by Laura Acton
“So, his reason is valid. Danny drowned. He can hold his breath for at least five minutes which means his impending death was slow and terrifying.”
Blaze’s head dropped to his hands as he tried to comprehend the emotional toll Blondie suffered for five chilling minutes, cognizant his next breath meant certain death. Holy crap. Blondie’s been through too much, too damned much. The kid definitely possesses a rational and compelling basis for being petrified of water. This is no willy-nilly irrational anxiety.
A surge of fatherly protectiveness enveloped Blaze as he lifted his head. “Blondie’s secret is safe with me. I will not even let on to him I am aware. You are right in Blondie has taken too many hits to his ego recently. To tell you the truth, that is the main reason I agreed to his idea to go in all cocky and refuse to perform for Panin. We all recognize he is capable, but Blondie needed to accept the fact for himself.
“I’ll talk to Patch, and without divulging why I’ll ask if we can up the dosage a bit more. Depending on the conditions, perhaps we can keep him more sedated and rig a safety line between the yacht and plane to transfer Blondie without him being wholly aware of his surroundings. I give you my word we will get him safely to the seaplane.”
Blaze grinned. “It is nothing more or less than I would do for any member of my unit. And that includes you, Brody. And since we’re disclosing secrets, let me tell you … I’m aware flying isn’t your favorite activity. Blondie never shuts up on flights.
“At first, I assumed Blondie suffered aerophobia and talking helped him cope, but on the flight over the Wakhan Corridor when we crashed, as you gripped his thigh, I realized he attempted to decrease your distress. Whenever possible, I now steer our transport away from airplanes … helos don’t appear to affect you as much. I promise we’ll set your feet safe on the ground, too.”
Staggered to learn Blaze perceived his apprehension and he restructured conditions which made him anxious, Brody’s jaw went slack, his eyes fixed on Blaze’s, and his brows raised. No one but Dan ever went to such lengths for him. Hell, his father would have laughed in his face. But Blaze … he took care of him … and he never even realized.
Having difficulty comprehending and believing anyone other than Danny would do this for him, Brody stammered, “You actually modified our mission transport just for me?”
The expression of disbelief on Brody’s face stunned Blaze. Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised … Brody experienced a brutal childhood. Witnessing his father murder his mother, and being beaten to a pulp by the asshole, created the shields Brody wears. Brody only began opening up and sharing his past in the aftermath of his attempt to end his life while Blondie was MIA.
Learning about Brody’s horrific childhood shocked the entire unit. Though, Brody’s history and attempted suicide made clear to them why Brody and Blondie bonded so strongly. Until joining this unit, Brody undoubtedly never experienced anyone except Blondie caring about him.
Blaze remained grateful he and Ripsaw entered the tent when they did that day. Otherwise, they would’ve lost Brody. Brody’s breakdown was a deciding factor to go rogue and disobey orders to find Blondie. Blaze understood his decision in all probability saved both Blondie and Brody.
However, in the past months, the unit focused on Blondie’s needs, and Blaze forgot Brody needed support too. Brody kept them all in the light with his music and talk of the beauty of life. But when all is said and done, who illuminates Brody’s path? Does Brody grasp his importance and that he is as worthy of our affection and care as Blondie?
Unsure he made his sentiments clear, Blaze decided it was high-time he ensured Brody recognized his value. “Yes, Brody, I did. Several times as a matter of fact. You are important and we are all concerned for your well-being.
“Keeping everyone safe while we complete our missions is part of my job. But I do it because I care about each of you, not because it’s my duty. If I must modify something to support one of my men, I adapt the conditions if I can. Water will be less of an issue in the desert than planes. But now that I know Blondie’s phobia, I can actively work to mitigate the risk in future missions just as I endeavor to reduce flying due to your anxiety.”
Astounded at finding this out, Brody only stared at his lieutenant. Blaze is the best damned CO in Special Forces. Danny and I lucked out being assigned to his unit. A bit overwhelmed Brody said with sincerity, “Thank you.”
