I leaned my head back against the headrest, willing Shiloh to hurry up and get me away from my childhood home where the bad memories overshadowed the good ones. Closing out the heated angry shouts from Andrew and the growling from Mitchell, I turned my head to take one last look at the house my mother once filled with love.
Kyle had made his way from the front steps and was now standing a few metres back from where Shiloh’s car was parked.
Fear speared my heart when he smiled a cruel lip-curling smile, then he waved and flicked his lit cigarette at the passenger window just as Shiloh got back in and started the engine back up.
“Get me out of here please Shiloh,” I begged softly, staring at Kyle, the evil glint in his eyes shooting a tremble of pure terror through me.
Hatred shooting from his piercing green eyes and it was directed straight at me.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
GABRIEL
“All right listen up boys,” I yelled out as loud as I could over the sound of the army transport plane engines. The hull of the aircraft was nothing like a commercial plane, the hull was bare of any kind of luxury seats, cute attendants or peanuts and beer.
But it had lots of engine noise.
“Our objective is to get into the Australian consulate, which is surrounded by heavily armed militants, without being seen by anyone; grab the suit and get him the hell home,” I explained with a roll of my eyes. Without being seen meant one thing and by the looks my team were giving me, they knew what the answer to that was already.
“Night walk in? Fucking hell!” Rafe growled from his seat. The LC was young, but he was eager and fearless. And while he was the first one into the danger, he absolutely hated walking.
“Yes, full night gear, night vision, and we maintain radio silence. There is a fragile truce between the Iraqis and us, our government pulled us out from the battlefield, but the war between the oil barons and the locals goes on. This numbskull we are extracting overstayed his welcome and has managed to ruffle one too many feathers. Tensions are high, and it is only the truce between our countries that is stopping them from storming the embassy,” I said, relaying the info we received before leaving the base in New South Wales.
“So, we are plucking him out from under their noses without any permission to be there, no intel from the other side, completely black,” Bastian confirmed before anyone had a chance to ask the next obvious question.
I nodded my affirmation, levelling each man with a hard glare.
“He does not give any of you orders. If he doesn’t cooperate, hog-tie the bastard and we carry him out. He isn’t a politician, he is not a friend of the army. He is just a businessman greedy for money, however, he is an important businessman and a contributor to our government’s bottom line.”
“So, we have to risk not only the truce, but our arses because he wants Iraqi oil,” Grill surmised correctly.
“Yeah man, something like that,” I agreed tiredly. Leaving Devon would have been worth it if we were doing something constructive in the greater scheme of things. Saving a greedy suit was not a good reason for leaving my girl minutes after making love to her for the first time.
I could still feel her hands on my skin, hear her moans of pleasure when I made her come. Fuck, I could still fucking taste her cum on my tongue.
Goddamn, get your head where it needs to be Booth. Go over the plan for the mission, check the weapons anything other than remembering Devon’s screams when you came inside her… bare.
My pep talk didn’t go in the direction I hoped, instead of concentrating on my job my head went to the possibility of fathering a baby with a woman I had known for all of a full eight days. And while Devon was no doubt special and the woman I wanted a future with, becoming a parent now was way, way too soon.
It didn’t sit well with me leaving without getting to talk about that and whatever it was Devon wanted to talk to me about. Twice she said she had something to tell me, and twice we got interrupted. I didn’t like loose ends, things left unsaid, basically I didn’t like mess. My life was all about order, and handling situations straight away. So, my current state of mind was not a shock.
“You thinking about how we are going to get this guy out without causing an international incident, or are you thinking about pussy?” Bastian asked, talking a seat on the bench seat next to me. He was dressed the same as me, standard Aussie issue commando uniform for the desert missions, we would be changing into our Special Ops blacks closer to our destination.
Narrowing my eyes at my best friend and second in command, I took a minute to choose my words carefully.
“I have been very gracious in dealing with your mouth Bastian, the shit with our CO and the brass I let you handle. You have even taken a few swipes at Devon and I have let them go through to the keeper because you are my best mate, and I know most of the time you are yanking my chain. But know this, Devon is not now, nor will she ever be pussy,” I said, hearing the menace in my tone, the rage boiling at the surface. “But be warned Lieutenant, when we are in this uniform, the beret and the dagger badge, I am your Captain, Sebastian. Show a little fucking respect for that and maybe you will finally get your third star. Last warning mate, do not disrespect her like that ever again,” I cautioned him staring him down.
Sebastian nodded slowly, regret and shame shone in his eyes. “You are right Gabe, I don’t know why I said that. Seems lately I run my mouth just for the hell of it, ya know,” he said with a shake of his head, as if he was trying to work it out himself.
“I have some shit going on, fighting and pissing people off is better than dealing with that,” he explained, rather cryptically, giving me nothing to help him.
Sebastian Johnston was my best friend, and my brother and I wanted to help him get the star that would bring him up from LT to Captain. He deserved to lead; his skill set was phenomenal, his loyalty unquestionable. We’ve all had issues at one time or another, and as a team as close as Team FIVE, I owed it to him to cut him some slack.
