Goddess Rising

by Alexi Lawless

  Sam gasped as he knocked the wind from her diaphragm, but the single residual benefit of being tazed was that she was still a little numb. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as the momentum shocked a breathless oof out of her.

  Alejandro yanked her back up and punched her hard in the side with a wicked uppercut that came all the way from his knees. Sam staggered back, reeling from the sheer power of it. But her body was still in shock, and the adrenaline that usually took a few seconds to kick in was already whooshing through her veins like a freight train. Sam came up far faster than he expected, surprising him.

  He flexed his hands, moving toward her with menace in his eyes. “You’re going to be so sorry you ever crossed me, stupid bitch—”

  She stepped forward, baiting him, and Alejandro jumped at it, rushing her again. But this time, she was ready for him. Sam used his momentum to parry and sidestep. She caught his wrist and yanked him forward and down, slamming him in the side of his head with her elbow as she jerked him toward the ground. It was a quick, hard blow, delivered with an economy of movement she’d been taught since she was a kid by a father unwilling to let her see her size or gender as an indefensible weakness.

  In the terrible seconds Alejandro stumbled back far enough to regroup, Samantha saw the irony in her current predicament. Her father, the most controlling person she knew, had been the very man to teach her everything she knew about standing up and fighting for herself.

  Winded but furious, Alejandro came back punching, with a tight, fast combination—jab—cross—hook—Sam bobbed and weaved, dodging each hit as quickly as she could. But she let him get close. Close enough to give her the advantage she needed. The moment came when his powerful right cross flew past her face. Sam felt his fist graze her hair. It would have been a knockout blow had it landed, his weight fully behind it as he stepped toward her to complete the punch. Sam used his momentary imbalance to duck and drive her shoulder hard into his ribs. Then she punched him so hard in the balls she could’ve sworn he squealed.

  Good luck having children, asshole.

  Sam jerked back, bouncing on the balls of her feet, ready just in case he came back for more.

  Alejandro collapsed in a heap, cupping himself as he curled into fetal position.

  Finish this, her mind whispered. Finish it!

  Sam dropped to the ground beside him, wrapping one arm around Alejandro’s head and the other around his arm, squeezing him in a painful compression choke, blood and rage pounding out a hard rhythm in her ears.

  Alejandro gasped for air like a fish out of water. Sam bent his arm backward, and his gasping turned into a strangled cry as he squirmed and hit out at her with his free hand. But all his squirming only put him more under her control, and Sam squeezed down harder, like a vise, intent on snapping his arm in two.

  “Not so tough now are you?” she panted, exerting enormous pressure on the bone, feeling it flex and bend near to breaking. A little thrill coursed through her darkest self at the realization that she was capable of hurting him back—and much, much worse. Sam knew in that moment that she’d exacted her retribution and then some. Her grip on him was as tight as an anaconda.

  Alejandro’s thrashing became more urgent as he jerked and clawed, desperate to get out of the chokehold. He was strong, but she had an excellent pin and all the leverage from her position. Sam used her hips to crush against his ribs, squeezing more air out as he struggled. She could feel his bone bending from her unrelenting pressure. She imagined it snapping—how good that crisp sound would feel, how right after all these months of torture. I’ve got you, you bastard. And I’m about to finish this shit once and for all—

  “Sammy?” she heard Rita called out. “Sammy—what the fuck?!”

  Rita rushed toward them in the darkness, prying and shoving Sam off her cousin. Alejandro gasped loudly in relief, holding his arm as he rolled away.

  “What the fuck is going on here?!” Rita shouted, standing between them, head swinging back and forth, eyes wide with disbelief. Sam moved to push Rita out of the way and get at Alejandro again, but Rita caught her arm, shaking her hard.

  “Mirar, te voy a partir tu mandarina en gajos!19 Back off, Sammy—I mean it!” Rita shoved Sam back roughly, staring at her like she was crazy. She glared for just a moment longer before she squatted down next to her cousin.