Blaze arched a brow and shook his head. “There is no need to thank me. We are a Guardian unit … we share a common thread which links us … we are all protectors at the core.” He stood and said, “Speaking of which, we’ve left Blondie unattended too long. Let’s head back. I want you to catch a few more winks, we all must be at our best for exfil.”
Brody rose, and Blaze swung an arm around his shoulder as he said, “You are an honorable man, Brody Mikhail Hunter. Blondie is lucky to have you as a brother. I’m blessed to have you as a friend and proud to call you brother too. I understand revealing confidential pieces of your past is complicated and challenging, change always is. I’m grateful you put your doubts and fears aside.
“Moving forward I hope you are receptive to communicating items which will assist me in ensuring yours and Blondie’s welfare. I want to be your co-pilot in keeping both of you from crashing and burning. And quite frankly, Blondie needs every guardian angel he can get watching over him. Together we will safeguard Blondie while he protects us.”
They strolled down the hall together. Both lost in thought, which if they could read minds, they would be surprised to discover were identical with only one exception, their reference to Dan. As much as (my brother … my son) needs us to keep him from harm, we need him to cover our six. We depend on one another to come out of each mission whole and alive. As brothers in arms our deeds, words, and solidarity forge eternal bonds.
Luxury and Laughter
57
June 1
Al Sattar Palace – Guest Suite – 9:30 a.m.
Panin woke and languidly stretched in the comfortable bed. He slept late, loving living in the lap of luxury while pretending to grieve along with Fakhir’s family. They refused to discuss business with him until today … observing three days of mourning as required by their religion.
Although, he managed to drop hints in many conversations as he dined with them in the past few days. Never giving specifics, more or less alluding to his plan to set up a club where men could indulge their desires without fear of what others might think of their appetites. The crown prince seemed to understand without him being direct. From that, Panin deduced Ifran must enjoy the same predilection as Fakhir when the man didn’t flinch at his inferences.
Rising, Panin lumbered towards the bathroom. His suite appeared to be outfitted for visiting heads of state and royalty. The room contained every amenity he coveted. In addition to the spacious, well-appointed bedroom, with a separate sitting area which opened to a patio with a view of the Gulf of Oman, the chambers possessed an enormous, extravagant spa. The whirlpool tub held up to four. The entire ceiling in the walk-in shower rained down water and boasted body jets on three sides. The bathing area also contained a dry sauna, a colorfully tiled steam room, and a cold plunge.
Panin preferred the steamy bath because they pipped in the fragrance of myrrh, with notes of ginger, cinnamon, and cloves. He stopped to shove a handful of candied dates into his mouth and noisily chewed as he stripped off the designer pajamas provided to him. After grabbing a bath sheet and water bottle, he settled his increased girth on the tiled bench. Leaning back, Panin closed his eyes and smiled as the vapor wafted around him. The life of a prince is what I deserve.
Al Sattar Palace – Security Room – 9:35 a.m.
Ifran stood observing the depraved, narcissistic blob on the monitor as he did each morning. Though today he allowed a slight smile to grace his face. He motioned to the guard sitting at the controls, and the man flicked a switch. Panin would have no clue his life was about to change.
; A tiny jet at the bottom of the wall began to emit a hiss indistinguishable from the other steam jets. Ifran viewed Panin inhaling deeply for several minutes, unaware something new came with the scent. When Savelievich slumped over, unconscious, and rolled off the bench to the floor, Ifran said, “Step one, done.”
Ifran turned to Saleet and Jaasir. “You two may have the honor of taking him to the sewers. His new life begins today.”
Both Jaasir and Saleet bowed and exited with grins on their faces.
Shareef crossed his arms and glared at Ifran. “You should have executed him in the same manner as Panin’s guards. No one should remain alive. Not even the blond. They all need to pay for Fakhir’s death.”
Ifran shifted his gaze to Shareef. “You must learn some punishments are worse than death. Panin is a disgusting man who believes he deserves to live as we do. He indulged in our hospitality, though he is the reason Fakhir died. You listened to his plans for the money he wanted to borrow.”
