by Kris Norris
Text copyright ©2018 by the Author.
This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Twisted Page Inc.. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Brotherhood Protectors remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Twisted Page Inc., or their affiliates or licensors.
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A BROTHERHOOD PROTECTORS KW NOVEL
CARVED IN ICE
TABLE OF CONTENTS
OTHER BOOKS BY KRIS NORRIS
CARVED IN ICE
DEDICATION
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
Chapter Three
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
EXCERPT ~ MIDNIGHT RANGER
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
OTHER BOOKS BY KRIS NORRIS
SINGLES
Centerfold
Keeping Faith
My Soul to Keep
Ricochet
Rope’s End
SERIES
‘TIL DEATH
1 - Deadly Vision
2 - Deadly Obsession
3 - Deadly Deception
COLLATERAL DAMAGE
1 - Force of Nature
DARK PROPHECY
1 - Sacred Talisman
2 - Twice Bitten
3 - Blood of the Wolf
ELLE JAMES’ KW ~ BROTHERHOOD PROTECTORS
1-Midnight Ranger
ENCHANTED LOVERS
1 - Healing Hands
FROM GRACE
1 - Gabriel
2 – Michael
GRIZZLY ENCOUNTERS
1 – Iron Will
THRESHOLD
1 - Grave Measures
COLLECTIONS
Blue Collar Collection
Into the Spirit, Boxed Set
RE-RELEASING SOON
TOMBSTONE
1 - Marshal Law
2 – Forgotten
3 – Last Stand
WHAT REMAINS
1 - Untainted
2 - Wasteland
3 - Mutation
4 - Reckoning
A BROTHERHOOD PROTECTORS KW NOVEL
CARVED IN ICE
KRIS NORRIS
CARVED IN ICE
No sacrifice goes unpunished.
After fifteen years of as an Air Force PJ, Russel “Ice” Foster’s military career is in the crapper. With the equivalent of a scarlet letter hanging over his head, he’s trying to make the best of a bad situation. He’s survived firefights, MREs, and endless traumas. So, civilian life should be a walk in the park…
Except that he hasn’t been discharged twenty-four hours, and he’s already involved in a bar fight and driving a drunk girl home. He doesn’t know more than her first name, and Quinn makes it clear she intends to keep it that way.
He’s just trying to be a gentleman—ignoring the searing desire burning beneath his skin whenever he looks at her. He’s been trained to do hard things, and not taking her to bed? Right up there with his last HALO. But every good soldier has a plan, and he’s mapped out a strategy to get her back in his arms—where he has every intention of keeping her. He just didn’t expect her to bolt—or to discover she’s neck-deep in trouble. The kind that’s liable to get her killed
With the help of his new boss, Hank Patterson, and his company Brotherhood Protectors, Russel’s determined to find some answers. But the truth comes at a price, and if he fails this mission, he’ll lose more than just his honor. Because despite all his training, even he can’t raise the dead.
DEDICATION
To Kyle, Jared, and Sydney for being the best on-going story I’ve never written. You can’t make up this kind of chaos. And I wouldn’t change it for the world.
To those of you, like me, who hope to find their “Russel” one day. Never stop dreaming.
And to Elle James for creating a kickass kindle world and letting me play, again. Can’t wait to come back—yup, I said it. Because you all know Rigs needs a story.
PROLOGUE
Park County, Montana.
Snow. Christ, how long had it been since he’d driven in snow?
Russel “Ice” Foster stared at the expanse of white powder covering the lonely road, wondering if he’d ever seen anything so pristine. So pure. Growing up on the streets of LA, he hadn’t encountered snow until his pararescue training. Oh yeah, he’d learned about the fucking cold pretty damn quickly. Nothing like a week in the Arctic to make those neurons fire—create permanent pathways that went on high alert whenever the temperature dropped below freezing. He couldn’t walk into an ice rink without having a few flashbacks of that training session.
Not that he’d been in an ice rink recently. Been anywhere other than where his next mission had taken him. And, for the past decade, it had been the desert. The Sandbox, as it had been affectionately termed, then on to Afghanistan. Heat. Sand. Dust that caked every damn inch of his skin for years on end. He’d had the occasional mountain rescue. Donned the odd parka and gloves. But nothing compared to the endless fields of snow he’d been driving through for the past few hours.
He scrubbed a hand down his face, shifted his truck into four-wheel drive, then started down the road. He hadn’t seen another vehicle since he’d pulled off the main interstate and onto some shit back road in the middle of nowhere, Montana. Not exactly nowhere, but it felt like it. Endless miles with nothing but the occasional ranch opening up the forest on either side. He’d checked the map a dozen times, had even inputted the address into his GPS. He was definitely on the right road, even if he felt lost.
