Phoenix (The Bellator Saga Book 4)

by Cecilia London

  “I know.” He looked down at the gun on the ledge in front of her. “Is that-?”

  “Sure is. Thanks for bringing it here. Very handy.”

  Jack pursed his lips. “I’m not sure I want you handling that.”

  “And why not?”

  “Because of what it almost did to you.”

  Fuck his patriarchal protectiveness. “All the more reason to use it.”

  “You don’t need a weapon that large anyway,” he said. “You’re much more skilled with a .40 or a 9mm.”

  He was always good at mansplaining. “I am aware of my own abilities, thank you.”

  “So why use that gun?”

  Caroline continued to load the magazine. If she did her best to ignore him, maybe he’d take the hint and go away. “If I’m ever in a situation where this weapon is my only option, I want to feel comfortable with it. Is that all right with you?”

  “You’ll have your own handgun issued to you at the end of training.” Jack paused. “We have plenty of firearms that are better suited to your capabilities.”

  Had he been listening to her at all? “That’s not the point.”

  He sighed. “It almost flew out of your hands when you fired it at me the other day.”

  “I wasn’t firing at you. And it did not.”

  “I saw it. Remember?”

  Caroline slid the magazine back into place. “Oh, fuck you.”

  “Nothing to be ashamed of,” he said. “I don’t like having guns like that around. It gives the guys too many ideas.”

  If he wasn’t going to leave, she could pump him for information. “Are soldiers able to select their own sidearms?”

  “Usually,” Jack said. “Unless there’s some reason a chosen firearm is inappropriate.”

  “The ones with tiny dicks pick the big ones, right?”

  He laughed. “You’re going to extend your theory about Buchanan to every other man on this base?”

  “Just an observation. Might not be based in truth.”

  He smiled at her. “It might be.”

  Her husband was trying to play nice and she wanted him to leave her alone. How many hints did he need? “What kind of gun do you have?”

  The smile faded. “I have a Glock in my apartment. I’m sure you’d recognize it if you saw it. I have our inventory at my disposal, if I need anything else.”

  Interesting how she and her friends had to turn over their weapons but he hadn’t been held to the same standard. “You don’t carry?”

  He eyed the Desert Eagle again. “Should I arm myself to be safe?”

  She shrugged. “Your call.”

  “I was kidding,” he said. “You seem to have lost your intuition when it comes to such things.”

  So had he, since he hadn’t caught the hint to leave. Maybe she needed to hint a little harder. “You sure you want to test my temper right now? I’m armed and you’re not.”

  “You’d never shoot me.”

  His confidence was…interesting, to say the least. “I asked Maier for a gray haired target and he said we didn’t have any.”

  “That was at my request. People around here can use their imaginations, but I’d rather not see them pointing a gun at a target that looks a little too much like someone they don’t like. Especially if it happens to be me. Silhouettes only.” Jack looked down the range. “How’s your aim?”

  “I’ve done better.”

  He glanced at the almost empty box of bullets. “You’re almost out of ammo. Once it’s gone, you should call it a day. You’re going to need to save up your energy for training next week.”

  “Is that the real reason you came to the range? To tell me what I already knew?”

  Jack had done a good job of holding his own temper in check. She gave him credit for that. Still, she didn’t expect that shadow to cross his face. “I’m not allowed to simply talk to you?” he asked.

  She put the gun down and crossed her arms. “No.”

  “You need to make a decision, Caroline,” Jack said. “Whether you want to be with me or whether you really do want to be treated as another soldier.”

  Ah, the reason for his visit to the range became clear. “There’s a difference in the end result?”

  “Don’t be a smartass. If you don’t want to do this hand in hand with me, you’re going to have to accept that you’ll be held to a different standard. We don’t just let anyone in here. Everyone has to go through the same training and complete it properly.”

  He thought she couldn’t handle the tough shit. Showed how much he knew. Had he gotten a deferral of some sort? “Did you go through it?”

