by Tl Reeve
“Dismissed,” O’Malley grumbled in his raspy voice.
O'Malley needed to get laid, plain and simple. The growly bastard needed to let off a little steam, instead of holding it in. Once Noah had Mateo back, he'd talk to the other guys about arranging a trip to Banger’s, a local strip club that had a back room where, if someone slipped certain strippers some extra cash under the table, they were willing to either fuck or suck a guy or girl off. Not that he ever partook in the females who worked there. He’d always been an equal opportunity lover. It never mattered to him if it was a guy or girl. If they had a connection, they had it, but he hadn’t had pussy since a year before his first date with Mateo.
O’Malley glanced up at Noah, and he took that time to give the team’s 2IC the finger before making his way down the hallway toward the elevator banks. The bastard’s strained laugh followed him down the hall.
Asshole.
Smacking the button for the elevator, he waited, allowing himself to stew a little longer. O’Malley had a way of getting under his skin. Rewind that, O’Malley had been getting under everyone’s skin for a while now. It only seemed to get worse since Rae arrived at their home base and ended up in a relationship with Asher. When the elevator dinged and the doors opened, Noah stepped in, hitting the button for their living quarters.
It was a quick ride. But even in the short amount of time, he formed a semi-level response to the text sent to him. He strode down the hall to his room, passing the door to Asher’s one-time living quarters. Since the second week of Rae’s arrival, they’d been in the family wing of the base. Better for them. At least he didn’t have to hear them screwing every night—not that he’d be an asshole and say anything. He was happy for Asher. At least one of them was getting the happily ever after. Him.... Shit, when Mateo found out, he’d probably leave Noah’s lying ass. He’d deserve it, too.
Noah ran his card over the scanner to the right of the door. When the light turned green, the locking mechanism disengaged, and he entered his room. Since South America, he’d hated the damn room. To be honest, he was jealous of Asher and Rae. They were together. He...he saw Mateo when he didn’t have a job to do.
He frowned.
Next to his bed, was a single framed picture of him and Mateo on their wedding day. Both of them had been dressed in freshly pressed jeans and a white dress shirt. Mateo, or Mattie as he often called his significate other, was the light to his dark. Standing a few inches shorter than Noah's six-foot-two height, Mateo was lean, built like a swimmer, while Noah had the bulky muscular form. His body was more suited to be a linebacker on a football team or a trained Navy SEAL.
Noah crossed to his desk, he pulled the chair out and sat down before he fiddled with his phone to set it up. Once he recorded the message, he’d forward it to Murray—shit—Scotty to touch it up and get it all ready. It went against who and what he was to give in to the demands of some fucked up bastard, nevertheless, he wouldn't put Mateo at risk to save his own ego.
Leaning forward, he hit record.
He could see his face in the camera, his eyes dark and filled with rage, yet his features were devoid of any emotions.
“You made a mistake taking Mateo. One I'm going to make you pay dearly for. You don't fuck with R.O.O.T, and you don't fuck with what belongs to us. I hope you're ready, asshole, because I'm coming for you. And I won't miss.” He sneered at the camera, releasing every bit of anger he'd felt building since he got the text Mateo was taken. “Don't worry, though, I'll make sure it hurts like a motherfucker.” Content with the short but sweet recording, Noah hit stop and sent the video to Scotty with a note, letting him know to not to release it until the breach.
Noah rolled his neck and sighed when the bones cracked, releasing some of the tension. He sat there for a moment more, then went to his metal closet. At the bottom of it, sat his go-bag. The well-worn strap attached the canvas satchel which had been through many missions with him. It’d also saved his life. Noah ran his finger over the metal closure. Had he not draped it over his stomach while on a trek through the mountains of Afghanistan, he’d have been gut shot. He’d have bled out before the team could get him evac’d. Noah gave it one more cursory glance before he slung it over his shoulder. Then he snatched his phone off of the desk and headed out.
