Corps Justice Boxed Set: Books 1-3: Back to War, Council of Patriots, Prime Asset - Military Thrillers
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“Back to War”
“Council of Patriots”
“Prime Asset”
Books 1-3 of The Corps Justice Series
Author: C. G. Cooper
Editor (“Prime Asset”): Karen Rought
Copyright © 2012-2013 Corps Justice. All Rights Reserved
(http://www.CorpsJustice.com)
>> GET ANY CORPS JUSTICE NOVEL FOR FREE JUST FOR SUBSCRIBING AT HTTP://CORPSJUSTICE.COM <<
These are works of fiction. Characters, names, locations and events are all products of the author’s imagination. Any similarities to actual events or real persons are completely coincidental.
Warning: This story is intended for mature audiences and contains profanity and violence.
Dedications
To my wife Katie for listening to all my crazy ideas. I love you.
In Memory of Lieutenant General Charles G. Cooper, USMC (Ret).
To our troops serving in harm’s way: God bless and thank you for your service.
“Back to War” Table of Contents
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25
“Council of Patriots” Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5 | CHAPTER 6 | CHAPTER 7 | CHAPTER 8 | CHAPTER 9 | CHAPTER 10 | CHAPTER 11 | CHAPTER 12 | CHAPTER 13 | CHAPTER 14 | CHAPTER 15 | CHAPTER 16 | CHAPTER 17 | CHAPTER 18 | CHAPTER 19 | CHAPTER 20 | CHAPTER 21 | CHAPTER 22 | CHAPTER 23 | CHAPTER 24 | CHAPTER 25 | CHAPTER 26 | CHAPTER 27 | CHAPTER 28 | CHAPTER 29 | CHAPTER 30 | CHAPTER 31 | CHAPTER 32 | CHAPTER 33 | CHAPTER 34 | CHAPTER 35 | CHAPTER 36 | CHAPTER 37 | CHAPTER 38 | CHAPTER 39 | CHAPTER 40 | CHAPTER 41 | CHAPTER 42 | CHAPTER 43 | EPILOGUE
“Prime Asset” Table of Contents
Episode 1
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14
Episode 2
Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28
Episode 3
Chapter 29 | Chapter 30 | Chapter 31 | Chapter 32 | Chapter 33 | Chapter 34 | Chapter 35 | Chapter 36 | Chapter 37 | Chapter 38 | Chapter 39 | Chapter 40 | Chapter 41 | Chapter 42 | Chapter 43
Formatting Note: Book 1 (“Back To War”) contains formatting that blends screenplay dialogue in with the normal paragraph form. Books 2 & 3 have normal formatting.
Chapter 1
Second Avenue, Downtown Nashville, Tennessee
The gang members remained hidden as they watched the young couple from the third story window of the parking garage a block away. The couple was blissfully unaware of the five observers. Why should they worry? They were in the middle of the busy downtown nightlife. Police were present and the crowd flowed smoothly along the packed sidewalks.
The tallest of the gang, a thirty-something black man with a short Mohawk and a pencil-thin goatee looked down at his latest recruit.
DANTE: You ready to do this thing?
The young recruit looked no more than fifteen. His hazel green eyes were in stark contrast with his three-inch afro. He wore an oversized t-shirt with the New Orleans Saints logo plastered from front to back. His huge jeans were sagging and obviously way too big for his skinny frame. He looked like the prototype wannabe gangster.
SHORTY: Yeah. I’m ready.
He was visibly nervous but vibrating with excitement. His drug-induced adrenaline kick was in full effect and he was ready to go. This would be the final step before his induction into the small yet growing gang whose roots began in the hoods of New Orleans but were transplanted during Hurricane Katrina to the confines of Nashville.
The young couple they continued to track was chosen for one simple reason: they were white.
Most other gangs chose a less public criminal act for their young recruits. N.O.N. (New Orleans Nashville) had a special reason for choosing the outwardly normal pair. Although typically a subtle crew, their leader, Dante West, believed that the root of all the suffering he and his extended family had endured during the aftermath of Katrina was the fault of the white majority. Sure there had been decent white folks who had helped with food and transportation, but his resentment was bred through the constant bombardment of the race-filled preaching of fellow gang leaders. Shit. Hadn’t that badass rapper even said that the president hated black people?
He believed his own gang now thrived because of two things: profitability and hate. Yes, Dante thought, that anger and emotion would help him grow N.O.N. to the size of some of the local Hispanic gangs. Also, Dante’s cunning and expertise would further his expansion of N.O.N. The initiation ritual was the one deviation from his otherwise underground organization.
Dante looked down at his four brothers.
DANTE: Now remember what I told you. Shorty takes the first hits. We only jump in if he starts getting his ass kicked.
The other members laughed as Shorty spit out a nervous chuckle.
