by Jason Brant
“Do you ever... talk to anyone about it?” She turned and looked at me with a nakedness that took me off guard. It was a rarity that Nami exposed herself as anything but a cynical smart ass. She kept her feelings at arm’s length, hidden behind her sharp wit. “About the things you’ve seen?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Maybe Drew if I’ve had a bit too much to drink. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. I’m a moron, so you should probably do the exact opposite of me.”
Her eyes dulled, gaze growing distant. “I keep seeing that woman trying to plant a severed head in her flowerbed. No matter what I do, I can’t stop thinking about it.”
I wanted to tell her about my battles with Sammy. She wasn’t alone in her struggles to cope with what we’d gone through. But I couldn’t. I feared the consequences of letting even Drew know about the new occupant in my head.
“I’m sorry,” I finally said.
Nami’s eyes focused again. “For what?”
“Getting you involved in all of this craziness. You should be at home watching weird-ass Japanese game shows.”
“Did you attack the forensic building I worked in?” Nami asked. “Did you make my coworkers kill themselves?”
“Well, no. But—”
“If ifs and buts were candies and nuts, we’d all have a merry Christmas.”
I blinked. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means shut up. We’re in this together, much to my dismay, and the only person left to blame is Smith since we already laid Murdock down for a nice dirt nap.” Nami turned toward her monitors. “Anyway, I’m glad to hear that the lag in the decryption system is fixed. They’re already deploying the new chips into cell towers. The entire network should be secured in just a few weeks.”
I considered pressing her more about the emotions she struggled with, but I decided against it. You couldn’t make someone open up if they weren’t ready. Besides, talking to me about it might make things worse.
When I got involved with something, it inevitably went downhill.
“When are they going to announce it to the public?” I asked instead.
“No idea. Hopefully soon so people will calm down.”
The new system was supposed to guard against Smith pulling another job with his monstrosity of a weapon. We could only hope that it would do as advertised. Smith was a smart bastard who always seemed to be a step ahead of us.
The whoop of an approaching helicopter cut our conversation short.
Nami turned toward another array of monitors mounted to the wall behind me. “Drew’s back. Hopefully, he got that tough chick to agree to work with us. I need some more estrogen around here. All of this testosterone is making my skin break out.”
I swiveled around in my chair and watched the monitors.
The screens were connected to a series of security cameras around the building. Most of them showed closed doors and empty hallways. Several were pointed at the chain-link fence surrounding our compound.
The monitor in the upper right hand corner of the array had the helipad on the roof in view. We sat and watched as the chopper eased down until it landed on the white H painted in the middle.
I felt the presence of Drew’s mind, and that of the pilot, Jack Shea.
And they had a woman with them. An excited, confused, and resolute Bree Manning.
“They do,” I said. “That means it’s finally time to get the team together.”
Nami pumped a small fist in the air. “Avengers, assemble!”
I’d started to stand, but stopped in a partial crouch. “What?”
“Good gods, man. You need to get out more.”
8 – Whirlwind
Cool air washed over Bree’s face as Detective Lloyd slid the door of the helicopter open. He hopped out and jogged, bent over, across the roof of the building they’d just landed on.
Bree followed him, her hair blowing wildly under the slowing blades of the chopper.
Lloyd stopped in front of a metal door. He swiped a card-key in front of a reader. The door popped open several inches.
The drone of the helicopter died down as they stepped inside. They stood on a small landing at the top of a dark staircase. Bree had looked over the building as they approached. It was five stories high and nondescript. Other than the helipad on the top, it appeared physically similar to a lot of the others they’d flown over on the base.
The newer ones, anyway. Farther inland, Bree had seen a lot of older, decrepit structures that appeared to be abandoned.
“Where are we?” Bree asked.
Lloyd started down the stairs. “Aberdeen Proving Ground.”
“The military base?”
“It’s a post actually.”
“What’s the difference?” Bree followed him down the stairs. The walls were plain cinderblock. Nothing clued her in to what kind of facility they were in.
“The Air Force uses bases. The Army uses posts.” Drew paused, head cocking to the side. “I think. I never had much interaction with the Chair Force, so I could be completely making that up.”
“The Chair Force? Do I sense a little bitterness?”
“Damn right. Everything in the Air Force is nicer. My dumbass signed up with the wrong branch when I went Army. At least we were tougher.”
Bree couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on or why I’m here yet, Detective?”
“Soon. And call me Drew.”
They stopped at the next floor and entered through a closed door. After walking down a hallway, Drew stopped in front of another door. He gestured toward it.
“Wait in here. We’ll be meeting with you and the others soon, and then we’ll answer all of your questions.”
Bree paused. What was she doing? She didn’t know who or what was in there. Wasn’t sure what they wanted her to do or why they wanted her to do it. She stared at the door handle. Something about that moment made it feel like the point of no return.
She still didn’t know anything of any real importance. If she turned back now, she might be able to return to her semi-normal life.
Back to what? she thought. I probably lost everything when I shot that man.
She doubted that her position with SWAT was secure, even if the investigation into her actions cleared her name. No one liked a woman taking up the spot a bigger and faster man could have on the team. They would likely use her current situation as an excuse to replace her. And then what? Writing parking tickets? Arresting drunks?