Being by himself for an extended period of time, never did anything for his mental stability. Missions with his SEAL team were different. He could disconnect from the emotional aspects of his duties while concentrating on the neutralizing a certain target. For him, as ugly as it sounded, they were the enemy, they weren't a soul meant to save, and they sure as fuck wouldn't hesitate to kill him. This time, though, he had to make considerations for Mateo. This time, he couldn't be reckless.
After stopping by the ammunition locker, Noah made his way toward the outside hanger away from bases entrances, where they kept the birds.
Two of the grounds crew members were in the middle of rolling the large, stealth helicopter out onto the well-maintained pad, while the others waited off to the side, probably going over the plan for the nth time. Since Asher was going on this mission, Noah knew his Commander would be in the pilot seat, and Callahan would co-pilot with Asher. He’d have to wait for another opportunity to get his hands on the big, black metal bird. While the others were occupied, Noah took a moment to help the grounds crew get the bird staged for takeoff.
Noah pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his bag. He debated lighting for all of two seconds. Rae, though he wouldn’t say it to her face, was right. He had a bad habit. The cigarettes weren’t good for him, and they probably didn’t soothe his nerves one bit. He stared at the green box and sighed.
Fuck it.
He placed one between his lips, then grabbed his lighter. If Mateo was found, Noah promised himself the smoke between his lips would be the last one. With a flick of his thumb, the flame burst from his lighter, and he placed it to the tip of the cancer stick. Noah inhaled deeply. A hint of mint, chocolate, and coffee floated across his taste buds. The smoke moved into his lungs. He held it there for a count of ten then let it out. The second the nicotine hit his bloodstream; a sense of calm washed over Noah.
“Rae catches you doing that again, she’s going to have your ass.” Asher approached him along with the other members of the team.
Noah glanced over his shoulder at Asher. Like Noah, his commander sported his dark green and black fatigues. His face had been covered in green and black paint, blending him into the night sky. Once they were in the air, Noah would cover his face as well, so he’d be camouflaged by the darkness.
“Last one,” he said before tossing the bud onto the ground, snubbing it out with the toe of his reinforced steel-toe boot.
Asher snorted. “I’ve heard all this before, Noah.”
“Mean it this time,” he promised.
Asher nodded. “Bet me; for every cigarette you're caught smoking, you'll run five clicks while carrying a weight of war.” A weight of war was what soldiers and Marines carried in Iraq and Afghanistan, weighing between sixty to one hundred pounds. It provided everything they needed to survive in such hostile environments.
“Fucker,” Noah mumbled, not caring if Asher heard him.
“Scared?” Asher prodded.
“Fuck no.” Problem was, Asher and the entire team knew Noah couldn’t turn down a bet. “Deal.” They didn’t shake on it. They didn’t have to do. All of them were men of honor and of their word.
Asher’s features turned deadly serious. “You okay?”
He nodded. What exactly does okay mean in this situation?
“When this is done, you and Mateo are going to take all of the leave you’ve got coming to you. Understand?”
“Asher—”
“It’s an order, Noah,” Asher declared. “Mateo has no clue about the full complexity of your career, does he?”
Noah shook his head. Mateo knew Noah had served in the military at one point, but that was about it.
Asher gla
red at him. “Idiot. Although, I figured as much. Mateo might not handle the news of your job as well as you hope. Get your fucking house in order.”
“Is that an order, too?”
“Damn right, it is. Our team depends on your skill set to keep us safe. I need your head on straight during your missions, not worrying about your husband.” Asher spun on his heels and strode back to the bird, leaving Noah to chew on his commander’s words.
Noah followed.
When Franks and Callahan joined them moments later, Asher went over his pre-flight checks, then the sleek bird was lifting off, heading toward the coordinates Scotty had provided. The helicopter cut a swath through the night sky. The silence was almost deafening, yet amazing while being terrifying. If they’d inclined to do so, Noah could have carried on a conversation with everyone without using a headset.
No sooner had they taken off; they were landing in an empty field. No one said a word as they got off the chopper and humped it to the warehouse. Thanks to Asher’s uncle going to bat for them, they’d all received a pair of night vision contacts to use instead of the clunky helmet and gear. Once everything went dark, the world around Noah lit up in shades of green, allowing him to maneuver without impediment. Noah put his hand on Frank’s shoulder as they cut a path through the empty downtown streets of Richmond.