SHORTY: I ain’t gonna get my ass whooped, Dante. That white boy is gonna get his ass whooped.
DANTE: I know, I know. You just do this thing right and tonight we’ll get you some pussy and champagne.
Shorty nodded and pulled out the slim tools he’d brought for the night’s work: an eight inch buck knife and a metal mallet he’d picked up at a local hardware store. He took an awkward swing with the mallet and a quick stab with the knife. He was ready.
DANTE: Shorty, remember what we told you. You’re not gonna kill ‘em. Just hurt ‘em both real good so they remember never to fuck with us.
Shorty made a disgusted face like he hated being talked down to.
SHORTY: Shit, Dante, I ain’t stupid. Just let me do this thing so I can get me some.
Dante nodded and waved his newest recruit toward the stairwell. They let Shorty get a decent lead and then hit street level themselves. Always within sight, he was easy to spot in his black and gold attire.
They continued to follow as Shorty closed the distance between himself and the young couple. He could now make out their features. The young man wore a pair of faded but stylish jeans and one of those plaid cowboy shirts that were popular. The man looked to be in his twenties, just shy of six feet, and walked with a casual air. He had a medium build. Nothing special. His light brown hair was short and slightly spiked in the front. He looked like a ton of other white boys Shorty saw everyday at school. The young man smiled as he talked to the girl whose hand he was holding.
The girl also had light brown hair that she wore straight and that hung just past her shoulders. She was attractive and looked athletic. She wore jeans and a form-fitting pink t-shirt. Again, nothing over the top amazing, just normal.
Shorty gauged the distance between himself, the couple, and the alley Dante had appointed as the jump spot. He was twenty feet from the couple. The man and woman were fifty feet from the alley. The time was almost right.
As the couple nearly reached the small alley, Shorty quickly closed the distance. The plan was to grab the girl and pull her into the alley. The boyfriend would, of course, follow and try to get her back. Meanwhile, the rest of D
ante’s crew would close in and seal off the end of the alley and shield the scene from potential onlookers. It would sound and look like the normal post-bar brawls that were common on a night in downtown Nashville.
He could see his soon-to-be gang brothers approaching. It was time to act.
Shorty closed the remaining distance, wrapped his right arm around the waist of the young woman and pulled her into the small alley. She screamed to her boyfriend.
JESSICA: Cal!
Shorty kept a wary eye on the boyfriend and was surprised to see the young man already following.
Not a problem. His boys would take care of him.
Shorty pulled the struggling girl farther into the alley and threw her down then turned and extracted his weapons, preparing for the approaching boyfriend.
The young man was five feet away and had a look on his face that Shorty wasn’t expecting. Shorty thought the young man would be scared shitless. Instead, his pursuer looked stone cold determined without the smallest trace of fear. What the fuck? Shorty thought.
As the final foot between them closed, Shorty swung at the man with an overhand chop. The young man ignored the mallet and rushed full steam into his attacker. Both men fell to the ground with the new recruit exposed on the bottom.
Shorty quickly felt the man’s hands gripping his head and the man’s thumbs found his eyes. This motherfucker is gonna take out my eyes! thought a now frantic Shorty.
What Shorty couldn’t know what that the young man had realized the trap, although too late, when he glimpsed the remaining gang members block the opening to the alley. His one chance was a full-on frontal assault. Take out the first man, and then see if he could deal with the rest. In the meantime, hopefully his new fiancé could get away and find help.
The man continued to apply pressure as Shorty dropped both weapons and scrambled to free himself. Too late. The would-be victim ripped out both eyeballs as Shorty wailed and clawed at his now empty eye sockets.
The young man grabbed the weapons and hopped back to his feet.
One down, thought Cal. He had seen and done worse on the battlefields of Afghanistan. Then it was for his country and the survival of his Marines, now it was for the well being of his new fiancé. Fuck, he thought.
As he turned to the alley entrance, the remaining gang members closed to within striking distance. Two moved towards Jessica and Dante and another approached the young man.
DANTE: You shouldn’t have done that to Shorty, boy. Now you’re gonna get something from me.
Dante withdrew a shiny silver handgun from his coat pocket and pointed it at Jessica.
CAL: You point that thing at me mother fucker. You wanna fuck with someone, fuck with me.
DANTE: Ok, boy…
He swiveled the weapon back to the young man.
DANTE: I’ll fuck with you now.
Dante leveled the gun back to the girl and fired four shots into her body.
CAL: No!
Cal screamed in defiance and with the knife leading, he ran the five feet and jumped on the gangbanger closest to his now immobile fiancé. The knife plunged into the chest of his target just as Cal brought the heavy mallet down on top of the man’s head.
As the man fell to the ground, Cal planted his feet, pivoted right and backhanded the third gang member in the side of the face with the mallet. He followed the third crew member’s descent and with a deep knife slash across the man’s neck. Blood shot up like a geyser and immediately coated Cal’s face and chest as he bent over the now dying man.
