Carolina Breeze, #1

by Tamika Brown

  He continued, “I’m not closing down or pulling way or all that other shit guys usually do when things get serious.”

  And a small smile formed on her lips as he studied her beautiful face.

  “I’m not leaving because of what you said.” The tension left her shoulders, her brow relaxing, and her eyes became less pleading than before.

  “But I thought you had another week of recuperation. What about your shoulder? You’re not ready for active duty.” The excuses kept pouring from her lips while tears welled in her eyes as she tried to soak up the fact he was truly leaving her.

  Calen couldn’t bear to see her this way. Up until this point, she had been sassy and fiery; he didn’t expect her to take it so hard. He pulled her to his massive chest to calm her fears. Shayla’s legs trembled, and she sagged against him. “It’s going to be all right. I’ve got my training to fall back on. Besides, when this is all over, we’ll meet each other again. Don’t worry about that.” He stroked her hair and kissed her temple. “I’ve got to tell you, though, while I’m on this mission, don’t try to contact me.”

  She tried to stifle her gasp. He knew the deadpan and direct way in which he said it was a stark contrast to the way he gently stroked her back and held her flush to his chest. He pulled back and gently cupped her cheek to show it was not meant to be harsh. He clarified his statement.

  “You won’t be able to reach me or be able to obtain any information about me because of the confidentiality. But I’ll call you as soon as I reach Fort Bragg and any chance I get, okay?”

  She released a breath and shook her head. They exchanged one last kiss before Calen forced himself to turn and walk out her villa door and, possibly, her life, forever.

  Shayla awoke four hours later to her cell phone ringing. She had a huge headache, and the rims of her eyes were sore and felt puffy. She remembered she cried for an hour after Calen left. She gazed at the ID on her phone and answered.

  Her heart stopped when Calen’s voice tickled her ear. “Hey, did I wake you?”

  “No, I must’ve just drifted off for a little while. I’m glad you called.” She tried to choke back tears. Shayla could make out a lot of commotion in the background; it almost sounded like a war zone. Clearly preparing and assembling equipment.

  “I just wanted to let you know I made it back to Bragg safely. I wanted to hear your voice again.”

  “Look what I said tonight—”

  He cut her off. “Don’t worry about it.” Silence filled the line between them. “I have to go, I just wanted to call you. Take care of yourself. I’ll call when I can. Bye.”

  And just like that he hung up, and her tears started all over again.

  8

  Shayla

  Ten in the morning. Time to get up. She automatically called Tela. She got her on the fourth ring.

  “Hey girl, haven’t heard from you, things must be going well. Are you gettin’ a lot of action?” Her friend teased.

  But when she opened her mouth to answer Tela’s question, a sob of despair released, and she rattled off last night’s events. “Te, he’s gone. He left, and I may never see him again. He was called back to duty.” The tears fell profusely as she listened intently, waiting for the stable advice she knew her friend would give her.

  Her friend tried to calm her. “Oh, honey, what happened? Are you okay?”

  “Tela, I swear, everything was going great.” She sniffled. “We were getting to know each other, spending time together. Doing couple things.”

  She paused. She was contemplating on telling Tela everything. She knew Tela’s philosophy on men. She wasn’t about the monogamous life but had never been opposed to Shayla wanting a relationship. She certainly wouldn’t start now.

  “Shayla, are you still there?”

  Shayla was reminded of the fact Calen never let on how he felt about her. After a deep sigh and a hiccup, she continued, “I’m still here. Tela, I told him I loved him.”

  The slight intake of breath over the line told her she surprised her friend with her confession. She didn’t readily give her heart to a man. Not after all the failed relationships she squeezed in building her career. She didn’t have the time or the energy to deal with some of the mixed signals.

  Being the true friend she was, Tela tried to encourage Shayla, to calm her fears. This is why they were best friends. Encouragement was something Tela did ever since they met in high school. “Shay, it’s gonna be okay. I’m pretty sure he feels the same way about you. He’s a man, girl! You know it takes them a while to grasp da concept.” She chuckled.

  Shayla couldn’t help but try to smile through the tears. Tela had a tendency to pull a smile from her no matter what the circumstance.

  “Besides, from what you told me, he was already in soldier mode, so he probably wasn’t even thinking about it. Probably already focused on what his next steps should be, what would help with his mission,” her friend debated.

  She meditated on what Tela proposed, could somewhat see her point, but still was difficult to handle.

  “Yeah, but when he called me back, I tried to tell him I didn’t mean what I said. He told me not to worry about it. What does that mean? ‘Not to worry about it.’ Tela, he has me all twisted. You know me! I don’t let men get to me like this,” she said through her sobs.

  As always, Tela made Shayla see reason. “Give him some time and a little slack Shay, he has a lot on his plate right now.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just overreacting. I know he has a job to do, and it definitely has nothing to do with me.” She began to feel a little better about the situation.

  “It’s okay, sometimes these things happen. If you love him, then just love him. It’s better to admit it and embrace it. Better to do that than to deny it, then worry about it all the time,” Tela finished.