  Jack held back a tiny grin. “No,” he said. “I’m special.”

  Cocky bastard. “How nice for you.”

  “You could be special too, if you’d stop being so stubborn.”

  Caroline cracked her neck and straightened her shoulders. He thought she’d back out if given the chance. No fucking way. “I want to be treated like everybody else. I’m willing to go through the training.”

  “It’s pretty intense,” he said.

  “You think I can’t handle it?”

  “I didn’t say that. I just…you don’t have to do this. Whatever you’re trying to prove, it’s not necessary.”

  She had everything to prove. “I’m just another recruit. Don’t forget it, either.”

  “Caroline-”

  “And stop stalking me,” she said. “It’s annoying. I hope you told the training staff no special treatment.”

  “I made that perfectly clear. No exceptions save for the limitations placed upon you by your injuries.”

  She could only imagine how that conversation had gone, if the advisors she’d already met were involved. “Good.”

  He paused, glancing at the gun again. “I hope you do well, Caroline,” he said. “Correction – I know you’ll do well.”

  All that was missing from that pretty little speech was a paternalistic pat on the head. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she said, turning around and putting her ear protection on, not bothering to watch as he left the stall.

  * * * * *

  Jack didn’t dread his meetings with his advisors, but he didn’t exactly look forward to them. His perspective and priorities had changed over the past year and any day he survived was considered a minor victory. But he always enjoyed hearing about how soldiers were doing. Each new class meant fresh ideas, dedicated minds, and an increased opportunity to do all the things he and Caroline had set out to do when Santos first led the government astray.

  Caroline. She was a recruit now. A trainee. She’d put in a few weeks with her friends and a few other men, and today was the first update from her trainers. Major Keith Flaherty was as close to a right hand man as Jack had. The man did everything – he covered all aspects of military strategy, oversaw the eight week training program, and did any other number of things that Jack couldn’t quite fathom. He wondered if the man slept. And if the man didn’t sleep, Jack wondered if he’d tell him the trick to staying focused and alert. He’d be more than happy to keep his dark thoughts at bay by staying awake 24 hours a day.

  Jack trusted Flaherty and his other advisors. In return they gave him their loyalty. They’d made comments here and there, whispered among themselves…and he knew they held opinions they didn’t feel comfortable sharing with him.

  Flaherty would be honest, would verbalize his concerns when the other men wouldn’t. Jack was mildly curious about how his wife was doing in basic training. Even though she was avoiding him like the plague, he caught glances of her when he could. Saw some of the exercises from afar, as he always did during the first four weeks.

  Jack had built Caroline up and so had the movement, and since she was there in the flesh it was hard not to feel at least one way or the other about her. Some myths weren’t too far from the truth but others could be quite distant. He knew she had her issues, knew that there was a good chance she shouldn’t even be in training, knew she needed a
counselor or a doctor or a something they couldn’t provide…but could she hack it when held to the same standard as the other men? After Flaherty covered the basics, Jack jumped in.

  “How is Candidate Gerard performing?” he asked.

  Flaherty cleared his throat. “Sir, I could discuss the other soldiers first, if that-”

  Jack should have known. Even his biggest ally wouldn’t want to wade into those waters right away. He should have warmed him up a little beforehand. “How’s the class as a whole?”

  The other man smiled. “They’re all doing quite well. I wanted to see if you were willing to indulge me before I got to the difficult topics.”

  Protocol. Jack tried to observe protocol. But things got a little fast and loose when it was just him and his advisors in the room. “You made your point. Just tell me about Caroline.”

  “Well, she-” Flaherty cleared his throat again. “Frankly, sir, I don’t-”

  “Pretend I don't know her,” Jack said. “Pretend she's another recruit about whom I know absolutely nothing. What would you say to me?”

  The major didn’t hesitate. “She has excelled at every assignment she’s been given. Outstanding leadership aptitude. A firm grasp of the objectives of the operation. Her skills in hand to hand combat are rough but effective. And she’s a damn fine shot.”