He put a hand on Shareef’s shoulder. “I have hope for you, brother. You will come to understand this is a more suitable retribution. Imagine how much Savelievich will suffer each waking moment of his life, aware that above him is a life he will never experience again.
“He is now cognizant of the luxury in which we live and the opulence of our home. The rest of his natural life will be spent dwelling in our sewers and eating nothing but discarded food. He will reek and beg for mercy which he will not receive. Every day will bring him endless degradation, only fitting for the atrocities he perpetrated on innocents.”
Shareef mulled over his brother’s words. He witnessed the ill-mannered, lazy, greedy wastrel for the past three days. As the concept sunk in, Shareef became amazed at finally agreeing with Ifran on something. He smiled. “You are quite ruthless. I will keep that in mind and try not to cross you.”
Ifran chortled loudly. “Shareef, you have nothing to fear from me so long as you think with your head and maintain family honor.”
Banking his laughter, Ifran’s keen eyes peered at Shareef. “I understand you well, little brother. You will follow father’s command not to seek out the blond. And so you can focus on more lucrative activities, I am telling you now that father’s edict will be mine as well when I become emir. However, it is unlikely the honorable blond survived since Panin poisoned him.”
Shareef eyed his brother. How does he do that? Ifran always seems to read my thoughts. One of the things which irritates me the most.
Ifran chuckled again. Since Fakhir’s death, he began to discern another side to Shareef and decided to alter his behavior, to hopefully engender a change in his younger brother. “Yes, I am aware it infuriates you that I know what you are thinking. I will let you in on a secret. It is because my heart is thinking the same. But we rule this country, and I must act with my head. It is time you made the shift, brother.
“We can make a formidable team. We are more alike than you might imagine. I perceive in you a younger and more handsome version of me. I want you to join me in our business dealings, become my right-hand man. When I eventually take over as emir, you will be prepared to lead our businesses to continued prosperity.”
Shareef grinned at the rare praise. Perhaps now is the time to quit acting immature and put aside my rebellious posturing against an older brother who always does everything right.
He glanced at the monitor. Noting the guards dragging Panin out of the steam room, he realized he might learn a thing or two from Ifran. “I believe I would like that, but first I must visit the families of Fakhir’s dead guards to ensure they are taken care of and to offer our condolences.”
Ifran nodded. “That reminds me. I need to appropriately compensate Saleet and Jaasir for their loyalty and clear thinking. None of Panin’s guards were left alive to reveal Fakhir had been there and brought our brother home without anyone being the wiser of his activities or death.”
Wickedly grinning, Shareef said, “Do not forget, they also brought us Panin.”
A mirror image of the smile flashed on Ifran’s face. “Yes. Shall we go to my office now? There is a deal I would like to bring you up to speed on. This one will give you a glimpse of how we conduct business when both parties negotiate honestly. We have a long history with him, going all the way back to his grandfather. They are an honorable family, and I respect the man.”
Shareef could not hide his pleasure, at the turning point of his relationship with Ifran. “Who is it?”
“Charles Arthur Brown Galloway, the eleventh Baron Wildingham from Canada. We expect him to arrive in a week.”
Matching Ifran’s long stride, Shareef walked side-by-side with a brother he believed he would always be at odds with but found change was in the air and embraced the challenge of viewing him in a different light.
Sacred Heart Abbey – Unit’s Room – 1111 Hours
Chortling echoed off the walls of their room as Dan wrapped his arms around his aching abdomen and tears of mirth welled in his eyes. “Stop making me laugh, you’re killing me,” Dan breathed out between persistent chuckles which joined the snickers and howling of the others.
Brody plopped down beside Danny, alight with joy listening to Danny’s laughter. A sound only a few days ago he worried he might never hear again.
Holding the clothing that Mike gave him for his disguise, Mason continued to shake his head and guffaw. The man possessed a wicked sense of humor. In some ways, he deserved this … he had been the loudest tormentor when the hair dye went entirely wrong.