  “You know what? You’re right, Tela. You are absolutely right. I’m reading too much into this,” she resolved.

  Funny thing was, Tela was right about most things having to do with relationships even though she wasn’t in a steady relationship herself.

  She and Tela said their goodbyes, and Shayla decided finally to get up. She wouldn’t waste another second feeling sorry for herself. She had only one more day on the Banks, and she was going to try to make the most of it.

  CALEN

  Calen hung up the phone. He should have told her how he felt, but he really didn’t know if he was ready for what their relationship would become if he told her. Revealing himself to her was something he needed to steer away from. The last time he did something like that, he got burned. He didn’t want to make the mistake again.

  In addition, it would mean he would worry about someone else instead of the task at hand. He had been in a situation like that before, and he really didn’t like how it caused him to lose focus. He couldn’t put his men in that kind of danger.

  He couldn’t subject her to that. He wouldn’t. He cared for her too much.

  With the mission on the horizon, he needed to make sure he had a clear head, free of distraction. He shouldn’t have even called her when he reached Fort Bragg, but he didn’t want to lie to her. Calen missed her already.

  He could tell she had been crying, and she was sad. He could hear it in her voice. The way her breath hitched when she tried to explain her reasoning to him. He could hear her sniffle over the line, and it tore his heart to pieces. He hated he was the one who made her cry since she was embarrassed about letting him know her feelings and emotions. He didn’t even let her finish her apology; she had done nothing that warranted an apology. At least, she had the courage to tell him her feelings. He couldn’t even get his feelings out. He was too afraid.

  Too afraid he would lose control of the situation.

  He liked to have a handle on the happenings in his life. This situation with Shayla was spinning out-of-control way too fast for him.

  One of his men came over to him for a brief on the situation.

  They walked towa
rd the room where the whole team would meet in ten minutes for a group briefing from his commander.

  As they reached the conference room, the team began to assemble around the room, sitting in the waiting chairs and giving their attention to the man that stood before them, Sergeant Major Russell.

  Russell was a military legacy. All the men in his family had served, and some of them were still on active duty. In his family, people were raised to eat, breathe, and sleep serving. Calen knew from casual conversations with Russell that the military was never off the table for him. Since the age of six, serving was what he knew he would do. A duty to his family and his country.

  Calen knew he and his team were in good hands under Russell. He never gave it to them any other way but straight. That’s why he was not only Calen’s commanding officer, but he was also a good friend.

  “All right, guys, let’s settle down and get started.” All the men found their seats and focused their attention on Russell. “You are going to Afghanistan. I wanna caution you about this area where you’re going”—he pointed to the map on the screen behind him—“usually takes heavy fire on most days. It’s one of the most active places in this war zone.”

  “So what’re our orders, sir?” Calen asked.

  “An extraction and assassination.” He paused and looked at the elite team assembled around the room. He continued, “We’ve got new intelligence on Khaleel al-Rashid. I don’t have to tell you what he’s done. You’ve all read the reports and the target is in his camp.”

  “Target, sir?” David Bryce, Calen’s best friend and a member of his unit, asked.

  “A U.S. official. He’s being held hostage, and he is of great importance to our government’s foreign policy negotiations. Because of his importance, we’re hoping we’ll get lucky, al-Rashid will be there as well.”

  “And if he is there, sir?”

  “Take him down.” The finality in his voice left no doubt in Calen’s mind that they needed this mission to go smoothly.

  Russell gave way to Calen.

  He stood to address his men and his friends. “This is a routine mission, men. One that we’ve done hundreds of times.”

  He did these types of things all the time, but he hadn’t had a bullet put through his shoulder before either or had two men cut down. His confidence never wavered before, and it certainly wouldn’t now.

  His commander searched his eyes for any trepidation. “You ready?”

  No words; Calen just nodded and turned to his unit. “Let’s gear up.”

  With that, they raced to the plane that waited to take the unit on the almost fifteen-hour flight to Afghanistan.

  The war zone was just as he remembered all those weeks ago.

  In some places, it was breathtakingly beautiful. He remembered the way the sun would look going down on the horizon with those majestic Afghan mountains in the background. The hues of purple and orange lit up the sky. And in others, total devastation, destruction, and death.

  Those same beautiful hues, beautiful enough to be a painting, turned into shades of red. Red like blood covering the streets after a bomb aimed at foreign soldiers detonated when they entered a village.

  The memories of his last stint in Afghanistan came rushing back, and he instinctively grabbed his wounded shoulder. The break was just what he needed. His shoulder healed nicely; however, the memory of what happened would always be with him. But he couldn’t dwell on the past. What happened to him—water under the bridge. He wouldn’t reflect on his misfortune or what went wrong back then; he did not have time. The only thing he could do was learn from the mistakes to ensure it doesn’t happen again. He searched his men’s faces, everyone ready to disembark the helicopter that brought them safely and silently to their landing site in a clearing not far from the compound where the mission was held.