  That was more than Jack had expected. Maybe he needed to have a little more faith in her. Maybe her issues weren’t that pronounced. “Anything else?”

  “She is able to connect with almost any soldier, regardless of rank. Makes them feel at ease.” Flaherty stared down at the table. “With the possible exception of the man in charge.”

  There was the honesty he expected, and right on cue. “We’ll worry about that later,” Jack said. “It’s time to focus on the second half of training. On the specialized assignments.”

  “I’ve considered that, sir.”

  Flaherty judged his recruits by their demeanor, their behavior, and their other intangible qualities. Though he gave them standardized tests and conducted interviews, very little of what he did was based on any sort of formula. The man was as esoteric as it came in his decision making, and was rarely wrong.

  “What’s your verdict?” Jack asked, before realizing he needed to clarify. “With regard to Candidate Gerard?”

  “She is a capable candidate who needs a challenge. To be quite honest, she should be sitting at this table with us.”

  He wasn't quite ready for that. Not when she shot daggers at him every time he got anywhere near her. “What kind of challenge would that be?”

  “Kitchen duty.”

  Jack tried not to laugh. Talk about the oldest trick in the stereotypical military playbook. Did Flaherty want to punish or reward her? Maybe his esoteric interpretations were lightly coated in bias. “She can't cook,” he said.

  Flaherty clasped his hands together. Jack must have said the magic words. “All the better,” he said. “She's made it clear the kind of assignment she wants, the kind she'd be good at. See how she responds when you throw her into a situation where she has to work harder than she normally would.”

  Caroline was indeed a hard worker but she’d been able to skate by on a lot of things too. Having an assignment she loathed would keep her focused. Driven. And a little angry. She'd both hate it and love it. The idea had merit. And the best part was he hadn't even come up with it.

  “Let’s do that,” Jack said. “Make your assignments and get these recruits on the way to full, active duty.”

  * * * * *

  The past few weeks of training had been simple enough. Caroline and the guys were split up and partnered with a few other recruits in two separate units. Maybe the tide was turning when it came to expanding the rebellion’s ranks. Caroline, Jones, Crunch, and Gig were with a guy named Sherman, while Gabe was shuffled off with the others. She couldn’t help but wonder if that had been an intentional decision, perhaps from someone higher up than her trainers.

  Caroline took to their day to day routine easily despite her initially tenuous relationship with Major Flaherty and the drill sergeant assigned to her unit; training reminded her of sparring with Crunch in the basement of the safe house in D.C. She could handle direction easily and felt most at peace when she was occupied. The time they spent in a classroom was minimal, which was good since she relished being in the California sun, fatigues and all.

  She had friends in ROTC in college, spent time on military bases and knew limited protocol from her time in Congress, but much of it was new to her. She concentrated on strategy, anticipating the enemy’s moves, learning to hone her self-defense skills even further. Once a slow runner who hated doing pushups, she excelled at PT and easily covered the minimum passing requirements on the first day. Trudging around on the base, engaging in hypothetical combat scenarios, improving her aim at the range and in the field…she had finally found something to distract her from everything else in her life.

  She came home every evening exhausted and was able to enjoy a few well-rested nights. Never in the dark, of course. That fear still remained, which was why she made sure she had a pack of spare lightbulbs in the nightstand. Complete darkness was a huge no-no, and multiple nightlights were her constant evening companion.

  But those dreamless sleeps were wonderful. When she wasn’t plagued by images of the people she’d lost, the people she’d hurt, the people she’d left behind. She pressed her painful memories to the side and let herself pass out on the bed, sometimes not even pausing to take off her uniform.

  Caroline would then start the process over the next day. As the first few weeks progressed, Flaherty gave her increased responsibility in the unit, occasionally nodded approvingly at her, even threw her a compliment once or twice. She almost felt normal, though she would often imagine the ghosts of the past tapping on her shoulder. But she was too tired to acknowledge them.

