by Emily Snow
When Brian was thinking about who he would need for this mission, he knew Trig was the first person to call. His Marine Corps brother would be there for him no matter what was needed.
The second on Brian’s short list was a guy that saved his ass in a bar in Ireland. The Cuban born, dark-brown-skinned male had stood out in the crowd. The women seemed to flock around him after hearing him speak his order for a set of shots, the hostess’ phone number, and a beer for the lady that was walking to the restroom. The woman’s sway of her hips had become more pronounced as the bartender snorted. At the time, Brian had shaken his head at the antics of the women and the response they had to the man. It was that response that had saved Brian’s life.
Brian and a mammoth-sized giant had gotten into a heated argument about soccer. Both had been drinking and quite possibly had downed one too many Guinnesses before arguing the same damn point. Thomas “Hounder” Madison had gotten one of the “lassies” that had been hanging on his every word to distract the big man with her “massive melons.” Those were Hounder’s words, not his.
The woman walked up to the “Mass Tech,” grabbed his hand, and slapped that huge paw under her shirt. When she began to react to his flicking, the Samoan’s attention remained on her and Hounder walked Brian right out the front door. It wasn’t until later in the evening that Brian realized he’d left the case he’d been carrying at the bar. That was a sure sign that he’d had too much to drink. Brian never left signs that he’d been present in any area, not even his home. He knew he had to rectify that oversight. Prepping himself for the fight of his life, he was surprised to learn that the staff of the bar were looking for a way to carry the then-dead Samoan out of the building.
It was in that moment that he realized who he was dealing with. Brian would later learn that the former Army Ranger was also a consultant that handled sticky situations. “Mass Tech,” the Samoan, was one of the most wanted “pimps” in the area. He ran a prostitution ring that also used some of the women to traffic drugs in and out of the country, dead and alive. He’d apparently pissed off the wrong person, or the wrong person’s daughter was initiated because the Samoan and several of his associates were coughing up dirtballs. Hounder, the Cuban Killer, had been called in to “take care of things,” which explained why the man was no more. The sound of Hounder’s voice brought him back to the present.
“Ghost, you have got to stop denying the truth.”
“What truth?” Brian stopped his brisk, forward pace, placed one hand over his chest and the other on Hounder’s shoulder causing the other man to stop as well. “Are you finally coming out of the closet?”
“Shut the fuck up. You know I enjoy the … canal. The boat that rides along it is not my speed.”
Isabelle’s short, dark brown hair floated around her ears as she chuckled. She brought up the rear of the group. “That boat probably only strokes the surface. No person could get a good ride out of that thing. I feel sad for your conquests. I hope that’s not the reason they call you Hounder.”
Hounder stepped a little closer to Brian before whispering, “Are you sure she’s integral to the team dynamic?”
“Oh snap, two big words for Madison, y’all. Integral and dynamic were used and in the correct manner. We have to mark a calendar.”
The jovial, masculine voice belonged to the one they called Charlie Boy. He was one of the youngest of the new recruits. He’d only been in the area for two days, so he wasn’t included on any of their recent ops. The team needed to make sure he was ready. The “Golden Boy” looked too well-kempt for Brian’s good. He looked too clean, innocent, and green. Brian didn’t feel right getting the boy’s hands dirty. His short dark hair and smaller build on his solid frame said he still had some work to do before he was allowed out in the field. For now, he was helping Proph with research.
Shockingly enough, Hounder didn’t verbally respond. He just gave the kid a hand gesture. It didn’t stop the kid from continuing to talk shit to the other team members. On their way up, the four of them stated they wanted to do a walkthrough of the offices upon arriving. Brian had a feeling that was going to be put on hold for a few. The additional cars in the lot and around the building said the rest of the team was there, even if not in the offices. He and the other four were walking through the offices making observations of the space when a beautiful woman walked out of one of the three grand-scale offices.
“Well, hello there, beautiful. My apologies for staring, but looking at you makes me tongue tied and stupefied.” Hounder leaned in to kiss her hand.
Isabelle rolled her beautiful, crystal blue eyes and almost missed the woman’s response. The woman spin-chopped Hounder’s chest then pressed her leg into his groin as she pushed him into a wall.
“Hello there, handsome. I’m Lieutenant Commander Wellsie Sharp and if you’re working here then you and I will be working together. One thing you should know is that the men I lay with know how to follow orders while still being a man. If you want this, then you need to prove to me that you can be that man, big boy. All this sexy won’t—I do mean won’t—settle for less. Sergeant Major Wallace, I’ll see you in twenty. Have fun boys and lady.”
Wellsie Sharp was the owner of that jasmine oil scent. Her creamy, caramel brown skin and dark brown eyes shined with a softness only she could carry off. Her dark brown, loose curls were wild on this day and fell around her shoulders. Her petite, but well-filled-out frame caused men to underestimate her strength. It was something she used to her advantage on a regular basis. She had assets that filled her out in all of the right places. He was a guy. He wouldn’t be that one if he didn’t notice. Brian began to inform the only other male in the room who didn’t know who she was just who the woman was that had hemmed him up.
“Staff Sergeant Madison, you’ve just met the latest addition to the crew and ...”