Bree hadn’t signed up for that.
She grabbed the handle and opened the door.
Stepped inside.
Three men sat in the room, all facing the door.
They gaped at her.
She stared back.
“Good luck.” Drew closed the door behind her.
A handful of empty folding chairs were scattered around the small room. There were no windows. A large mirror stretched across part of the wall to her left. Bree had seen several of those in her day—all of them in interrogation rooms.
The fluorescent lights in the ceiling were much brighter than those in the hall, forcing her to squint as her eyes adjusted.
The man on the left nodded at her. “Howdy.”
A thick, brown beard covered his face and neck. The bottom of it almost touched his barrel of a chest. His shoulders, arms, and torso were all thick. His hands rested in his lap, meaty, wide fingers interlaced. The hair on his head was cropped short.
“Hi.” Bree nodded at all three of them.
“Briggs,” the thick man said, a rumbly Texas drawl matching his stocky frame. “Frank Briggs.” He stood and walked over to her, extending his hand.
“Bree Manning.” She took it, felt his palm and fingers envelope hers. Bree prided herself on her shake, knowing how important it was to make a good impression with men like this. Her strength surprised most people and made them squeeze her back to compensate.
Not Briggs. He could have crushed her hand with
ease if he wanted.
“Nice grip.” He released her hand and went back to his seat.
Bree grabbed a chair on the opposite side of the room and sat down, facing their direction.
They kept staring at her.
Briggs finally gestured to the man beside him. “This is Billy Huxx.”
Huxx gave her a slight nod. He was taller and lankier than Briggs. His limbs were longer, his face leaner. Gray peppered the hair at his temples. He also had a beard, though he kept it short and neat. Sweat covered his flushed skin as if he’d just come in from a run.
His blue eyes watched Bree closely. They had an intensity that she’d seen in other men before.
If she had to guess, he was some kind of Special Forces hard ass.
Same as Briggs.
“And that’s Nick Tate,” Briggs said, pointing at the man on the far right.
Tate didn’t look at Bree—he scowled at her. He didn’t have a beard like the others, but he also kept his hair short. Crow’s feet creased the corners of his eyes. Lines ran across his forehead. The others had unusually dark tans, especially since fall had arrived a few weeks ago, but Tate was an entire shade darker.
His skin had a weathered, been-around-the-block quality to it. He looked like an old, leather shoe to Bree.
She nodded at all of them. “Nice to meet you.”
“You bringing us lunch?” Tate growled. His voice had a scratchy quality, as if he’d gargled with sandpaper earlier in the day.
“Excuse me?”
“Did I stutter?”
Bree stiffened. “You got a problem, old man?”
“Yeah, you.” Tate sat up in his chair, glowering at her. “I got a big goddamn problem if you’re here for the same reason we are.”
Briggs rolled his eyes, sighed. “Calm down, Tate.”
“To hell with that.” Tate pointed at Briggs. “You damn well know what I’m talking about.”
Frustration made Bree’s hands bunch into fists. She’d dealt with that kind of nonsense ever since she’d joined the force. Seeing as how she’d actually been recruited to be a part of whatever in the hell this was, she hadn’t expected the same type of treatment.
She wanted to punch his smug face in.
Bree shrugged instead. “I don’t know why I’m here.”
“If they put you in this room, it’s to be with us.” Tate turned back to her. “And I’m not dragging some woman around ‘cause she can’t keep up when things get real.”
“I can keep up with any man.” Bree returned his glare, refusing to blink.
Giving any kind of concession to a jackass like that would only lead to more grief for her.
Tate scoffed. “You couldn’t even do a combat tour with the regular Army, let alone us.”
Forcing herself to remain calm, or as calm as she could while being insulted by an asshole, Bree focused her attention on Briggs. “What did you do? Why are you here?”
“They haven’t told any of us exactly why we’re here, just that we’re going to do some heavy shit.” Briggs took a deep breath, his thick chest rising several inches. “I’m a Ranger. Did three tours, two cut short by wounds.”
“Wounds?” Bree was surprised to hear he’d been sent home from war twice. Usually, they didn’t do that if you weren’t seriously injured.
Briggs tapped his right thigh. “Caught a round in the leg. Healed up good, no big deal.” He pointed to the left side of his chest. “Took a knife between my ribs right here. Hard to breathe and fight with a punctured lung.”
“Jesus.” Bree had spent time with some tough men in her day, but Briggs raised the bar.
Briggs lifted his hands, palms up, as if to say no big deal. “Been out of the game for going on two years now. Until that bald guy came calling, anyway.” He cocked a thumb at Huxx. “Since my two compadres here aren’t in the best of moods, I’ll speak for ‘em.”
Sweat beaded on Huxx’s forehead, although he never wiped at it. He just kept watching Bree while Briggs continued.
“Ol’ Billy here is a former Seal. Lots of search and rescue missions. Ain’t that right, big guy?”
Huxx finally said, “One or two.”
