by Taylor Lee
Jesse looked down rather than let the General see the pain in her face. She didn’t know how much longer she could hold back the tears burning the backs of her eyelids.
“Hell, Major. If you wish, we can turn this into a media circus. That’s your prerogative. You know the press would eat this up. You would be breaking news on CNN for weeks not days. Two antagonists as attractive as you and the Colonel are? Fuck, Major, the press would be salivating. Those insatiable vultures would pick at your bones until there wasn’t a speck of flesh left. On you or the Colonel.”
The image the General created was all too real. As though an avalanche of crushing rock was hurtling toward her, Jesse cowered in her chair to protect herself from the onslaught. The walls of her chest constricted, making it impossible for her to take a deep breath. She had to rely on tiny sips of air, hoping that she wouldn’t faint from hypoxia.
The general’s voice echoed as if from a distant tunnel.
“If you wish to choose that path—that is your privilege and your right, Jesse.”
Through her blurred vision, Jesse saw General Peters rise and go to the cabinet against the far wall. To her surprise he came back with a bottle of water and pressed it into her hand.
“Drink this.” He stood at her side for a long moment. “That’s an order, Soldier.”
He waited until she had taken a few shaky sips of water then went back to his desk.
“Okay, Jesse. What you just heard was your commanding officer speaking. Now I’m going to say a few things as your friend.”
Jesse looked up in surprise. The strain was absent from Gen. Peters’ face. In its place was concern.
“Jesse, you have had a stellar career. You are a star. You also have been talking to me for over a year about wanting to leave the military, to explore other options. You said you want to settle down, to be close to your son. You’ve been on active duty for 12 years. You’ve received every possible commendation you can. In addition, leaving the Army has been front and center on your mind for a year now.”
Jesse was glad that her voice reflected the indignation she felt.
“Are you asking me to resign, General Peters?”
“No, Jesse, I am not. That’s not my prerogative. What I am asking is if it is something you would consider. Even if I can get the Article 32 knocked down to an Article 15, the real possibility is that you would lose rank, get a reduction in pay and benefits as well as a serious blot on your permanent record. And that’s if you win the case. Unfortunately, because most of your missions have been undercover, they don’t exist. Your lawyers would have a hard time defending you. Certainly not the way the Colonel could defend himself. The best your lawyers could say is that given all your commendations whatever you are doing in this man’s army, you are doing it well.”
The crusty soldier took a deep breath and focused the full force of his commanding personality on her.
“OR, if you choose to leave—as you have been considering for a year—you would go out with your head high.”
Gen. Peters let the silence fill the room. When he spoke, his voice was soft, sincere.
“I would hate to see your impressive record sullied, Jesse.”
As her numbness began to fade, Jesse’s righteous anger flared. She pinned the General with a sharp gaze. Her words were clipped, curt.
“I hear you, General Peters, loud and clear.”
The gray-haired man shook his head with a pained grimace.
“Jesse, I am your commanding officer. But I am also your friend.”
Without requesting permission, Jesse rose to her feet and glared at the imposing man in front of her.
“I don’t need or want friends, Tom. I want supporters, people who believe in me.”
She snapped out a crisp salute.
“Thank you, General Peters, I’ll consider your advice.”
She was halfway to the door when he ordered her to stop.
“No one dismissed you, Major O’Donnell.”
Jesse hesitated, her back to him, refusing to let him see the tears she could no longer control.
His tone was firm, but kind.
“Please don’t think of it as advice, Major. The only advice I’m giving you is that you think hard about what you want to do. What is in your best interest? What is best for you and your future?”
General Peters paused. “Now, Major O’Donnell, you are dismissed.”