  Silently, he and his men gradually stalked their target. They fanned out, each going to their designated areas, and waited for the signal from Calen.

  The house they encountered wasn’t what Calen and his men expected. The pictures from the report were a little fuzzy and didn’t quite reveal a clear picture of the house. They were used to run-of-the-mill shacks, dilapidated. You wouldn’t think anyone lived there. Typical safe houses, not very noticeable or kept well, but this house, this one was…

  It was majestic with lavish carvings and woodwork, grand windows, and brickwork. A lovely rose garden began on the left side of the house and wound around to the back with white, yellow, and pink roses displayed like splotches of paint on a canvas cradled by calla lilies and crape myrtles which seemed to empty into a spraying fountain.

  Definitely not what they expected.

  Heavily guarded, their first task was to take out the five guards surrounding the camp. Assuming nothing goes wrong, it should be quick and easy.

  He blew out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He’d never been nervous on a mission before, but after the last one that cost him the lives of two men and a bullet in his shoulder, he couldn’t help the trepidation.

  He gave the signal, “Go.” They were a well-oiled machine. Each man took up his position. When the opportunity arose, each took their assigned target out with precision and professionalism. The enemy didn’t even have the chance to fire not one shot off.

  That just left the two guards in the room with the target.

  From the back of the house, two of Calen’s best men, Bryce and Page, went in with him and found a door slightly ajar, wide enough to see a man tied to a chair to the left of the room. Two men in the room guarded him. Calen looked at both men, confirming they both were vigilant.

  They had found their government official.

  Karl Kenberry, US Ambassador to Afghanistan. He was blindfolded, but it was him. He and his men had studied enough photos of him, to recognize him anywhere, regardless.

  Calen signaled for Bryce to cover his six and for Page to be ready to move in when he pushed the door back.

  One, Two, Three, Calen mouthed and signed with his fingers.

  With one swift motion, Calen pushed the door in, then entered to take the guard out. The other guard turned his rifle to the commotion in the room. Stunned, the shot he managed to get off slammed into the door frame. Page took him out.

  No other guards were present, surprising to Calen. He imagined there would have been more.

  Calen didn’t have time to contemplate. They had to move fast.

  Calen rushed over to Ambassador Kenberry and untied him.

  “Is there anyone else in the house, sir?” he asked, removing the blindfold and moving to his ankles tied to the chair.

  “I don’t know. I’ve been locked up in here blindfolded. I did hear multiple voices in the hall and people pacing the floors, beyond that, I don’t know.”

  Calen motioned for Page to help the ambassador to his feet.

  “Do you know if they are still here, sir?” Calen held up his fist, the signal to stop as they began to move into the hallway. He wanted to make sure there were no surprises.

  “I don’t know, but I think they’re planning something big, though. I caught pieces of the conversation between the guards. They’re waiting for someone to show up.”

  Satisfied that his second target, the general, was still present, but no time to ponder over him, they moved the Ambassador down the hall and out the door.

  Page rushed the Ambassador outside to where Hodge waited to take him to the extraction point.

  So far this is going off without a hitch, except for the nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach, Calen thought as he headed for his target to assassinate.

  Turning left down a long corridor, Calen came to a room he believed held his target. It was simple. Kick the door in, fire, then ask questions later.

  But something didn’t sit right with Calen. Something else about this was off; it all seemed a little too easy to him.

  Using a hand signal, he relayed to his remaining man to double back and go around, he would take a look around
first.

  As Calen began his own descent back down the corridor, he perceived a ticking sound he could not place. Maybe a clock on the wall. But as he came up on the staircase he had passed earlier, a wire ran under the very last step. His heart raced as he approached the contraption with caution.

  A bomb and the clock read eight seconds. He had no time to disarm it.

  Running full speed the remainder of the way, he yelled to his unit, “Get out now! It’s a bomb! It’s a bomb!”

  Calen ran down the corridor and just reached the entryway when the bomb went off.

  The force from the blast sent Calen airborne. He landed several yards away from the opening of the building into one of the rose bushes he admired when they came in. He laid, stunned with ringing in his ears. He slowly began to rise one knee at a time. A twinge of pain lanced through the shoulder he thought was well healed. He grabbed it but continued to help his men up. He and his remaining men didn’t have time to revel in their narrow escape. Thankfully, all were accounted for, but it could have been the other way. They had to get out of there, and fast. That blast would be seen and heard by people from miles away.

  They hustled to the point, the predetermined spot to meet with the chopper to head home. They were cautious as well as vigilant, making their way back to the area where the chopper landed.

  A lot of things could go wrong at the point. Calen just hoped the explosion wouldn’t cause too much of a deterrent. If so, they would have to move quickly.

  The US Ambassador was already at the point. As he and his men came into view, the chopper waited to take them out of harm’s way and on their way back home.

  So far so good, no one followed them.

  They climbed into the chopper, and it lifted into the night sky. As they flew over the mountains, Calen concentrated on everything that happened with the mission. He tried to replay exact steps and words, everything that happened, in his head. He didn’t want to really believe what he thought to be true.