“The woman that is about to set my life right. I cannot believe she’s been walking the face of the earth and I didn’t know it.”
“Cool your jets there, Tommy. I think we need to discuss the rules of the office.”
“Cut the shit, B. There are no rules. It’s been no-holds-barred, dick-swinging-meets-battle-royale around these parts. You just brought puss one and dangled it like a doggy treat in front of a horny, rabid dog. This shit’s not going to be pulled back any time soon. You might as well step out of the way and let the chips fall where they may. Tell me I can’t go after that and you are just going to make it worse. Let it ride, B.”
“For your simple brain to come up with all of those metaphors, you must really want it. Have at it. I’ll be here with the vacuum to Hoover up the pieces of your carcass when she’s done with you.”
“Man, I don’t give a damn. As long as I can say that I tried.”
Brian chuckled. “Whatever gets you off. You might want to wait before you make a hasty decision. ‘Puss’ two is coming in shortly. I’m going to only state this warning once because I don’t repeat myself on anything, Hounder, don’t go venturing into unknown territories unless you’re ready for what you’re going to find. Oh, and ‘Puss’ two might not want to be bothered; she doesn’t mess around with military men.”
“Isn’t she one of us? How she gonna hate on the brotherhood? That’s a contradiction in terms,” Hounder tossed over his shoulder then froze when a female voice rang out loud and proud in the room.
“Having a hot ass, a grabber’s full of tits, and a slit between my legs—not a third leg swinging low or rising high—kind of disqualifies me from any ‘brotherhood’ I know of. ‘Comrade in Arms’ I can handle.”
The words came from the hardened feminine voice of First Lieutenant Belinda Banneker.
“B. B., you certainly know how to make an entrance,” Brian greeted his old friend, leaving Hounder standing with his mouth open.
“B. B.?”
“Yep Hounder. Belinda Banneker or Ball Buster, either suits her. She was one of the toughest trainers on the Air Force base, from what I hear
. Most quivered at the mention of her name. It was worse when she proved to all the nonbelievers that she was the officer they needed to fear the most. There are grown-ass men that have seen some of the worst of the worst oversees that will shit their pants if they know she’s even remotely in the area of their camp.”
The woman pulled out one of those black, rubber band things that women use to pull their hair into a ponytail. Her long, dark red hair was put up within seconds using that thing and grunted as she walked by. Even up, her hair fell to mid-back. Her green eyes were marked with dark makeup, pink lips were glossed, and she wore camouflage pants with a tank. Hounder stepped back. Brian watched her with a smirk and noticed her smile when she took a seat at one of the chairs closest to the door in the conference room. He and Hounder followed her down the hall as she offered up a rare explanation for her personality.
“I was raised by a momma who was surrounded by six men: four boys, her husband, and her daddy. Granddaddy always said Momma was the only girl coming up that would whoop a bull with his own balls then feed ‘em to the bitch that made ‘em. Basically means …”
“Your momma didn’t play.”
Hounder stood with his mouth open as Proph walked into the main hall archway and nodded to B.B.
“Hell no. Proph is here. How did you get him out of the chapel long enough to …”
The sound of a whip could be heard before the end of it could be seen tickling B.B.’s skin. The smile that lit her face at the greeting made the usually straight-faced Elijah Reynolds offer up a hint of a smile.
“B.B., I’d advise you not to finish that statement. It usually involves my silent appendage. If you don’t want the commitment, then the mere mention of it is off-limits to you and that mouth of yours. Plus, you had your chance.”
B.B.’s head whipped back in the direction of where Brian, Hounder, and now Trig were standing. Judging by the way she worried her bottom lip, there was something to that statement. Brian shook his head. His philosophy was “as long as it doesn’t affect the team, he didn’t need to know.”
“This guy here is Chief Petty Officer 2 Elijah Reynolds, otherwise known as Prophet,” Brian began his introductions as he entered the room, but was interrupted.
Eventually, he would be able to complete the introductions of the team members. He mentally made a plan to have another go at it.
“Prophet? Why in the hell is he called Prophet?”
“He tends to see shit before it happens. He’s our computer expert,” Brian responded to Hounder’s inquiry with a huff as he took his seat at the head of the table.
“He also studied theology for a few years before he decided to stick with computers,” Belinda stated as she moved to take a seat in another one of the executive chairs.
Brian noticed that the seat was furthest from where she assumed Elijah would be. What she didn’t know was the seat she’d taken was right next to where Elijah was going to sit.
“There’s a change. Why would you do something like that?” Samantha “Taps” Davis asked as she walked into the room and took a seat.
One of the last members of the team joined them. Her long, dark hair was swaying against her ass in her fitted jeans and black wife beater. Her full lips formed a sad smile as she entered and saluted him. Being a Lieutenant Colonel in the army didn’t deter her from pulling off the sexy. Her olive-toned skin and oval, greenish-blue eyes usually caught the attention of every male in the room. It seemed it still did, since all male eyes were on her. B.B. didn’t appear to care that a newcomer had entered the room. She responded as if she were amongst friends. Technically, she was.