  Was she winning Flaherty over? She couldn’t figure any of these men out. She’d spent most of her life getting by on her charisma but had no more to give. All she had was her work ethic and a fucking ax to grind. And grind she did, with nary a smile or a flip comment. She took the same approach she had in Congress, minus the enigmatic engagement. She shut up and did her damn job.

  Her pleasure in training was short-lived, however. She was placed on an officer track as expected given her educational background, but her MOS was something else entirely. When Flaherty handed her the assignment she’d have for the next four weeks, she shook her head.

  “The cafeteria?” she said. “Is this a joke?”

  He didn’t smile. His compliments had been limited to her time on the range and in the field. “Do you have a problem, Candidate Gerard?”

  They’d never given her the results of her tests, but her aptitude for anything involving food preparation was a major stretch. “I’m not skilled in that particular area.”

  “I have faith in you,” Flaherty said. “Given everything else you’ve done so far, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

  Caroline knew who’d had a hand in this decision. Dare she ask? Was it worth the risk? “I was hoping for something a little more…aggressive. Like the infantry.”

  Flaherty smiled with a professional detachment she’d come to recognize over the past month. “We are well aware of your ability to destroy all objects within your reach.”

  And yet she, the only woman in the class, had been assigned to the cafeteria. She’d choose to believe him, for now. He and the other majors played things so close to the vest that she never knew what was legitimate and what was a test. The rebellion had tricks to weed the players from the fakers. She could get through four more weeks. Then she’d be free and clear and would hopefully be given a permanent assignment better suited to her skill set.

  “All right,” she said. “When do I start?”

  Chapter Nine

  Caroline showed up at the cafeteria in the early morning hours, since she’d been instructed to help with breakfast. She knew there wa
s a decent sized staff that made sure that everyone got fed every day, but had no idea of the complexities of the system until she was given a chance to look around.

  Sergeant Cedric Boone oversaw a crew of thirty men and was in charge of all of the food preparation. He was quite surprised that Caroline had been assigned to him and practically bowed when she shook his hand.

  “It’s an honor,” he said.

  Funny, he was one of the few people she believed when they said stuff like that. Caroline patted his shoulder. “You haven’t seen me cook yet.”

  He laughed. “I got no idea why they’re making you slum around here but we’ll make the best of it.”

  She spent the morning peeling potatoes, only because she finally convinced him she could handle it. That it wouldn’t bother her to do, as he put it, the shit work. He seemed happy to have her there but remained concerned that her skills weren’t being utilized properly.

  Yeah. She’d figured that out too. She suspected Boone knew as well as she why she’d been assigned to him. Though time consuming, food prep made the hours pass quickly. As the weeks passed she shared baking tips with him, helped him perfect cookie recipes, and allowed herself to enjoy the experience. It was yet another avenue she could pursue without having to think about heavy stuff. There were deadlines and rules and procedures that had to be followed or the day’s tasks wouldn’t be accomplished. His kitchen staff was likable, efficient, and innovative.

  Boone was a native of Chicago, so they had plenty to talk about. He wandered west once he graduated from high school, hoping to catch on wherever he could – a food truck, a restaurant, anywhere anyone would take him. He’d been running his own barbecue and blues joint in L.A. when the United States went to shit. It took a split second for him to decide to join the rebellion, regardless of what he was giving up. His sister ran his restaurant while he ladled soup to officers and enlisted men who had no clue about his background. Probably because they’d never bothered to ask.

  Caroline wondered if Jack and his advisors knew how much work went into keeping a few hundred hungry soldiers fed on a daily basis. Though she’d been doing a spectacular job of shunning him, she’d catch him stealing glances at her in the hallways or as she walked across the base. He’d never engage, not even when she grabbed Gabe’s hand as the two of them passed him on the way to the commissary. An unnecessarily cruel gesture, yet she’d done it without a second thought.