He turned back to Dante with a look of total bloodlust and charged. In his mind he knew that unless he took out these last two men, his fiancé would die. That could not happen. How had he survived multiple tours and numerous wounds in the war-torn lands of Afghanistan only to fall prey to these men?
Although his mind raged, his mission remained clear: Kill the enemy.
As the gap between them closed, Dante fired his remaining rounds at the battle-raged young man. Six of the eight shots went wide because Dante was suddenly unnerved by the skill of this ‘normal’ white boy. The last two shots hit their target only because the final distance was a mere two feet. One round hit the young man in the chest and one in the shoulder.
Still, the young man managed to grab hold of Dante and take him to the ground. A blood-soaked Cal head-butted Dante two times in the nose before the only other remaining gang member pulled him off.
As he was being heaved away, Cal tried to turn and face his newest attacker. Instead, he fumbled with the blood-drenched weapons and staggered back. With his strength fading and the pain from his two bullet wounds increasing, the young man’s mind started to fog. Focus, dammit!
He shook his head and turned to see the fourth gang member. What he wouldn’t give to have his pistol right now. Gotta make do, he thought.
Not without effort, he hefted the now excruciatingly heavy mallet and heaved it at the fourth man. Instead of watching whether the mallet hit its target, Cal followed right behind, knife blade leading, bowling over his target while plunging the blade into the man’s gut.
The man squirmed, screamed and struggled to get away from his attacker. Cal left the gutted gang member and turned to look for Dante. The fearless leader was now half-staggering and half-running toward the opposite end of the alley, glancing over his shoulder as he retreated.
Cal suddenly noticed the presence of a quickly growing crowd at the entrance of the alley. He stumbled for a step and fell to his hands and knees.
CAL: Jessica!
He screamed as he crawled towards his fiancé, who was now lying in a large pool of blood.
CAL: Jess!
He reached her side and painfully pulled himself so that his face was next to hers. Her eyes were strangely clear as she looked at him. He’d seen people die in war and by the look of her wounds, he was sure Jessica was on her way.
CAL (whispering): Hey, baby. It’s gonna be ok.
JESS (smiling and barely audible): Don’t you lie to me, Cal. You know I always know when you lie.
CAL: Ok, Jess, but I’m here with you.
JESS: I love you, Cal. I love…
CAL: Jess? Jess!
Her breathing stopped and her eyes lost their spark. Cal’s world stopped. Nothing mattered anymore. As he faded to blackness, his thoughts were of Jessica and war. Two things he needed and could never seem to avoid.
Chapter 2
Images swirled in Cal’s mind. The dry air of the open desert. Bloody comrades screaming for help. Friends, family, enemies… Jessica in a blue gown at the Marine Corps Ball. Jessica walking down the Lawn at the University of Virginia. Jessica crying as he slipped the sparkling engagement ring on her finger. Jessica breathing her last breath. Jessica, Jessica, Jess…
Vanderbilt University Hospital, Intensive Care Unit, Nashville, TN
Cal Stokes tried to open. He could tell they were swollen by the effort it took. Finally they cracked open. Where am I?
Slowly and with no small difficulty, he tried to focus on his surroundings. He was obviously in a hospital. The writing on the door looked like a grayish blob, so he decided he’d figure out the particulars later.
He remembered the attack in the alley. He remembered Jess dying. The pain in his heart returned.
When he thought about that last moment with his dead fiancé, he tried to focus on her beautiful face and her tranquil eyes. He’d always felt that her eyes were what really did him in that first night they’d met six years before. Those beautiful eyes would always haunt him.
As he pondered his misery, the door swung open and a young Hispanic guy in scrubs walked in.
BRIAN: I see you’re awake. How you feeling, Staff Sergeant?
Ignoring the question and the comment about his prior military rank, Cal answered with a croak.
CAL: Where am I?
BRIAN: They brought you to Vandy after the attack. You were pretty beat up. Haven’t seen anything like that since Iraq.
As he
talked, the nurse busied himself by taking notes from the machines in the room.
CAL: How long have I been here?
BRIAN: About a week. You were full of holes and in critical condition. You got lucky, though. The bullets missed anything vital. No permanent damage, mostly blood loss. By the looks of your other scars, this isn’t the first time you’ve been in a hospital. The docs wanted to keep you sedated for a bit so your body could heal.
CAL: When can I leave?
BRIAN (chuckling): Just like a Marine. Staff Sergeant, you’re not going anywhere for a few days. Why don’t you kick back and let us pamper you?
As the nurse continued around the room in a practiced routine of checks and rechecks, Cal wondered how they’d found out about his military service. I guess you can find pretty much anything on the Internet these days. I’ve gotta get out of here and talk to Jess’s parents.