Over the Tac-Com device in their ears, O’Malley was giving the Commander updates, thanks to the eyes in the sky, while also barking at Asher about some bullshit they didn’t need to worry about while on the ground.
They stopped when they reached the cluster of trees fifty feet from the main point of entry. Even though Richmond was near the water, there were also areas of dense vegetation. It gave them a great area of cover. Since Callahan had to climb up to the roof of the building adjacent to where they'd be making an entrance, Noah and the team continued to make sure no one was coming or going from the warehouse.
It hadn’t been long before Callahan said, “I’m set, boss. There is nothing stirring. You’re good to go.”
Asher gave the signal, and they double-timed it to the barred door. Noah snatched the bolt cutters from his pack before handing them over to Asher. As quiet as a mouse he clipped the chains while he and Franks held the chain, so it didn’t drop to the ground, making a noise.
They were professionals, after all.
Opening the door, which thankfully didn’t make a sound, they cleared the area as they moved into the warehouse, one by one. Asher was in the lead, followed by Noah, with Franks bring up the rear.
Callahan called out instructions and complaints as they climbed the stairs, taking it a section at a time. Noah didn’t say a word. He’d done the same while on sniper duty. It was a way to let the ground team know they were alive, keeping them safe.
Asher raised his fist, calling a halt to their forward progress. Raising one finger, Asher pointed off the right, letting them know he spotted or heard something. Sure enough, a tall, slightly overweight male came around the corner with Mateo as a shield.
The kidnapper called out, “I know you’re here. I’m not fucking stupid. I had the entire warehouse wired, and you stupid assholes tripped it when you walked through the door.”
The distinct sound of the safety being turned off filled the warehouse. Noah couldn’t see him, but he was sure the motherfucker had a gun pointed directly at his husband’s head.
“Cocksucker,” he hissed in a toneless whisper.
Asher grunted as he gestured to the big window over the door they’d just come in through. During the day, Noah was sure it allowed a massive amount of natural light into the structure. Now though, it would allow the sniper up in the other building visibility, and when it was clear, Drew could take the shot. “Need him to come a little closer so Callahan can cover.”
Noah nodded, then holstered his weapon before he stepped out of the darkness of their cover. His movement so quick and sure, Asher never gave a second thought to stop him.
Mateo. Noah took a minute to examine his partner. Mateo appeared a bit shaken and roughed up. His clothes were dirty, his shirt had several rips in. No doubt from his better half struggling, or even fighting off the other guy. Dried blood covered the right side of his face, thanks to a cut near his brow.
The kidnapper kept his gun pressed to Mateo’s temple. His hand trembled ever so slightly as he narrowed his eyes, staring a hole through Noah. “Which one are you?”
“The one you want.” Noah kept his tone even, and his stance relaxed. SEALS and R.O.O.T’s training prevented him from giving his true name outright. It also gave the illusion of being non-lethal when he was anything but.
“Noah Hanover,” the other man said, his voice filled with glee. “Where’s the rest of your team?”
Noah held his hands out, keeping his gaze on the guy with the gun. “It’s just me.”
“Bullshit. I know better.”
Noah shrugged, keeping his pose non-threatening. “Nah, man, you don’t. I can follow directions. You said don’t contact anyone, and I didn’t. You weren’t really hard to locate, and if you already know my name, you know my training. I’m more than capable of finding you on my own.”
“Come closer,” he demanded.
If his calculations were correct, and let’s be honest, they always were, Noah needed the other man to take five steps closer, giving Callahan his target. Continuing with his Joe cool act, he told the other guy. “Nah, man, that’s not going to happen. I’ll trade myself for Mateo. But I won’t allow you to take both of us.”
“How’d R.O.O.T feel about one of its best, willingly making himself a hostage?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care.”
