

  Fucking okay with that.

  I know. I can’t believe it either.

  “At ease, Private Duffy.” I assume the position that has become as natural as taking a breath.

  Drill Sergeant Boner is standing in front of me. This time he’s not screaming. He’s smiling.

  “Heard rumors you were in here alone. Just wanted to stop by and congratulate you.” He holds out his hand and I take it, the damn back of my eyes burning a little. I let go and he smiles again. “For a rich little prick, you did very well. At least after you got with the program. I was sure you were going to call your daddy and have him pull strings to get you out of here.”

  I laugh. “Yeah. I would have put money on that too, Drill Sergeant.”

  “But you stuck with it. I’m proud of you.”

  In here, I’m not used to looking people in the eye, but I take a chance and glance at him. “Drill Sergeant, I’m sorry for being a problem in the beginning. I have to admit, I learned a lot from you … and my fellow recruits.”

  Did I really say that?

  He puts his finger in my chest and gives me a little push. “You got this far because you grew up just a little. You didn’t have mommy and daddy to help you. I know in the back of your mind you figured you could call them, but let me tell you. You did this by yourself.”

  That felt good. “Thank you, Drill Sergeant.”

  “Well, Duffy, I didn’t just come by here to blubber accolades. I have some good news for you. It’s official. You ended up being first in your class. I wanted to tell you myself and let you know you get first choice for your next billet. Do you have any ideas on what you want to do?”

  I look at him again, startled. “Are you saying I have a choice?” I honestly hadn’t thought that far ahead.

  He laughs at that. “Are you saying that we here in the Army are hard asses? That we can’t compromise?”

  I can’t stop the slight lift of my lips. “Never, Drill Sergeant. I’d never think that.”

  He turns and walks away. I stand there, remaining at ease, wondering if I’d pissed him off with my sarcasm. Shit.

  He gets to the door and turns. “Come on, recruit. Follow me.” He opens the door and I double-time it to catch up.

  It’s loud outside, especially after the relative quiet from inside. I follow the older man to the end of the building. As I turn the corner, I see a big ass Chinook helicopter landing on the large vacant field—the killing fields as we called it. It’s where we did calisthenics, often in the mud, until we puked. I can see a couple of other recruits from my class there as well. The smell of exhaust gets stronger as we get closer to the rotating rotors that are slowing down.

  Boner stops about fifty yards away, gazing out at the field and the other copters covering in the distance. “Duffy, I think you’d make a great special ops guy,” he says, and I have to move closer to hear him. “You didn’t choose a rating when you enlisted, and I’m sure you weren’t even thinking about it. Rumor has it, you like to jump out of things.”

  Against my will. Against all the discipline I’ve developed, my mind races back to that fucked up day. Jumping. Anna jumping too. Her falling. Watching her face contort in terror. Reaching for her. Not being able to hold on.

  I blink and focus on a different copter—an Apache maybe—coming in the distance. Then I nod. “Yes, I do, Drill Sergeant.”

  He takes a cigarette out of his pocket and lights it up. The smoke blows in my face. God, I hate cigarettes. “All these other guys have known they wanted to be Army Rangers for a long time. Most want to get into the Green Berets, or even Delta Force. I’m offering you a chance to join them.”

  Fuck it. The back of my eyes burn again. Damn smoke.

  “I don’t know what to say. I kinda figured I’d be a scrub for the next four years.”

  Boner laughs so hard he coughs. “Don’t lie to me. You kinda figured you’d be sitting behind a desk pushing papers for the next four years. Just like Daddy wanted you to.”

  I feel my face grow hot. Isn’t that the same thing as a scrub?

  “I’d like to learn more about this opportunity, Drill Sergeant,” I say to change the subject.

  He turns and looks at me, taking another drag on his cig. “Duffy, this isn’t going to be a ride in one of your daddy’s corporate helos. This is about you getting in those,” he points at the Chinook, “and going up there,” he points to the sky, “and jumping out into all sorts of dangerous situations and cleaning shit up.” He pauses. “If you have the guts.”

  Goosebumps rise on my arms and legs. My heart squeezes hard in my chest.

  He goes on, “Or you can go sit at your desk and push paper. All the predictable stuff that won’t scare you.”

  I stiffen.

  I imagine.

  A desk. A computer. Running paper here and there. Attending meetings. Corporate CEO. Corporate jets. Corporate bullshit in a three-piece suit.

  Living the life I’d been born to live.

  I feel my balls shriveling up just thinking about it.