Staring at both sources of amusement, Dan couldn’t decide who was funnier as Mike and Mason harassed each other. Mike was bald now. Apparently, while he was sedated last night, the guys prepared for exfil and Anastasia attempted to dye Mike’s hair a darker shade of copper, but it turned bright orange. Clown orange according to Mason’s razzing.
Mike begged her to bleach it out claiming safety vest orange would draw too much attention. Dan agreed with him. Anastasia declined indicating his hair would become brittle and break off. So Mike took matters into his own hands and shaved his head.
In retaliation for all the shit Mason gave him, calling him Mr. Clean, Kojak, and previously Bozo the Clown, Mike brought Mason his outfit. A pumpkin colored tee shirt with an imprint on the front which read Fishing saved me from being a porn star … now I’m just a MasterBaiter. And on the back a picture of an open-mouthed bass and the words, There’s nothing better than a largemouth on my rod.
Dan’s chuckling subsided when Mason and Mike ceased their repartee and Patch offered him a dose of painkillers. He shook his head. “Nah, don’t need them at the moment.”
With a smile, Patch said, “Endorphins are doing their job … interacting with your opiate receptors to reduce your perception of pain, like morphine.”
A huge grin played on Blaze’s face. “Glad they don’t affect him like the real stuff. We don’t want to be fighting off purple people eaters.”
“Or a persnickety parrot,” Patch added with humor lacing his words recalling the cute nurse in hospital who pestered Dan to eat his food after the plane crash. Relieved to find Blondie kept down crackers and broth this morning, he realized the kid once again defied death.
Starving and happy his last meal stayed where it should, Dan eyed Brody and the forgotten mug of broth and crackers in his hands. “Speaking of parrots … Danny wants a cracker.”
Bursting out laughing along with the others, Brody handed over the sleeve of saltines. Numerology on the brain, he noted the time was 11:11 and grinned. More mom-isms entered his mind, and Brody shared, “It’s now eleven after eleven. My mom once told me eleven is a master number in numerology and implies the spiritual path of an earth angel sent to uplift human consciousness and restore a sense of oneness and harmony … creating the beauty of life.”
Nibbling on the soda cracker, Dan grinned. “You and angels.” A concern popped into his head. “Beauty. How will I protect Beauty?”
Understanding his concern, Patch said, “
Got you covered on that one. I’ll be putting a waterproof bandage over your catheter. I can use the same material to wrap your music player. Beauty will be protected from water damage.”
That concern eased, another came to mind. “Do I have to do any more treatments? If not, can’t you take out the tube and IV?”
Patch’s forehead puckered in thought. “I’m all out of dialysate so you won’t be receiving any more dialysis here, but the catheter needs to remain until the doc determines if you need additional PD therapy. You’re on the last bag of saline, so after that finishes and I administer the final dose of sedative I possess, I’ll remove your IV.”
“One out of two isn’t bad,” Dan remarked attempting to assuage the fears of the others by sounding upbeat. He reached for the cup. His hand still shook, and he remained weak as a newborn kitten, but the sharp pains occurred with less frequency and less intensity.
As he drank the soup, Anastasia left to bring in their lunch tray. Dan noted Mike rummaging around in the corner, and Mason still staring at the orange shirt. “The shirt will draw unwanted attention to Mason.”
Mike turned, holding a bag which he tossed at Mason, who barely caught it. “That was only a joke. His real clothing will blend in. Anastasia is also going to work her magic with makeup to downplay the scar. We found what she needed when I was buying the gag disguise.”
Chuckling, Mason yanked off his black t-shirt and pulled on the humorous one. “I like this. I’ll wear it underneath.” Striking a pose in front of Blondie, he said, “You know I could’ve been a famous model by now.” He did an exaggerated catwalk promenade down the center of the room. “What ya think?”
Snickering, Dan peered at Brody. “We are privileged to be in the presence of Murchadh-Ailpein Srònaich O’Naoimhín, voted most gorgeous four years in a row.”
Morphing his face into fake awe, Brodie replied, “I know. He tells us every chance he gets.” Without warning Mason’s black shirt whacked him in the face.