Silence filled the large space. Noah could feel Asher coming up behind him. He’d lay bets his commander was pissed the hell off that Noah had placed himself in such a predicament.
Mateo moaned. His gaze flickered briefly to Noah. Those dark brown eyes, with honey flecks, swirled with questions and confusion.
“We doing this or what?” Noah snapped.
The guy took one step, then another and stopped. Come on, motherfucker. Three more steps. Just three.
“Is this a trick?”
“Nope. I’d never risk Mateo,” he stated. He trusted his team explicitly and knew he had to get this asshole three more steps before Callahan could take the shot.
The kidnapper shifted, moving forward like a sloth.
Callahan whispered, “Two more.”
Noah held his breath as the man took the two much-needed steps before he removed the gun from Mateo’s temple and pointed it at him.
What a dumbass. Noah, thanks to some innate sense, reacted the moment Callahan fired. The glass in the window exploded as the high-speed bullet slammed into the hand holding the gun. The man screamed in agony, going down like a sack of rotten potatoes.
Noah closed the distance between him and the man, picking up the gun the asshole dropped. He dumped the clip, then cleared the chamber making the gun nothing more than a glorified paperweight. Asher whistled to him, and Noah tossed him the gun.
Noah turned his attention to Mateo, who was standing off to the side. His gaze had been locked on the fucker, who’d kidnapped him, writhing on the ground. The man clenched his hand, crying like a baby. Unlike Mateo, Noah was used to seeing what happens when a bullet impacts a body part. Plus, he damn well knew the shot went right through. Wasn’t like the bullet was still lodged in hand.
Now that would hurt.
Noah curled his lip in disgust. “Pussy.” He walked past the man to gather a dazed Mateo into his arms. Asher and Franks would take care of the trash since he wasn't going anywhere for a while. “Babe, you okay?”
His normally chatty other-half was silent. His rigid form didn’t relax in Noah’s arms, and Mateo wouldn’t look at him, instead choosing something in the distance over Noah’s shoulder. “Come on, babe. Talk to me.” If Mateo didn’t at least say Noah’s name, there’d been no way for Franks to assess him, and if need be, ge
t transport to the nearest hospital. Noah cupped his husband’s chin, pulling his attention back to him. This time, his tone was a bit more forceful, needing to crack through whatever shock Mateo was experiencing. “Babe, you need to tell me if you’re okay or not?”
“Where is our scumbag?” Asher barked.
“Right there!” Noah gestured to the now vacated spot where the man had been laying. “Fuck, Asher. He was right there. Cradling his hand, sobbing like a newborn.” Fuck... Maybe O'Malley was right. He'd been too emotionally involved. Other than disarming the suspect, he had counted on Asher and Franks to secure the enemy, even though he should've before moving to his spouse.
Asher relayed orders to Callahan. If it’d been Noah, he’d be climbing down to cover the exits. If the asshole got out, Callahan would be there. However, there was a chance the guy was still in the building.
“Checking now,” Callahan snarled. “Sneaky bastard.”
“What the hell are you wearing, Noah? And what is all over your face?” Mateo demanded, bringing his attention back to his spouse. Mateo dragged his finger down Noah’s cheek and stared at the green and black paint. “Is this paint... On your face?”
Noah huffed out a breath, irritated with Mateo for not telling him he was okay. “Yeah, and I’m wearing fatigues.” Not really what they called them, but Noah knew Mateo would understand that term since it was so well known in the civilian world. “Now answer my goddamn question, Mattie. Are you okay?”
Mateo cocked a brow at him in defiance. Noah’s dick hardened behind the zipper of his ACU’s. He didn’t know if he wanted to kiss and hold his husband for the rest of the night, or take Mateo over his knee and spank his ass.
Asher snorted. “Could be wrong, Hanover, but he sounds fine to me.”
Noah agreed, but he still needed to hear the words directly from his spouses’ mouth, and he needed to find out if they were successful in recapturing the asshole who took the love of his life. “Mattie—”
“I’m fine, Noah, other than a killer headache and this.” Mateo gestured to the cut at his hairline.