  As I watch men jump out of the helo—moving with purpose; moving as a team—I make my decision. “Drill Sergeant, I’m ready to jump.”

  Chapter 7

  My eyes snap open just moments before trumpets blare the wake up song I’ve grown to love to hate. I was dreaming about Anna again. I was holding onto her wrist again. I was preparing for the chute to open, gripping her so tight my hand hurt with the effort.

  But it didn’t matter. Nothing I did. Nothing I could do changed the ending. She always fell. I always watched her crash onto those rocks.

  A fist connects with my upper arm. “Better get moving. Graduation day.”

  It’s Darren, my best friend and all around nice guy. He’s smiling from ear to ear.

  I grab my towel, my bar of soap and a fresh pair of underwear—Fruit of the Looms—and head toward the communal shower.

  “How many of your crew showed up last night?” I ask him as I shampoo my one-inch long hair.

  “Five. Mom and Dad, both sisters and Julie.” His grin grows bigger. “Damn, she looked good.”

  “Can’t wait to meet them.” I waggle my eyebrows. “Especially Julie.”

  He scowls at me. “Keep your paws off my girl.”

  “You sure you don’t want to stay the weekend with me. I’ve already rented a suite. We’ll call up a couple of girls, tell them to bring some friends. We could release ten weeks of frustration out on them.”

  I turn my back on everyone in the shower, realizing my taunt has backfired. The thought of having sex went straight to my dick. I have to give myself a minute before I can turn back around.

  “No way. Not missing my plane to Kansas with my girl.”

  “You sure? You don’t know what you’ll be missing.”

  He grins. “Maybe, but I think I can live with it.”

  I’m happy for him. Real happy. It’s good that he has someone to go home to.

  “Private Lincoln Charles Frederickson Duffy. Malibu, California.”

  I cringe as my full name is called over the intercom system, but I hold my head high and begin my walk across the stage. It’s the second stage I’ve walked across this year, but it’s the only time I’ve given a damn.

  How different would my life be right now if I’d put this much effort into senior year?

  As I take the first step, someone calls my name. They’re clapping and cheering too. I’m startled and look into the crowd.

  There she is—pretty as a picture…

  There she is—waving with a huge smile on her face…

  There she is—to my total and complete surprise. It’s Mattie.

  I almost fall down the steps.

  Refusing to embarrass Sergeant Boner, I keep my shit together and don’t leap in her direction. I make eye con
tact with her and she blows me a little kiss. Then I make my way back to my seat and sit through the agony of the closing ceremonies.

  Mattie’s here. I’m tempted to turn around to double check that she’s really here. I don’t, but it’s absolutely tempting.

  The moment we’re dismissed, I’m turning, searching, trying to spot the yellow dress that stood out from all the rest. Then I see her, about twenty seconds before she sees me and I just watch her. Watch how she pushes her hair behind her ear. How she presses her lips together in anxiety. Then her eyes meet mine, her face relaxes and she smiles.

  So beautiful.

  She meets me halfway and she suddenly seems unsure. She gives me an awkward hug and then a warmer one.

  “Why are you here?” Shit. That didn’t come out right.

  She blinks and looks up at me, her blue eyes competing with the sky. “I wanted to see you. Surprise you. I hope that’s alright.”

  Was it? Yes. “It’s very alright.”

  She seems to relax and I pull her to my chest and sink my nose into her hair. It smells the same as I remember. I wonder if she tastes the same. Feels the same. Moves the same.

  I hope I get to find out.

  “We did it!”

  A hand clamps on my shoulder and I don’t need two guesses to know who it is. Darren. I let go of Mattie and turn for a chest bump and bro hug. Then, I’m being introduced to his family and girlfriend.

  Right away, I understand why he wouldn’t cheat on her. Darren has a little hottie on his hands. More than that, she’s Kansas sweet. Polite. Engaging.

  Grabbing Mattie’s hand, I pull her close to me. “Mattie, this asswipe is my best friend, Darren Worlock. Darren, meet Mattie.”

  He looks from me to her and back. His brows narrow. “I didn’t think any—”

  “They don’t pay you to think,” I interrupt with a ‘what the hell, man’ glare. I don’t need anyone to remind me that my graduation didn’t fit in the family schedule.

  “Link, it’s so nice to meet you. Darren has told me so much about you.” Like an angel from heaven, Darren’s mom swoops down and saves me.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Worlock. You have a terrific son. It’s been awesome training with him.”