“A woman had him rethinking his stance and choices in the matter,” B.B. began to fiddle with her Camillus knife, which looked like a switchblade.
Typical of her type of behavior, she was cleaning her fingernails. Brian smiled to himself as the conversation continued.
“I almost returned to my studies after the very same woman left me, stranded, and in the middle of the dessert,” Elijah stated as he made his way to the head of the table where Brian sat.
He’d stopped for a moment to check the projector panels and some other wires. Brian trusted Elijah to get all of that together. He just asked the man to give him detailed invoices to break down what was needed then paid the damn things.
B.B. decided it was time to change the subject.
“I believe I know or have heard of just about everyone in the room, even the ever elusive Lieutenant Commander Wellsie Sharp. The bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and somewhat overeager-looking one, I don’t know.”
Every head turned in Charlie Boy’s direction. The look that he gave them said he didn’t appreciate not only the statement, but the fact that they all looked directly at him after the description Belinda offered up. Wellsie had joined them again and was seated. Elijah took his usual seat as Charlie Boy began to respond. B.B. shifted in her seat so she was closer to where Wellsie was seated than to Elijah.
“Hey, I’m Charles Hitchens from Texas. I’m Coast Guard. General Wilkens recommended I be here, so here I am.”
Brian barely heard what Charlie had stated because he was watching Elijah’s silent torture of Belinda. He kept inching her chair closer to his and she would quietly roll the thing back before being rolled back to him. Watching the joy that Proph was getting out of aggravating her had Brian fighting not to lose it.
Looking at his watch, he realized they needed to get the rest of the introductions done. Some things needed to be handled and team members needed to be in place in the next few hours. He wanted everyone up to speed and as quickly as possible.
Most of the team had come together because he’d had a previous history with them. The others were not his chosen. The rest of the team members were handpicked by General Wilkens. Brian didn’t even question the choices. If anyone was invested in having the best of the best on this, then it would be the General. It helped that the man was connected to the reason for their mission. He was the girl’s grandfather. She was the firstborn grandchild and the one that was the closest to the man. He’d barely kept it together before they ended the call that set Brian’s team in motion.
This was something that Brian had always wanted to do. He’d been looking for something to do with himself after he wasdischarged from the Marines. The every-so-often odd job wasn’t enough to keep him occupied. The woman that had been in his life was no more. Getting the call from the General had his mind reeling. He felt like these missions were something that he should be doing … should’ve always been doing.
Brian stood at the front of the room and waited for everyone to settle back down. Having known most of the team for quite a few years, he knew it was going to be a process to get the rowdy bunch under control and focused enough to get them introduced to one another. Pulling down an overhead screen, he displayed the chart of the members of their new team.
Jarhead Hunting Crew (J.H.C. Inc.)
Chart #1:
Names: Ranks: Code Name:
Brian Wallace Sgt. Major Ghost (1)
Trevor Marshall MGy Sgt Trig (2)
Thomas Madison SFC Hounder (3)
Belinda Banneker First Lt B.B. (4)
Elijah Reynolds CPO2 Prophet (5)
Samantha Davis MSgt Taps (6)
Wellsie Sharp SFC One Shot (7)
Charles Hitchens PO2 Charlie Boy (8)
Isabelle Pinters Lang. Analyst Lucky (9)
Chart #2:
Char
Division Expertise: Code Name:
Former Marine Planning Ghost (1)
Marines Sharp Shooter Trig (2)
Army Acquisitions Hounder (3)
Air Force Ammunitions Expert B.B. (4)
Navy Computer Tech. Prophet (5)
Army Infiltration Taps (6)
Army Hand-to-hand One Shot (7)
Coast Guard Research Charlie Boy (8)
N/A Lang. Analyst Lucky (9)
“N/A? What in the hell does N/A mean? Don’t say shit, Ghost? I know
it means not applicable. I want to understand the reasoning behind it. Do you not report to a particular branch of the office?” B.B. asked as she looked at Isabelle.
“In most cases, no I don’t. They don’t tend to limit me that way.”
That seemed to be enough of an explanation for everyone there.
“Taps? Does she dance or something?”
“No. Well, yes I do, but that isn’t why they nicknamed me Taps. It’s …” Samantha began, but Brian jumped in.
“She was the doctor who gave us our medical exams. Sam was the doc on hand before we went on one of our special ops …”
Brian was in a silent tit-for-tat with Sam because she chose to interrupt him.
“On loan, of course. I had to give shots and such. The first thing most of the guys saw me doing was double tapping a needle before giving them their much need meds.”
“It didn’t help that she looked like she was enjoying stabbing us with needles.”
“I did not act like that. The lot of you were a bunch of big babies. Most of y’all bitched and moaned about having to be stuck with a needle.”
Trig shot him a look that said she was crazy. They both shook their heads and decided to let that go. The team took in the board and reviewed the contents of the chart for a few minutes before another question was posed.
“One shot? I don’t believe anyone is a better shot than Trig.”
Hounder turned to face Wellsie. Brian waited for her to ream him a new one, but she surprised him.
“I’m not a better shot. I would never say that.”
“Sharp, cut the shit. You’re an a-fucking-mazing shot.”