Mission: Compromised Submissive

by Willow Brooke

  The girls came back toting platters full of the bright pink cupcakes. One by one they handed them out, not hesitating to smack the hands of those who attempted to grab an extra as they passed. “I see Mrs. Sanders has been teaching you two her tricks,” Michael snickered. Mrs. Sanders cranked her eyes at him with a subtle grin, bringing a blush to the old man’s face that didn’t go unnoticed.

  Once the girls were out of the room to fetch the next armload, Hulk chided with his voice lowered, “So, does this mean you two are finally coming out of the closet? Or, should I say, basement?”

  Michael managed to deepen into a deep crimson color. All eyes were on him, waiting for the confession they were all fully aware of. Hulk wasn’t the only one who had the misfortune of hearing odd noises coming from Michael’s hide-a-way spot. And, as if that wasn’t enough, Kodiak and Bud had been spotted heaving a new pull out couch to replace the tiny love seat that had been down there for years. Supposedly, ‘the little couch didn’t have enough room to lounge comfortably.’ Which, in layman terms, meant uncomfortable for two. As the silence drew on, Michael’s lips curled into a huge grin.

  “Don’t be disrespectful, boys. It’s no secret that Margaret and I have been…courting…for some time now. She is an amazing woman.” He reached his hand over and placed it on hers in a public claim.

  “Don’t lie to the kids, Michael. Yes. We’re together, and will be sharing living quarters as soon as he gets the nerve to put a ring on my finger.” She smiled sweetly, watching as the room gawked in shock. The women all grew excited, immediately falling into chatter of wedding plans. Before they could get going and fly away with it, Michael’s voice cut them off.

  “I guess it’s a good thing I bought this then.” He stood and withdrew something out of his pocket, moving around to kneel beside her chair. Everyone went silent. Even the girls who had returned with the rest of the cupcakes stopped and watched, hushing Skyler when he went to ask for another.

  Mrs. Sanders watched patiently, radiating so much joy she shook. Like a true gentleman, Michael took her hand and kissed it. “Margaret Sanders, I have been carrying this thing around in my pocket for the past month, waiting for the right time to present it. And, just like you pushed me to change from the grumpy lost man I was, you gave me the shove I needed to get down here where I should have been the day I bought it. You’ve taken the misery out of my life and gave me love. Your patience and strength has made me see the man I want to be. I owe you my life, and offer what little time I have left. Will you do this old coot the honor of being my wife?”

  Margaret’s eyes rimmed with tears, but her smile said it all. The composed woman who always held it together now fought to find herself. In a sweet choked voice, she said, “I would be honored to.” She stood and pulled him to his feet, laying the hottest kiss on him the group had ever seen. They stood and joined them, applauding and giving their congratulatory hugs and handshakes before they finally sat, continuing with the special dessert to celebrate them.

  Chapter Two

  Vice tossed and turned, finding it impossible to sleep. The haunting bright red numbers flipped once again, showing 2:08 a.m. With an irritated growl she got up and threw on a pair of sweats and a hoodie, slipping her jogging shoes on as she headed for the door.

  The cool night air felt good against her face, blowing through her hair like a gentle caress. Its calming hand was more affection than she had received in far too long, and was an irritating reminder as to why she was out at this ungodly hour instead of snuggled in her bed snoring like a normal person. She took off in a jog, heading to the only place she could calm her mind—the gym.

  Pulling open the heavy door, she felt her hand against the wall until she found the switch and flipped it, illuminating the space. With no delay, she hurried over to the speakers that sat in the corner and plugged up her MP3 player, pumping “Crazy Bitch” by Buckcherry through the speakers to start her workout mix.

  After her sweatshirt had been tossed on the mats, she voided her mind and focused in on the punching bag, raining hits and kicks against it violently. By the end of the song, her mood was lighter. She fell into a good pace, keeping her movements steady and accurate with each blow. Finally. Her mind was blank. The only thoughts that floated through were of the next shot. She let her senses take over, absorbing the faint scent of hay mixed with the rubber and leather of the equipment. Music serenaded her soul, erasing all grief and pain. Kick. Punch. Spin kick. Jab. Over and over she went through the cycle, letting the burn in her muscles cleanse her.