  It was dark, too dark to get a good look, but Sam could see the strained outline of veins popping out of his neck and face, saw the faint glimmer of sweat as he coughed hard, fighting to regain his breath, still holding his arm and his balls.

  “What the fuck is going on here?” Rita asked again, looking back up at Sam with a furious expression. “Jesus, you nearly killed him.”

  I wanted to. I’ve never wanted to hurt someone so bad in my life.

  “That piece of shit tazed me!” Sam shouted, pointing at him.

  Rita’s eyes widened. She turned back to Alejandro, who was struggling to sit up in the dirt.

  “Neta wey, culero?”20 Rita asked, incredulous.

  When he said nothing, Rita patted him down roughly, finding and pulling out the Taser from his cargo pants’ pocket. She looked up at Sam, disbelief marring her features before she swung back around and smacked Alejandro hard in the back of the head.

  “Ouch!” he grunted, glaring up at her. “What the hell, Rita—?”

  “What the hell?!” Rita shouted, furious. “What the hell is the matter with you, Alejo?! You’ve crossed the damn line this time—”

  “Oh, I’d say you’ve all crossed the line.”

  Sam stiffened at the voice, turning.

  Colonel Sasser stood behind them in a t-shirt and his fatigue cargo pants, looking disheveled, sleep-deprived, and seriously irritated.

  “You jackasses can consider yourselves in deep shit, as of right now.”

  Chapter 23

  September—4 a.m., Sunday Morning

  Camp Swift, Bastrop County, Texas

  S A M A N T H A

  Inside a musty field office at Camp Swift, Sam and Alejandro sat stiffly in uncomfortable chairs, waiting for their punishment. Rita was wedged between them like an angry, bristling human barrier. She took turns staring at each of them in disgust, her face alternately disappointed and outright furious as she muttered obscenities in Spanish—words Sam wished she didn’t understand.

  Colonel Sasser had awoken his lieutenants—presumably by telephone—shortly after marching Sam, Alejandro, and Rita into the office. Bewildered, the sleepy lieutenants looked at the three offenders in harried surprise when they’d arrived to the office fifteen minutes prior. These were the absolute last three people they’d expected to see in this situation. Sam wished that were the case. In the space of a few hours she’d gone from riding high on her team’s win to feeling like she’d gotten gut-kicked by a donkey.

  Alejandro had one hand on his temple and the other on his junk as he slouched in the chair. Her ribs felt ravaged from his powerful uppercut. She knew they were bruised, possibly cracked. Sam wanted nothing more than to cradle her side and curl up in a ball, but she wouldn’t give that bastard the satisfaction of seeing how much he’d managed to hurt her, so she sat stiffly, ignoring the vibrating ache in her body.

  Her anger had abated to bleak awareness that she was not only going to get kicked out of the Challenge—she might very well get kicked out of the ROTC altogether for conduct unbecoming. Jesus.

  Rita crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat. “No manches!”21 she muttered, completely pissed off with the both of them. “I hope you’re both satisfied now. You two idiotas are going to get us all fucked!”

  Sam and Alejandro said nothing, waiting for their sentence in hostile, exhausted silence.

  “If I lose my scholarship because of you—” Rita shook her head suddenly, emotion cutting off her words just as the office door snapped open.

  “De Soto, Wyatt—get your worthless asses in here!” Sasser shouted from the desk as one of the lieutenants gestured them in.r />
  They both stood swiftly, posture rigid as they marched into the office. Sam went first, standing at attention.

  Alejandro stood tall beside her, all trace of his physical discomfort gone—a testament to his willpower, because she knew it had to cost him.

  “I will give you each one chance to tell me exactly why you two were out of barracks after hours. Then I’ll decide how we’ll handle this infraction,” Sasser told them, his expression stern as his lieutenants looked on grimly.

  Sam had no idea how much Sasser had seen of the tussle, but she did know how much was riding on her answer. In her mind, what had happened between her and Alejo should stay between them. She wouldn’t have her superior stepping in to save her, and she sure as hell wasn’t going down ratting on a fellow cadet, no matter how much she hated him. She’d never be a snitch. Sam knew without a shadow of a doubt that once you got a reputation for ratting people out, no one in your unit would ever trust you. And if no one trusted you, you’d never make it. Not here, not anywhere.