“I get it man, I do. Devon is my woman, so take her off your shit list all right mate.”
Sebastian lifted his fist for me to bump, which I did without a second thought.
“Won’t happen again Tank, sorry.”
And that was where I left it. I’d said my piece to my mate, reprimanded my LT and for five minutes managed to forget about my idiotic move not gloving up.
What I didn’t forget about the whole time was Devon.
Never Devon.
“Load up boys,” Bastian called out once the plane’s engine shut down and we could finally hear ourselves think. Fuck the belly of a military aircraft was a fucking noisy place, especially annoying when you had shit to go over so you didn’t get yourself killed.
“Sidearms, HK 417s or the KAC SR-25, HK MP5s, night vison, knife and that is all gentlemen,” Bastian said, stopping Grill as he went for the MK 47 Striker, his personal favourite weapon.
“What the fuck LT! Sidearms and a submachine gun only? Is this a rescue or a fucking suicide mission!” Grill shouted, his hand hovering over the grenade launcher.
“Controlled firepower only Lance Corporal Webber. We do this quiet, smart and undetected,” I ordered, wading in on the conversation to back up my LT. After my chat with Bastian, we went over the brief handed to us back at the base in Australia, agreed that it was a clusterfuck of an order, then went about planning the extraction with the outcome of everyone coming out whole. The businessman, I gave no fucks about. Our country issues warnings everyday about travelling to war torn destinations, if he coveted money over his safety, that was on him.
My life and the safety of each man before me was all my responsibility. I took that very seriously, even if some politicians didn’t. Earlier, I did a google search on our target. Found that he most definitely did line the pockets of a federal party, scored some even deeper intel when I made a call to Ford, the club’s computer expert and all-round know-it-all when it came to digging into shit.
&nb
sp; Funny how the press left out some pertaining information regarding the relationship between the tickturd that needed saving and a high up foreign minister. Once I got my temper under control after reading the filth and greed Ford uncovered, I sent an email to my cousin James, an undercover cop in the AFP. As an Australian Federal Police agent and a patch wearing member of the Wounded Souls, James, I knew would do what needed to be done. That side of things was now out of my hands, just one objective left to accomplish, then I could get my arse back to Devon.
Grill grumbled something colourful, but still lifted his hand from the wooden crate that held more weaponry than a small island nation.
“This shit job would be better if we were getting six figures for it rather than a measly seventy-four grand and a meal allowance,” Kodah chipped in, shoving his side firearm into the holster on his hip, then reached for a couple more to fill his leg and ankle holsters.
“I hear ya brother, but remember mercs have to do paperwork and buy their own shit. The army lets us blow shit up and we get paid for it,” Deke said, going on with the same routine with his own weapons.
“No more talk about hiring out, we do that, we’ll never get a home life. The pull of big money and taking more jobs means more time away,” I reminded my team.
About a year ago, after a mission that went south quick and left Kodah with a permanent resident in his leg in the form of a bullet fragment, we sat down and talked about going out for hire. It had been a heated debate, and while I didn’t agree with it, I acknowledged that the conversation needed to be had. We hashed it over, shouted at each other and Bastian and I even came to blows over it. However, in the end, we decided being a commando in the 2nd Regiment meant something. Team FIVE received sweeter perks than some of the other teams because of our willingness to go where no other team would or could. Staying off base and not having to sit at a desk during downtime the best perk of them all.
The benefits outweighed the big bucks we could make being mercenaries, and now I had Devon near my Queenscliff apartment, the best perk of them all.
The cargo door of the plane opened. My daydreaming halted immediately and my soldier side took over. Grabbing my backpack, I shouldered it on, then patted my breast pocket and felt the familiar square shape that was nestled inside. Every mission the photograph of my old man and his team came with me, every single one. I wasn’t superstitious by any means, but having the old tattered picture of Deck, Steel, Mannix, Creed, Booth and Darth, the original Team Five, gave me a sense of comfort. Something I needed sometimes when shit got dark.
“Captain Booth. The Humvee is ready and waiting on the south end of the tarmac,” a ground support crew member shouted at me, his hand lifting to salute me.
I acknowledged his sign of respect for my rank with a brief salute of my own. “Drop off point?”
“The start of Haifa Street, Sir, orders are you go in the rest of the way on foot,” he said, telling me nothing I didn’t already know. I prided myself on knowing every detail before I set foot on the soil of whatever godforsaken country needed our help. But it was important to me that I knew others were well informed as well. My life and that of my team depended on the knowledge of strangers, army or not, I didn’t know them from a rat’s arse and trusting wasn’t my strong suit.
“Two fucking miles to the embassy, on foot and no cover. Fucking perfect,” Cole growled. Creed’s son and the most like his father, never said much. If it were possible the bloke was even moodier than his old man, and just like his old man he despised Iraq. But when Cole spoke, you listened and took what he had to say in the highest regard. He was also part blood hound and had a photographic memory. Maps weren’t required with Cole Stephens on the team.
I looked at him, my brows raised and waited.