  It seemed Dom wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep. He had hoped a good hard workout would do the trick, but hadn’t anticipated the gym might already be occupied this late at night. He heard the music before he got to the door and knew before he entered who it was. Vice. She was the only one of the team who could use LMFAO’s song “Shots”, mixed with country and oldies songs as motivation to pump a good workout. Everyone else opted for hard rock. He pushed open the door, entering undetected. Under any normal circumstances, Vice would have known he was there before he got within a hundred feet of the barn. She was so zoned she had no idea he had moved to stand not ten feet from her, watching. It was something to see her strength as she sent in a punishment with every damn blow. Over and over she pummeled the bag, beating out whatever had her riled. Before she realized his presence he left, not wanting to re-agitate her after the pounding she was putting her body through to get rid of just that. Now, more than ever, he knew. Coming on to her had not only been a major mistake, but a careless, stupid act that put the whole team in danger. She had to be focused for what they were going into. This mission was going to be the most intense and complicated of their career. They were so much alike in so many ways, proving it yet again. With his mind clouding with regret, he took off in a dead run out through the field. It wasn’t as appealing as the gym, but exercise was exercise. If he hoped to get any sleep before the long day began, exercise was a must.

  The next morning, the main house was abuzz with the normal morning happenings. Despite the team leaving in less than twenty-four hours, the routine didn’t falter. Mrs. Sanders busied herself in the kitchen baking and cooking enough to put the Vegas smorgasbord buffets to shame while the kids were munching their breakfast under the closeful protective watch of Kodiak. He had become the protector of all little people in the group, nominating himself as their transportation to and from school and all sports and activities. If one called home ill, he was out the door before the phone was hung up. The kids had a major affect on all of them, but their big, tough, gnarly bear was a mere beanie baby where they were concerned.

  Michael hung close to Margaret, watching her with a puppy love haze that left a goofy grin. Romeo and Juju were off doing morning chores before the team convened to finalize packing and last minute preparations while Hulk, Maverick, and Bud were watching the morning news. Rock and Joker were busy discussing the latest Intel they had gathered, keeping their voices low and hushed between bites of food. Vince, Bella, and Alaina were chit-chatting about Pop’s wife who was due to come any minute and visit while Pop met with the others for work. Once again, Vice was nowhere to be found.

  It wasn’t until the entire team was gathered in the Ops room that Vice showed face. After the long night of little sleep, and the extreme workout she had forced her body through until after 4 a.m., she was sore and tired, but her mind was clear. Everyone was gathered around the meeting table going over maps and diagrams, which was perfect. Diving straight into work was the best way to cure emotion. “We need to set camp here. It has the perfect cover, and is close enough we can intercept their radio transmissions but far enough they will be none the wiser. Did the General approve the new toys?” Vice turned and looked Dom square in the eye for the first time. Her features were stone cold, mimicking the normal hardass soldier they all knew and loved. She was back.

  “He will be by this afternoon with a package. We are getting the newest of everything, from CMOS cameras th
at are smaller than a dime and can transmit audio and video up to a hundred miles away, to the latest craze—the hornet. The hornet is a tiny programmable camera that takes in X-ray images and video all from its neat little wasp shape. It is a micro computerized war machine. With the flip of a button, it can be set to paint a building for air support to swoop in and wipe out. Next, we will be the first team to use the new GR-4783.”

  “What does it do?” Pop asked.

  “The better question would be, what it doesn’t do. The GR-4783, or Ironman, as it is better known, is a flexible wristband that is as thin as a piece of paper and highly durable. Unless it is turned on, it cloaks into an invisible film, taking on the appearance of your bare arm or top sleeve. From activating explosives to transmitting information, this little beauty does it all. It is the highest form of computer technology available. This thing puts Harry Potter’s invisible cloak to shame. Last but not least, we are getting a new team member.”