  Sasser looked at her first. Sam took it to mean she’d be the one to start.

  She could lie a little or lie a lot, but the punishment was likely to be the same either way. She decided to go for broke—make a lie so unlikely that it would almost be acceptably outrageous.

  “Sir, yes, sir! I apologize for being out of barracks after hours. I was having difficulty sleeping, and I decided to step outside for a smoke.”

  Sasser considered her, his eyes narrowed.

  “Cadet De Soto must have heard me, and he followed me out to order me back into barracks,” she continued, staring straight ahead. “I asked him to have one cigarette with me to celebrate the win tonight, and he reluctantly agreed, sir.”

  Sasser raised his brows.

  “To the victor goes the spoils, sir,” Sam added, sheepish. “And Cadet De Soto was a good sport. He agreed—against his better judgment.”

  If Alejo was surprised by her lie, his body language didn’t show it.

  “We smoked and talked—”

  “About what, Cadet?” Sasser cut in, clearly disbelieving.

  “Dallas Cowboys versus the Chicago Bears this season, sir. De Soto stated firmly that the Bears had the best chance of making it into the playoffs this season, and I said, ‘No way, no how,’ sir,” Sam continued, back rigid, eyes straight ahead. “We got into a friendly tussle. Cadet Ramos came out to tell me to get back to the barracks. You saw us when we were getting ready to ruck up. It was my fault Cadet Ramos was out after hours, sir. She was just trying to do the right thing. Any punishment should land squarely on me, sir.”

  Sasser stared at her in silence for what felt like a solid minute. It was no news to anyone that there was no love lost between her and Alejo, but she could feel him wondering why she’d lie.

  “De Soto, your turn.”

  “Sir, yes, sir! I heard a noise outside of the barracks and went to investigate. I was worried one of the men on my team was outside, and as the leader for my team, I felt responsible. When I saw Cadet Wyatt, I ordered her back to barracks. She was smoking a cigarette and asked if she could finish. Maybe it was bad judgment on my part, but I felt like she’d earned it, sir.” He paused for a quick breath, his chest high and his posture rigid.

  Sam was more than a little shocked he was going along with her, but she figured he realized her story was the least likely to get them kicked out of the ROTC altogether. Thank Christ no one had patted Rita down and found the Taser, or it would have been all over for the three of them.

  “We got into an argument about football, sir,” he continued. “I told her the Chicago Bears have had their first four-win season since 1975, and she said it wasn’t enough to make the playoffs. We got into a friendly tussle. Cadet Ramos came out to get Cadet Wyatt, sir.”

  “Prove it.”

  Alejo blinked. “Sir?”

  “Can you prove your story is true?” Sasser asked, leaning back in his chair, fingers steepled under his chin. “Otherwise, I’m fixing to kick both of your sorry asses to the curb. Not only will you be out of the Ranger Challenge. You’ll be out of the ROTC for fighting, lying, and insubordination.”

  Sam fought not to react. How had tonight gone so goddamn sideways?

  “Sir, may I reach into my side pocket?” Alejandro asked.

  “Only if you think you can pull a rabbit out of a hat, cadet,” Sasser replied. One of his lieutenants snickered from behind. Sam ignored him, wondering what Alejo was up to.

  Alejandro pulled out two cigarette butts, field stripped like a proper soldier. He held them out for inspection.

  “I was going to toss these afterward, but you caught us before I could, sir. I apologize for my role in this situation. As a senior cadet, I should have set a better example, but I didn’t. The punishment should lie with me, sir.”

  Sam could barely suppress the smile. Alejandro was a son of a bitch, but at least he had an iota of personal accountability. And for the first time ever, he’d actually backed her up. Granted, she was trying to save his ass too, but it took two to tango.

  Sasser considered them both for a long time, his expression wary. Finally, he released a long, irritated sigh.