“Eloquent as always. I keep trying to get him to stop all that damn running and join me in the weight room, but he ain’t listening yet. We gotta get rid of those chicken legs, Billy.” Briggs grinned at Tate. “And the nicest man in all the land down there was Delta Force.”
If Tate hadn’t acted like such a jackass from the moment Bree had stepped in the room, she would have whistled in appreciation. She’d never met anyone from the legendary Delta Force before. In fact, she’d heard they didn’t even really exist in the way the general public thought.
A bunch of rumors surrounded the outfit, and no one seemed to be able to confirm or deny most of them. They supposedly recruited their members from the best-of-the-best of the other Special Forces groups.
“And that’s why you can’t keep up with us,” Tate growled. “While you were sucking dick in college, I was assassinating Al Qaeda leaders in Afghani caves.”
“Listen up, asshole. All I did was walk in the room and sit down.” Bree smirked at Tate. “If you want to get embarrassed in front of your friends, come on into my wheelhouse.”
Tate’s face tightened, eyes narrowed. “Say that again and maybe I will.”
“Come on, man.” Briggs shook his head. “Just leave her—”
“Shut up, Frank. I’m not talking to you.”
Bree moved her right hand closer to her waist, anticipating a move from Tate.
He was itching for a fight from the moment she’d walked in.
She was prepared to give him one.
9 – Alpha of Alphas
Nami followed me into the dim room, her breathing slightly labored.
“You should join me in the gym and get yourself in a little better shape.” I closed the door behind us, and it grew even darker.
“Eat... a... dick.” Nami huffed. “Round... is a fine... shape.”
“Never know when we’re gonna be in trouble again and you’ll have to run out of here with your hair on fire. A few people want us dead, you know?”
Nami stood in front of a large, one-sided mirror that showed us the next room. “I’ll jump on your back and ride you out of here like the horse you are.”
The voices coming from the next room got louder and angrier, cutting us off. We listened to the argument coming in from the speakers.
Through the glass, we watched as Frank Briggs, Billy Huxx, Nick Tate, and Bree Manning got to know each other.
Briggs did all the introducing. The man sure liked to talk. Whatever gift of gab he had, he must have stolen from Tate and Huxx because they didn’t say much. Unless they were pissed off. Judging from the scowl on Tate’s face and the anger baking off his mind in pulses, I’d say that he passed pissed off a few miles back.
Manning sat across from them, her shoulders tense.
She was less than pleased as well.
“Why is he sweating like a virgin on prom night?” Nami pointed at Huxx.
“He was running when we called him in. What’s with all the sex jokes today?”
“They’re fun and sexy. Like me. Guess you won’t be the smelliest dude around anymore.” Nami nudged me with her elbow. “Thanks for washing the stank off your ass before coming to my office. I like you a little better this way. Hashtag—little.”
Coming from Nami, that was a compliment. I’d opened my mouth to ask what the hell hashtag meant, when the door behind us opened.
Drew walked in.
Even though he must have rolled out of bed at ass o’clock in the morning, he still wore a nice suit and tie and his head was freshly shaved.
“Looking spiffy, Drewseph.” I looked back to Bree Manning. “I’m guessing you didn’t have any issues getting her to come along since she’s already picking a fight with Tate.”
“She was as easy as the rest.” Drew stepped beside me, watched the group
of badasses through the mirror. “They all want to kill the terrorist behind Arthur’s Creek.” He leaned toward me, sniffed. “Congrats on showering two days in a row. You’re almost an adult at this point.”
Nami and Drew high-fived each other.
“Aren’t the two of you just hilarious this morning?” I watched Tate get more agitated by the second as he argued with Manning. “Where’s Nelson? Shouldn’t the boss man be here?”
“No idea.” Drew shook his head. “I got a text that he would be late, but that’s it. I’ve been out of the loop all morning because of her.”
“We got this,” Nami said. “I’ll whip them into shape.”
“I think Bree is going to do it for you.”
“Hell yeah. Girl power.”
“You didn’t search her, did you, Drewseph?” I asked.
“Did I pat her down? No, but her clothing made it obvious she wasn’t armed. Why?”
“Watch her right hand. Get ready for a show.”
All three of us fell silent as we observed Tate and Manning eye each other like a couple of wild animals.
Manning’s hand slowly inched toward her waist.
Tate leaned forward in his chair, his face reddening.
Briggs tried to pacify Tate, but he wasn’t having any of it.
“Go for it, pussy,” Manning said. “You aren’t afraid of a girl, are you?”
Tate exploded to his feet and closed the distance between them in an instant.
“Shit!” Drew spun on his heel, heading for the door.
Without taking my eyes off the two of them in the other room, I grabbed Drew’s arm and held him back. “Just watch.”
Bree had managed to get out of her chair in time to confront the furious Tate, but his speed hadn’t allowed her to meet him halfway.
He stood mere inches from her, his face angled down as he seethed at her. “I’d mop the floor with you if you weren’t a woman.”
“That isn’t what’s stopping you.” Bree gave him a small, devilish grin.
“Oh yeah? Then what—”
That was the moment I was waiting for.
“This is what’s stopping you.” Bree tapped a small blade she held in her right hand against the inside of Tate’s thigh, just under his crotch.