by J. B. Havens
“I’m coming to terms with his death; you need to as well. There is nothing we could have done to change it. Riley betrayed us. He was doing what he thought he had to for his mother, but it was still a betrayal. He paid for it with his life, with Phillips’s life. We have to do our best to accept it and honor their memories by not giving up. We are Steel, Jackson; we have a core within us that allows us to do things others cannot. Phillips had that core; he wouldn’t want us to mourn him. We will put his star up and hold his memory close to us.” I wiped tears from my face, politely turning when Jackson did the same, pretending that I didn’t see them. “We will strap on our weapons, lace up our boots, and bring hellfire down upon our enemies. Just like Phillips would want us to do.”
“You’re right, Bea, you’re right.” Jackson cleared his throat and took another drag from his cigar, picking up and placing his ash tray back by his side.
“Any update on Riley’s mother?” I asked.
“We found her without a problem. I made the call, told her Riley was killed in action protecting his team. He was sent home and I advised a closed casket. I told her that all of her treatments would be paid for, no questions asked. That’s when she shocked the hell out of me, and it brings me to my other point.”
Jackson handed me a folder, a file I hadn’t yet seen. I looked at the name printed on the tab, shock and surprise hitting me upside the head. Riley Matthew, CPL.
“A brother?” I spoke just above a whisper. This would either destroy our team or tie us closer together. It would be a hell of a fight to make the brother of the man who betrayed us a member of Steel.
“No, not a brother. Cousin.” He tapped more ash off, waiting for my response.
“Are you sure?” I met his chocolate eyes. This was insane, so crazy it might just work.
“No, not at all. Read the folder, then get back to me. You’ll see what I saw. Make up your mind sooner rather than later; we have a mission in the works.” He stood, giving me the signal to leave. I drained my beer and walked out. I needed the mountains for this decision. I needed the clean air and solitude. Well, maybe not solitude.
I left Jackson’s and walked to the far cabin. Folder in one hand, Jeep keys in the other, I stomped up the steps, alerting the boys inside to my presence. I knocked out of courtesy; they were after all, a bunch of men prone to walking around in their boxers.
The door opened and green eyes met mine. They crinkled at the corners a bit when he smiled. He was smiling more and more every day. His shoulder was healing nicely, the rest of him following suit.
“Let’s go for a ride, Jordon.” I smiled my best feminine smile. Appreciating the view in front of me, Jordon was in what I had come to learn was his preferred clothes; black loose-fitting shorts, white t-shirt, and flip flops of all things. “Grab your chair.” I walked away, not waiting for his response. I knew he would follow. We had gotten comfortable with each other these past few weeks. Most of the tension was gone, left in the field of blood the night Phillips died.
Jordon and I hadn’t kissed again. Nor had we discussed it. I saw the want in his eyes, the same want reflected in my own. How could it be that one kiss would ignite such a fire in us both? It was a line that couldn’t be crossed. Wouldn’t be. We were friends and friends we would stay.
As we drove up the familiar trail, I allowed myself to look back and remember. There was so much to reflect on. So much I had yet to settle in my mind. After Phillips’s death, we had held a small ceremony for him in the training yard. We stood on the very spot that he died on and remembered him, casting his name into the wind.
“Phillips was a good man and a fine solider. One of the finest I have ever known. He will not be forgotten; his star will hang with honor, looking down on us, reminding us before every mission that he is there with us. We will remember him with every mission we do, we will honor him in every life we save. He wouldn’t want us to mourn him. He would want us smear on paint and to go kick some terrorist ass. He would want us to continue on, to band together, and to do what needs doing. And so we shall. We will rain hellfire down upon our enemies; we will walk tall and stand strong. We are Steel, and we will show Phillips every day that we know exactly what that means.”
When Jackson had finished speaking there wasn’t a dry eye present. Shouts of “Oo-rah” and “Hooah” had shaken the very ground. Each one of us had popped open a beer, pouring some into the grass for Phillips, before slamming them down. We lit a big bon-fire and each of us got falling down drunk. It was a hell of a wake for a hell of a man.
We all awoke in the grass the next day with a renewed sense of purpose, and we would need every bit of our strength. More trouble was coming. The Fernando drug cartel was in ruins, but nature abhors a vacuum. Someone would step up to take its place. Our war was not won in glorious color and reported on every news channel. Our war was fought quietly; sacrifices were made in silence. We held our ground and didn’t give an inch; we fought behind the lines and out of sight. We were Steel.
Epilogue
Later that night I got out of bed, giving up on sleep. I had something to do, something no one knew I did. After every mission, I felt compelled. I tried so hard not to, but I couldn’t bear the strain and I eventually broke.
I dug under my bookcase and retrieved my burner phone; untraceable, undetectable, and available at a retailer near you. I plugged it in and dialed the only number saved in its contacts.
Sitting in the dark, listening to it ring, I chewed my thumb nail. I was so nervous my stomach was doing a great impression of an all-star gymnastics team. After four rings, there was a click and a beep.
Hello, you’ve reached Beatrice Michaels. I’m not available to take your call. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you soon.
Another beep and a faint click. I didn’t say anything for a long moment, just breathing, letting the sound of her voice wash over me.
“Aunt Beatrice, it’s me. I’m okay. Things are good. I love you.” I hung up before I said more, before I told her where I was, before I begged her to see me. We weren’t allowed families, they were too risky. Look what happened with Riley. For the same reasons, I shouldn’t be making these calls.
When we were recruited into Steel, two men in dress uniforms went to visit our families, black shoes shining like mirrors, dread carved into their faces at the news they had to deliver. They told our parents or whoever that we were killed in a training exercise. We used our names here, but we were legally dead. We didn’t exist. Every time I called her, I exposed us both to danger. She was all I had in this world; I couldn’t bear for her to think that I was dead.
About the Author
J.B. Havens lives in rural Pennsylvania, and is a wife and mother of three, a boy and twin girls. She has a love for a good cheesesteak and anything that involves coffee or chocolate. When she’s not caring for her family, she is busy researching and writing her next novel.
Other Books by J.B. Havens
Hardened By Steel
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