  “I’ve never seen the two of you agree on the color of the sky, much less on covering up whatever you were mixed up in tonight. Fact is, you two are among my best cadets, and you know it.” Sasser paused, and then he leaned forward, clasping his hands on the desk. “But you broke the rules tonight, regardless of exactly what happened out there. So here’s what’s going to happen first: You’re both out of the Ranger Challenge for conduct unbecoming.”

  Shit! Shit, shit, shit.

  Epic disappointment crashing through her. Everything she’d worked her ass off for—gone with one incredibly stupid fight.

  “I don’t buy either of your stories for a single minute, but I also know neither of you two will come clean, and to be honest, I kind of like seeing you idiots doing something as a team for once, even if it is so damn wrong.” Sasser paused, leaning back in his chair. “So here’s the thing I’m going to do: You two will be paired up together for every single detail, event, exercise, and corrective action for the rest of the year until this little Abbott-and-Costello act you’ve got going becomes the real deal.”

  Sasser stood up and moved past his desk, coming to a stop in front of them. “You two need to learn what every real soldier knows—that without each other, neither of you will survive.” Sasser looked at each of them. “Neither of you will succeed without the other this year. So you two had better figure out real quick how to work it out.” He nodded at the two lieutenants. “Get these morons out of my sight. They’ll be doing two extra hours of PT tomorrow, cleaning gear and equipment while the cadets finish FTX.”

  “And Cadet Ramos?” one of the lieutenants asked.

  “Latrine duty,” Sasser replied. “She wants to mop up their bullshit? Then let’s give her the real thing.”

  Chapter 24

  September—Sunday Morning

  Wyatt Ranch, Texas

  R O B E R T W Y A T T

  Robert sat on the porch swing, swaying gently as he enjoyed his morning coffee and a copy of the Sunday paper. The phone rang inside the house as he finished the article he was reading.

  Hannah poked her head out the screen door.

  “Rob—you’ve got a call from a Colonel David Sasser. Do you want to take it outside or pick it up in the library?” she asked, wiping the flour from her cheek.

  “Can you bring me the phone?” he asked, wondering why Sasser was calling. They’d spoken briefly after David told him Wes was still planning to write the article, but he wasn’t due for a check-in on Samantha’s progress for another week or so.

  Hannah brought him the cordless and poured him a warmer for his coffee. He smiled his thanks as he answered the phone.

  “Robert here.”

  “Got some good news and some bad news. Which do you want first?” David asked.

  “Depends,” R
obert replied. “Should I be adding bourbon to my coffee for either?”

  “If I wasn’t surrounded by a couple dozen cadets right now, I’d be drinking bourbon straight.”

  Robert sat silently, waiting for him to go on.

  “I caught Samantha and Alejandro de Soto fighting outside the barracks early in the morning.”

  He set his coffee down. “Who was winning?”

  “From what I could tell, your daughter was givin’ De Soto a right whoopin’ before Cadet Ramos stopped it.”

  “Well, that is good news.” Robert smiled, proud of his daughter for finally sticking up for herself. Maybe he wouldn’t have to step in after all.

  “Actually, it’s not. They’re both disqualified from the Challenge now,” David huffed. “My two best, too. I’m pretty twisted up about this, truth be told.”

  Robert pinched the bridge of his nose. Sammy would be devastated.

  “Now before you say anything, Rob—you know I have to make an example out of them. Can’t treat them any different, or the cadets will start running roughshod over the organization,” David told him. “I’m not happy about this, but it had to be done.”

  “No, no, you’re right to do it,” Robert agreed. “She shouldn’t have been fighting, even if this kid had it coming. She knows better.”

  “Well, the good news is that it puts off her Army ambitions for another year,” David pointed out.

  “Gives me more time to get her around to my way of seeing things,” he murmured. “If she’s going to be a midshipman and make it onto the Navy’s summer cruise, she’s still got time to declare.”

  “Got a question for you.”

  Robert waited.

  “Is Sam interested in the Rangers because it’s not the Navy, or is she interested in it because it’s one of the most difficult outfits to get into?” David asked.