“Fuck me,” he grumbled, “we stick to the south end of the street, stay in the shadows of the closed shopfronts. About a half-mile from the embassy there is a laneway delivery drivers use to get to the hospital that is located next to the embassy. We use that, less chance of being detected but we will have civilians, mostly vagrants, so ease off the triggers.”
I gave a chin lift then pulled my balaclava down over my face. I wasn’t all that keen on the grease paint most soldiers preferred to use, and while I did in the jungle because that shit was too hot for anything more than paint, I used this form of cover more often than not.
“Tattoos covered boys, no distinguishing traits, nothing that can be used against our families,” I reminded them needlessly more out of habit than not trusting them to know their jobs. My stud in my pocket along with my photo.
“Hands!” Zeke called and we all huddled into a small circle, our shoulders pressed together forming a barrier to those personnel around us, all eyes were on me.
I pushed one hand into the circle and waited for six gloved hands to pile on top.
“Without Warning,” I clipped the motto of the 2nd Regiment, then joined in with my brothers with Team FIVE’s embellishment and personal flourish.
“Wounded Sons are coming, fuck yeah!”
“I will be making a full report on the tactics your team used Captain Booth,” the suit threatened me with for the fifth time since we boarded the transport flight back at the Bagdad military base the Australian army leased from the Iraqis.
I didn’t even attempt to stop my eyes from rolling at the wanker as I passed by him.
“I used the force necessary to get you out of there alive mate, if the minister has a problem with me or my team I will be happy to brief him on how you deem money and oil more important than the security of your own fucking country. Now shut the fuck up and enjoy the flight,” I barked at him totally finished with any more of his bullshit threats.
The mission went as well as one could expect sneaking into an area that had once been a green zone for the US military and the scene of one of the worst battles of the Iraq war conflict between the US.
We found ourselves surrounded by a large group of militants who had not been happy to see us climbing the fence of a building on their soil. Regardless of the foreign occupancy, the land it sat on belonged to them or that was how they saw it.
Me? The Aussie flag flies, it is ours. Pretty simple logic in my book.
“Wait till he tells the brass you handcuffed him, practically hog-tied him and threw him over your shoulder,” Bastian piped in, his smirk telling me he enjoyed my spur of the moment decision.
“Hey, the stupid prick wanted to wait until he had the contracts signed and got his key to the fucking city along with a brass band parade. He pissed me off okay,” I muttered, sinking into the barely padded bench seat with a loud groan and closing my eyes.
“And he is still handcuffed why?” Rafe asked chuckling.
“Because he is still pissing me off,” I answered, not opening my eyes to know that all my men would have big arse smiles on their faces.
All the chatter quietened down after that, the team all pretty wiped out from the long-haul flights, not to mention the ones still in front of us before we got back to Sydney. One more plane ride and a car ride back to Queenscliff and Devon was all mine.
Devon. Fuck that woman was becoming everything to me. This had to be it for me, never had I had such a strong attraction from the first sight to eight days later. Our talks were deep, our attraction to one another deeper.
I needed to have her in front of me, see those stunning blue eyes, touch that silky hair and have her lithe sexy body under me. This mission was a short one, so I wasn’t climbing the walls like I thought I would have been missing her.
The true test was going to be a one to three-month deployment, how she was going to cope with a long separation was yet to be seen. I did think of asking my mum about her talking to Devon, but she never knew my dad during his active days. None of the Flock had any experience with deployments other than Aunt Memphis. She had not been with Creed at the time, but she had been his sister-in-law so she did know something about being left alone. Coping with doing thin
gs without help from the man of the house, maybe she had some advice to give.
I thought about that when someone made an apologetic cough from in front of me.
“Excuse me Captain?” The stuttering voice of the private on board the flight had the nerve to speak.
“You better be hear to tell me you have cold beer and beef jerky, if not piss off,” I growled, not moving anything other than my mouth.
“No—no, Sir, I have a message for you. It just came through from Major Arthurs in Melbourne, Sir.”
I didn’t hide my groan, Major Arthurs was a pain in the arse, but he wasn’t the kind of commanding officer to contact you mid-flight for no reason.
“What’s the message,” I sighed.
“You— you don’t want to read it yourself, Sir?” Private Stutterer asked me incredulously.
“No, because if I have to open my eyes and see your face, it will not go well for you private,” I said matter of factly, smirking at the chuckles coming from around me.
“Read it for fuck’s sake then bugger off,” Cole yelled out irritably.
“Um… okay. It says. Gabe, I have Devon here at the compound. There is no way she is staying with those fuckwit brothers of hers. If you don’t sort their shit out then the club will be. You and Devon need to talk as soon as you get back mate, it isn’t good. Copy that, Squirt.”
My eyes sprang open, the tiredness and the aches all but forgotten.
What in the actual fuck was Shiloh talking about!
My mind raced with the information that was just given to me, which was fuck all.
Devon was at the compound and Shiloh wanted the club to deal with her brothers, why?
“Fucking hell,” Bastian hissed, “Squirt knows better than to send a message worded like that to you.”
“Yeah, she does,” I growled, jumping up from my seat, I grabbed the private by his collar and hauled him behind me.
Gabriel (The Wounded Sons Book 1) Page 12