Chapter 6
Jesse closed the door to her apartment. She leaned against it striving for the strength to deal with the enormity of the issue and the certain consequences—at least for her. Remembering the General’s cool assessment, she was shattered, stunned. That General Peters knew the truth didn’t help. Gratified that her righteous anger was beginning to surface, she stoked her rage. Everyone in her unit, dammit, everyone in the entire operation knew the Colonel’s reputation. But, then, so did she. For the thousandth time since she’d left Elliott’s hotel room she berated herself. Why in God’s name had she gone to his suite? Put herself in that position? Her actions showed a horrible lack of judgment. Jesse was torn. Her guilt overcame her anger morphing into helpless impotence.
She wallowed in self-pity for a few moments, long enough to strip off her uniform and pull on a pair of sweats. Armed with a bottle of Maker’s Mark and a tall glass she sunk into an overstuffed chair and contemplated her future. It rankled that if she resigned, she would be the fall guy, the patsy. What was that old saw, “in the Army, you’re innocent until investigated.” But Jess reminded herself that she didn’t have to take the fall. She could carry the issue to the highest courts in the land. Like the General said, she could become a public figure and fight it out in the media. Hell, Elliott Caldwell would probably love it. He could portray himself as an elegant self-effacing officer attacked by a drunken subordinate. At least half the country would believe her and half probably wouldn’t. Face it, for the most part no one would really care. And what would she achieve? One less promiscuous asshole in the Army? One less sexual harasser among thousands?
Slamming her eyes shut she tried to blot out the image of the media circus that would ensue. The very idea of becoming a public figure, a television sensation was terrifying, anathema to her essential dignified being. Under her brazen exterior, Jesse was painfully shy, an incredibly private person. It was the reason she was drawn to undercover work. Slipping into the required persona allowed her to act a part, not reveal herself. She shivered knowing that the publicity would destroy her AND she realized with a hard shudder, it would kill her chances of getting custody of her son.
At that moment the universe stepped in. Buried in the pile of unopened mail on the coffee table was a letter from Trey. She ripped it open and the tears that she’d fought since she left Elliott’s hotel suite streamed unheeded down her cheeks. Trey’s letter was short, painfully so. Please, Mom, come and get me or at least come visit. I hate it here. I miss you. Love, Your son, Trey.”
Five months ago Garrett Masters, her former husband, had upped the ante in their long running custody battle for Trey. Because of her uncertain travel schedule and long absences, Garrett had convinced the court to give him primary custody of their fourteen-year-old son. Knowing that he could move anywhere without her permission, Garrett chose Albuquerque, a city miles away from an Army base. The few times Jesse had seen Trey in the last five months were essentially fly-in visits—a couple of days in a hotel suite. Jesse missed Trey desperately and from the tone of his letter he missed her as much.
Regurgitating her angst about letting a promiscuous guy continue to be in the Army, as though there weren’t a lot of promiscuous guys and gals in the force, the question was clear. Was it her business, in her best interest to try to take him down? And, if so, at what cost? Glancing at Trey’s picture, the only adornment in her sparsely furnished apartment, Jesse picked up Trey’s letter and reread it. The poignant words hit her hard. In that moment of clarity she declared that if she was going to fight for something, that someth
ing was her son. As important as it was to confront sexual harassment, the battle for her son was more urgent.
Hell, admit it. General Peters was right. She’d been wrestling with whether to re-up for over a year. She’d had multiple conversations with the General about her future. Sometimes their discussions were official. More often they were personal, in his private study over a glass of bourbon at their home base at Fort Benning, GA. A longtime friend of her father’s, General Peters had treated her like a surrogate daughter. Best of all, they were friends.
In her heart Jesse knew the problem. She was tired, worn out. Tired of the multi-month assignments in far off hellholes. Tired of the undercover roles she played that more often than not required little clothing and a lot of insulting male overtures. As much as she loved the Army and was proud of her work, she was exhausted, burned out. Staring at the picture of her beautiful son who was a carbon copy of her, a niggling image gnawed at her. She feared with good reason that without her influence her son would become more and more like his wealthy pretentious father. Even without Garrett’s penchant for younger and younger women—and more of them—her former husband was a person she didn’t respect or admire. With a shock of recognition, she realized she could have been describing Elliott Caldwell, the man at the center of her latest crisis with undeserving men.