  “What? Who?” Hulk stood, bowing up in a defensive posture. It was no secret the team still felt the pressure of Venus’s untimely departure. The loss was like a sharp blade, making tension at an all time high going in to the first mission since his death. The other members all shared the same glare as Hulk, rushing Dom to set them straight before a riot broke out.

  “Hulk, sit down,” he growled. “Mac is a highly trained German Shepard. In a lot of ways, he is just like you, big man. He follows orders for treats, but has you beat in intelligence.”

  The group snickered, tossing jokes at Hulk relentlessly until Dom settled them once again. “Okay, that’s enough. There is one last thing to bring up before we get our asses in gear and finish this shit. I know we all feel the impact of Venus’s loss more now than ever. Use that as fuel for us to finish this shit. We are the best of the best. Let’s get in there, complete the mission, and get the fuck out. Any questions?” When none spoke up, he nodded, bringing their meeting to an end. “Let’s get this shit done. We leave tomorrow.”

  The rest of the day, everyone hustled around finalizing the remaining tasks. The General had come and gone, dropping off the crates of weapons and high tech gadgets as promised. Mac had been welcomed with open arms, and had already stolen the hearts of the entire family. The kids had taken to him immediately, playing with him in the yard until they were all exhausted. Hulk had deemed himself main caretaker of the affectionate dog, and Mac didn’t seem to mind. The duo worked side-by-side when he wasn’t off playing or getting spoiled with treats from the ladies of the house.

  Pop’s wife had ducked out early, finding ‘the dirty smell of the animals’ unbearable for her sensitive daintiness. Which, given by the rant Alaina was still spewing, was a good thing. Vince had defused her enough to keep peace, but Pop had heard the tail end of it. Thankfully, Pop understood and shrugged. “She’s a firecracker in bed. She may be a bitch, can’t cook for shit, and loves spending all my money. But at the end of the day, she makes up for it.” The oldest of the crew propped against the counter sipping a glass of iced tea grinning like a Cheshire cat. Vince cracked up laughing, unable to resist. Pop was usually more of the silent type. It was rare to hear him tell a joke, much less something like this.

  “Does she have a brother?” Vince said between hysterics.

  “Yeah, but trust me. If you think she’s bad, you should see him. He has blown through three trust funds and working on his fourth. Never married, never plans on it. Their mother still cuts the crust off his sandwiches.” Pop wrinkled his face in distaste. To a hard worker who had earned everything in life, it was no surprise he wasn’t keen on his brother-in-law.

  Vince cringed. “Oh no. I need a real man. I’ll stick to the rough and tough cowboys around here, if I can ever find one that rides on my side of the trail.”

  Bella walked up and hugged him. “You will, sweetheart. Once they see how fabulous you are, they’ll be lined up at the door. We just need to get you out more.”

  “I hope you’re right.” He sighed.

  “Have you been to Ropin’ Joe’s yet?” Pop snagged a cookie off the plate as Mrs. Sanders walked by, getting only a grin and playful swat.

  “I have painted this town sparkly and haven’t ever seen it.”

  “It isn’t in town. A few of the locals started it up over twenty years ago. To give more privacy, they built it out in the middle of Joe Brannon’s field. I’m surprised no one told you about it.”

  “I wish I would have known sooner. I was beginning to think there wasn’t a gay man within a hundred miles.”

  “Oh, you’ll be surprised. A lot of the farmers are around here, but aren’t as open as you are. So, they keep to themselves until Friday and Saturday night when they all head down to Joe’s.” Pop finished his tea and set it in the sink, turning for the door. “I gotta get back to work. You should head down there this weekend. Who knows…you might be next in line to tie the knot.”

  “I don’t know about all that…but getting a little action would be nice. I’m beginning to feel like a nun stuck in some sort of honky tonk convent.”

  “Vince, you are the furthest thing from a nun, dear,” Mrs. Sanders chided playfully.

  “Coming from the woman who was sneaking out of the basement at five this morning…” Vince threw back. She laughed, waving him out of the kitchen.