Russel cursed the thought. He’d never imagined he’d ever feel that way—not after making a living out of finding people. A life dedicated to the military. A lifetime’s worth of blood, sweat and determination to make it through Combat Rescue training. He’d been in the one percent of candidates who had actually reached the finish line. Who had earned the coveted PJ title and received their maroon beret.
Since then, he’d been on more covert rescue missions than he could count—dragging men back from places no one had ever heard of. Missions that wouldn’t make the evening news. He was one of the guys who went in when special ops went down. Their only chance at getting back alive. Sometimes, with a team. Often, alone. Armed and ready to kill in order to bring his teammates back alive. His brothers back alive—men who’d dedicated their lives to fighting for freedom. Men who didn’t surrender. Who didn’t die pretty. Russel did anything and everything to uphold his sworn oath—that others may live.
And, here he was, in the middle of Montana, feeling lost.
He’d never considered a life beyond the service. Never imagined he’d have to learn how to integrate back into civilian life. He’d planned on dragging his ass through enemy territory until he either got old enough to retire or got himself killed. Either was fine by him. He’d never been afraid of dying. Had made peace with it, right from the start. And, now, he was faced with the possibility of a life so
foreign to him, he didn’t know where to start. How to fit in. All it had taken was one fucked-up mission, and here he was. On the brink of change. Caught in limbo until the review board gave their final decision. And it didn’t take a psychic to know which side of the fence they were leaning toward.
He glanced at the GPS, again. Just another ten miles, and he’d reach Eagle Rock. A blip on the map. A town he’d miss if he closed his eyes for longer than a couple of seconds. And, yet, it might be his only chance at salvation. A Hail Mary in a lifetime of rolling sevens.
He laughed—out loud in the empty cabin. He’d been lucky his commander hadn’t tossed his ass in jail straight off then tossed the key—due process be damned. Getting forced to take a temporary leave—yeah, it had been the best option in a list full of ugly alternatives. Not that the accusations had been justified. They weren’t. And, given the same situation, he’d do it all over, again. Exactly the same. He didn’t pull punches, and he didn’t let his teammates down. Period. If saving that Marine’s life meant Russel might have to make a new one for himself—he’d accept it. God knew he had more than enough blood on his conscience, already. He didn’t need any more.
The voice on his GPS broke the silence, calling out the next turn. He was nearly there. His last chance. One he needed to make count.
The ranch Russel pulled up to was impressive. The sprawling acres with majestic views of the Crazy Mountains behind it definitely surpassed his expectations. A modest house fronted the property, and he smiled when the door opened before he’d done more than jump out of his truck.
The woman standing in the doorway was breathtaking. Blonde hair and delicate features, she looked every inch the Hollywood starlet he’d been told she was, even with a toddler hitched on one hip, and her hair pulled into a ponytail.
She smiled as he climbed the few short steps to the porch. “Hey. You must be that para-something that Hank’s been chattering about for days, now. Ice, right? I’m Sadie.”
“Pararescue, or PJ, if you’d like. And, yes, ma’am.” He extended his hand. “The name’s Russel Foster.”
Sadie laughed, waving him inside. “No need to be so formal, here. You can call me Sadie—all the guys do. And I doubt anyone actually calls you Russel. Swede’s been using Ice this entire time.”
“To be honest, I’ll answer to just about anything.”
She laughed, again. “Hank and Swede are in the office. Follow me.” She took off, absently doting on her daughter before glancing back at him. “Please excuse the mess. Emma and I are heading off to LA in a few hours, along with Swede and Allie. I can’t believe how much stuff I have to take along for one tiny person.”
“I wouldn’t call this a mess. You have a lovely home.”
“Liar, but thanks.” Sadie glanced back at him. “You know, when Hank told me you were large, I didn’t imagine you might be bigger than him. Guess that’s kind of necessary in your line of work.”
“I do whatever it takes to bring my brothers back.”
“Including carrying them?”
“If necessary.”
She shook her head. “And I thought SEALs were crazy.” She pointed to a door at the end of a hallway. “The guys are through there. Just go on in. They’re expecting you.”
She turned and headed back toward the entrance, stopping partway. “I hope you decide to join us, Ice. We can use all the honorable men we can find.”
Russel nodded his thanks, doing his best not to flinch at the word “honorable”. If the review board had its way, that was the last term anyone would use to describe him.
He waited until she’d disappeared into another room before covering the last of the distance. He knocked on the door, despite her instructions, opening it when a man yelled from within. He stepped into the large space, taking stock of the room.
It was uncluttered with some shelves on one side and a large desk in front of an immense window, giving a panoramic view of the mountains behind them. A few chairs were positioned around the room, with a couple sitting in front of the desk. Two men stood off to the right, mouths lifted into grins.
The taller of the two stepped forward, extending his hand. “You must be Ice. I’m Hank Patterson. We talked on the phone. This is Axel Svenson, but we all just call him Swede.”