Reaching for her cellphone, she called and made an appointment for the following morning.
~~~
“You’re right, I agree. It’s time for me to leave.”
General Peters gazed at her, his face twisted with undisguised sorrow.
“Hell, Jesse, I’m sorry, but let’s face it. In these kinds of issues everyone gets hurt. One of the least destructive solutions for the force is for one of the parties to resign. I don’t have to tell you that it is usually the lower ranking person.”
Given that protocol was no longer important, Jesse sneered openly.
“As the lower ranking officer who has chosen to resign, I appreciate how important it is for the force. The last thing we would want is for the ‘issue’ to come up and bite the Colonel in the ass. Keep him from rising further and further up the ranks where he will have even more opportunities to flaunt his ‘proclivities.’ “
General Peters flushed. He chose to ignore her insult but took on her assertion that Caldwell was getting off without repercussions. His slate gray eyes flashed ominously.
“Given that I am Colonel Caldwell’s commanding officer, him getting the required recommendations for further promotion will be as likely as tits on a bull.”
His stern expression softened. “Jesse, you know you are going to get another commendation for that last mission and a healthy bonus—”
Jesse broke in, not hiding the bitterness she felt. “Thanks, Tom, that means a lot,” She spat sarcastically.
The burly man frowned, apparently deciding that her insults were unacceptable and a return to protocol was required.
“Major, you know that you need to meet with the JAG team to sign the non-disclosure agreement they drew up.” When Jesse nodded impatiently, he added, “After you take care of the formalities, I hope you will stop in to say good-bye. Perhaps we can still raise a glass of Makers Mark to a better door opening as this one closes.”
Jesse shook her head and pressed her lips in a firm line to keep them from trembling. Blinking back the tears that were threatening to fall, she tipped up her chin and managed to keep her voice cool and professional.
“No, General Peters. Let’s make this our good-bye.”
The General frowned and Jesse saw the pain flash in his eyes then disappear, replaced by stony acceptance.
“You’re right, Major O’Donnell—as usual.” He pushed back from his desk, rose to his feet and extended his hand. Clasping hers in both of his, the General’s expression was solemn. “I wish you the best, Jesse. It’s been my privilege to be your commander, and I hope, your friend. Good-bye and Godspeed.”
Chapter 7
“Jesus, Jess, you have no idea how happy I am to hear what you’ve decided.”
Eric Gardner’s voice in her cell phone rang with excitement. The most cheerful lawyer Jesse had ever known, was now practically giddy.
“This will make my life so much easier.” Her counselor’s tone darkened. “Garrett is serious, Jesse. He’s fucking loaded for bear. From what his lawyer intimated to me, Garrett plans to file for full custody.”
Jesse couldn’t hide her shock.
“My God, Eric. Can that happen?”
“It’s unlikely especially if you get your cute butt back here AND out of the Army. The picture you present now will be totally different than before. The court is always more inclined to favor a 50/50 arrangement. But that’s hard as hell to defend when you’re gone for weeks, sometimes months at a time, and moreover that you can’t tell anyone where you are. Even when you’re a national hero, gone is gone is gone. Face it, sweetheart, it will be a lot easier to contest Garrett’s suit if you are here in Albuquerque, not in some godforsaken hole across the world.”
At Jesse’s audible sigh, Eric barreled on.
“Look, Jesse, hang in there. Given your schedule you have been in Trey’s life as much as you possibly could. And, damn, the kid is crazy about you. Proud as he can be that his mother is a decorated Major in the U.S. Army.”
“Was a decorated Major in the U. S. Army,” Jesse corrected.