  Vice heaved the last tough box into the back of the truck and cranked the tie downs tight. Tomorrow morning they would be back on the never ending flight, smashed in like sardines in a tin. Unlike commercial flights, there were no windows and the seating was claustrophobic. She would rather be surrounded by insurgents and have no ammo than be shoved in that damn plane again. Heading in to wash up, it was time for the traditional goodbye dinner and dreaded it. Before coming to the ranch, Vice had always welcomed taking off to go do what she did best. Now, she hated leaving everyone. With her emotions already in turmoil, she dreaded the night’s end.

  On her way to the house, she spotted Hulk squatted down with Mac. He looked more at ease than she had seen him in a while. “It looks like he’s as good for you as you are for him.”

  Hulk looked up and actually smiled. It had been a rough last few days for them all, but he seemed to be having the most difficulty getting his head back in the game. Not many had noticed how bad his anxiety had gotten, but Vice did. He was showing more and more signs of PTSD. His temper had gotten so bad he was literally jumping on a reason to blow up. From the bags under his eyes, she would just about put money on him having similar nightmares to what plagued her each night. The thing was, until he was ready to ask for help, there wasn’t much anyone could do.

  Watching the calmness for the first time, she smiled. Hopefully Mac was the prescription he needed. They had all heard how dogs were being used in therapy for soldiers who had battled with PTSD issues. Now, hopefully they would get to see it at work firsthand.

  “Yeah, he is. I hope the flight tomorrow isn’t too hard on him. Hell, it’s all I can do to make it. Maybe we should get the vet to give him some sort of tranquilizer or something.”

  “Rock already took care of it. He got Ambien for the rest of us. I gotta say, I can’t wait. That flight is hell and I’d rather wake up and be on solid ground. It’ll be nice to get a good rest in before we land. Who knows the next time we’ll get a chance to sleep.”

  Hulk let out a huff. “Yeah, but waking up without recollection of where the hell we are or how long we’ve been in the air is scary as fuck. Who’s to say they don’t highjack the plane and fly us to some remote hellhole prison camp or something.”

  “True. But, at least we will be well rested. It’s not like we can’t escape and kill the fuckers who tried. Come on. It’s time for supper. You can worry about whether to take the red pill or the blue pill later.” Hulk rolled his eyes at her lame movie reference but followed her inside.

  Everyone was gathered at the table, waiting for Michael to lead their prayer. Michael and Romeo had grilled steaks, while the women prepared enough fixin's to feed an
army. Ironically, they were feeding a small army. As they bowed their heads, each one went through their own list of things they were grateful for, and asked for protection for what awaited them. On the closing ‘Amen’, all talk about their departure was left unspoken. Instead, the family talked of things to come and reflected on the past. After the dishes had been cleared and the kids put to bed, the adults all took to the living room for a nightcap and to hang out. Vice lounged on the couch in between Juju and Romeo, while the others took up every inch of furniture and the floor.

  “I feel like the meat in a STD sandwich.” She gazed at both of the men beside her and giggled.

  “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Juju asked defensively.

  “It means, I am sitting in between the two biggest manwhores and don’t want to catch the funk.”

  “Well. That’s just insulting. I’ll have you know, we armor the tank before we enter the flank,” Romeo joked.

  “Which makes you the roast between the toast.” Juju laughed.

  Vice rolled her eyes. “Since when did you two turn into Dr. Seuss?”

  “Poetry is a panty dropper.” Romeo grinned.

  “Geeze. Lucky ladies,” Vice said in full snark. She laughed them off, enduring a conversation that led to way more information than she ever wanted to know.

  The room was full of happiness, and great conversation. As Dom looked around, he felt a sense of calmness he hadn’t before. This was what it was all about. Knowing the women needed one last night with their men and none would break up the bonding, Dom stepped up. “Bedtime. Let’s give Alaina and Bella some alone time with their men and call it a night.” He was answered by a round of “Roger” by the soldiers who were giving hugs to Mrs. Sanders, Michael, Vince, Violet, Bella, and Alaina. Tomorrow morning would be hard on them all.