“Russel Foster. Pleased to meet you. I’ve heard good things about you and your crew, both with respect to your service and your new venture. Brotherhood Protectors has been getting quite the chatter lately. Rumor has it you guys are making a real difference out here.”
“We try.” Hank motioned to one of the empty chairs. “Please, have a seat. I’m sure it was an interesting drive with all the snow we just got.”
Russel chuckled, taking the chair closest to him. “It’s been a while since I drove in these conditions. Though, it’s not that different from sand.”
“Nicer, though. Prettier, too.” He folded his hands together on top of the desk, glancing at Swede. “Speaking of rumors, we’ve heard you might be going civilian, soon. That’s why I called—asked you to come out. Thought we might do a preemptive strike, if you will. See if you had any thoughts on what your future plans were if things go that way? If you might consider joining our team?”
Russel clenched his jaw, studying both men. But, if they were concerned about how his career might end, they hid it well. “I’ll get the final decision in a few weeks. And, no, I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. Though, I’m pretty sure I already know what the outcome’s gonna be.”
Hank nodded, glancing at Swede, again. “The waiting is always the hardest part. We both went through it with the medical review board. All that fuss getting in, making it through to the Teams, and it seems as if they can toss you aside without a second thought.”
“It’s not the medical review board I’m facing.”
Swede sighed. “We’ve…heard.”
Russel fisted his hands then pushed to his feet, taking a few heavy steps away before turning. While he didn’t regret his actions, he’d be lying if he said it didn’t sting. That his fifteen years of service would be defined by a black mark he’d never erase.
He held his head high, eyeing both men. “If you’ve heard the rumors, then you know this is serious.”
Swede twisted in his chair to face him. “We know the basics, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Then, you might want to think twice before asking me to sign up. I’m not like the other men, here. I’m not getting ousted because of a bum leg or because I decided it was time to quit. If the review board decides to discharge me—and we all know that’s the way it’s gonna play out. The only way it can play out without certain high-ranking officers losing face and possibly important connections. It’ll be an other-than-honorable discharge. It won’t matter how many men I saved. How many times I dragged my ass through hostile territory to get the job done. All people will see is that I wasn’t fit to stay. That the Air Force deemed me a liability.”
Hank rose, staying behind the desk. “Easy, Russel. We didn’t bring you here to judge you.”
“Then, you’re crazier than I am for coming.” He raked his hand across his scalp. Fuck, he’d have to start growing his hair before it became a constant reminder of all he’d lost.
Hank looked at Swede then slowly made his way around the desk, stopping next to his friend. “We’re not crazy. And, as far as your situation goes, I’d appreciate it if you’d answer three simple yes or no questions. Then, if you want to get the hell out of here and never come back, I’ll respect that.”
Russel crossed his arms over his chest. “Shoot.”
“First, did you save that Marine’s life?”
He frowned. “Yes.”
“All right. Second…were your actions that might get you this unwanted distinction a direct result of saving that Marine?”
“Of course. Whatever it takes. Period.”
“Understood. And, finally…” He moved closer until he was up i
n Russel’s face. “Would you do it, again, knowing the outcome you might face?”
Russel held his gaze, feeling the truth down to his soul. “In a heartbeat. Exactly the same. I took an oath. I don’t go back on my promises.”
Hank smiled, clapped him on the shoulder then walked back to his desk. He looked at Swede. “That’s good enough for me. What about you, Swede?”
Swede grinned. “The man had me at the first ‘yes’.”
“Then, it’s unanimous.” Hank returned to his chair. “We all know it’s a bullshit charge. But…like you said. Someone has to take the fall, and you rolled the snake eyes, this time.” He leaned back and kicked his feet up on the desk. “Just do me a favor?”
Russel nodded, not sure how to respond. Getting an other-than-honorable discharge carried serious ramifications. Ones Hank and Swede didn’t seem to care about. “What’s that?”
“Stick around for a while. See what you think of Montana. Shadow some of the guys. I’m actually meeting up with a buddy of yours tomorrow night, and with Swede heading out shortly, I could use an extra set of eyes. Not to mention this buddy is your number one fan. He’s managed to bring your name up in conversation a lot. Swears you’re the only reason he made it back alive.”
“Does this fan have a name?”
“The guys all call him Midnight.”
“Sam Montgomery?” Russel chuckled. “I’d heard he’d been medically discharged. Didn’t realize he was working for you. I haven’t seen him since… Well, since that night. The guy’s hardcore. Carried his buddy five miles with four broken ribs and a buggered knee and shoulder before finally passing out, still holding him. Probably wouldn’t have punctured his lung if he’d stayed put, but he knew Gray wouldn’t have even had a chance if he had, so…. Killed a part of me not to save Gray. It still haunts me.”