“No, Jesse, don’t do that to yourself. You made the only decision you could. I’m speaking as a lawyer, one who’s dealt with more than a few JAG officers. Even without the custody battle, you did the only thing you could. Your General was correct. A media circus was a given and your chances of winning was equivalent to taking a knife to a gun fight. But the chances of that asshole of a former husband using the incident to prove once again your unworthiness to be a mother? Hell, babe, he would have been champing at the bit.”
Jesse knew Eric was correct. Garret despised her. Even though they’d divorced years ago, he’d been furious that she was the one who left. He wasn’t accustomed to losing anything—even a wife he didn’t particularly want. Rather than fading as hers had, Garrett’s animosity had grown over the years. Fighting for custody of Trey was one of his favorite sports. It was like sex for him. A game of winners and losers and as he always said, he didn’t lose anything worth having.
Further attempting to cheer her up, Eric was fulsome, his excitement contagious.
“Albuquerque is a great city, Jess. You’ll like it. It’s got a history. With a mix of Spanish, Mexican and Western cultures, it’s more cosmopolitan than many people realize. I’ve got a terrific practice here. I’ll connect you with important people –the makers and shakers of this surprisingly forward-looking burg.
“Speaking of hooking you up, what do you plan to do for a living?”
Jesse couldn’t resist poking at him.
“Oh, I don’t know, Eric. Probably what I’ve done for the last 10 years.”
Knowing the nature if not the particulars of Jesse’s undercover work, Eric guffawed.
“Hell, babe, don’t know if we’re that forward thinking. Not sure that kind of ‘work’ will go over well with our city’s elite.”
Jesse laughed. “I’m teasing you, Eric. But in a way, I’m serious about the nature of my work. I plan to do what a lot of my Special Operative friends do when they leave the military.
I’m going to create a private security firm.”
Eric’s question betrayed his concern. “You mean, you want to be a PI, a private investigator? Detective O’Donnell, gumshoe?”
“No, that’s not what I mean. I plan to provide high level protective services for people who need it. And frankly, people who can pay for it. My sweet spot will be private security for important people who don’t want to be surrounded by goons with guns.” She laughed. “My guns will be less visible—hidden in more unusual places.”
After she and Eric laughed at the possibilities, Jesse continued. “I want to work with peo
ple who appreciate what I bring to the table. Not the least of which is my knowledge of every weapon known to man and black belts in four Martial Arts disciplines. It also doesn’t hurt that I am smart, accomplished and let’s face it, beautiful. I can fit into elite situations, Eric. Run with the best of them.”
Jesse marveled at her bravado. Even though she’d been thinking about this strategy for several years, saying it out loud—as if it truly were possible, scared Jesse to death.
Eric was thrilled. “Damn Jesse, that’s a hell of an idea. You’re describing my clientele. I’ll be pleased to introduce you. Four of my most important clients come immediately to mind.” He added with a chuckle, “Does it matter if some of them are on the shady side?”
Jesse’s laugh was genuine.
“Hardly. I’ve been off the grid for so long I have a hard time knowing where it begins and where it ends.”
“Great. Seriously, Jesse, this is a ten stroke. I definitely can introduce you to potential clients. Given your skills you can reel them in. Best of all, we can make a stronger case for custody before the court. If you have a business, a professional occupation, the court will acknowledge and appreciate that.”
~~~
Buoyed by her conversation with Eric and the knowledge she would soon see Trey, Jesse made plans to meet with members of her unit who were based in the UK. The American soldiers were a close knit group, currently part of the Allied Rapid Reaction Corps. Many of them had worked together for years in missions across the globe. Jesse was one of the few officers and one of only two female members of their highly secret unit.
By the time she’d arrived, the other members –all male—had done their reputations proud and made a happy man of the pub owner. Jesse made do with a large glass of Wild Turkey Tradition, her favorite. After several hours, many drinks, and several hilarious stories from their shared missions, the mission leader Sergeant Major White banged on the table for order.