Meant to Be

by Jessica James

  But that was part of what attracted her to him. She was different. Friendly yet cautious. Easy-going yet alert. She seemed to study everything and everyone as if taking notes and putting them into a folder for a later date. She’d remembered the name of every person she’d met at the party and came across as friendly and amicable. Yet there was always a hint of wariness and watchfulness in her eyes.

  Rad sighed and tried to force his mind back to the present. His time with Lauren had been magical, but now he had to focus on the mission at hand. While life went on as usual for Americans at beach resorts like Ocean City, he and his brothers were heading to the other side of the planet to help prevent what had happened to Lauren’s parents from ever happening on American soil again.

  The job he had to do wasn’t easy or glamorous, but it was a necessary evil in a world of increasing fanatical ideologies. The thought made Rad wonder what Lauren would think of his career choice. Would she be appalled if she knew his typical workday could involve blasting into a quiet house in the middle of the night in a country whose language and culture were foreign to him? And would she be shocked to know that he often had no way of knowing if that house contained a family of four sleeping on the floor—or fifty armed insurgents opening fire? How do you even explain a job like that?

  And how do you explain to someone that even if you’re not actively deployed to the other side of the world, the majority of your days and weeks and months are spent training in some remote area of the United States?

  Most people would probably think being surrounded by death and constantly in training would make someone lose touch with the softer side of humanity, but Rad found the opposite to be true. Living on the edge and constantly making life-or-death decisions made him and his comrades more acutely attuned to the fragility and preciousness of life. It also made them more aware of the important things in life—the things that mattered.

  For a moment Rad’s thoughts drifted to something he had never thought about before—a normal life. Although he’d never been in better mental or physical condition, he couldn’t stay on the tip of the spear forever. In time his reactions would slow, and he would need to settle down. Seemed simple enough, but it couldn’t be more complicated.

  Protecting people was his calling in life. It wasn’t something he could just walk away from and forget. He knew when he signed up for this gig that, in devoting himself to protecting the American dream for others, he would never be able to fully enjoy it for himself. That was just part of the job.

  Like the sign displayed at the U.S. Naval Academy said:

  Non sibi sed patrie. Not for self, but for country.

  But now there was Lauren.

  “Well, just be careful.”

  Wynn’s voice interrupted his thoughts. Rad opened his eyes and lifted his head. “Whadyamean?”

  “When you fall that hard for someone you’re bound to hit hard at the bottom.”

  Rad lay back down. “No matter how hard I hit, it’ll be worth it.”

  “Well, you got one thing going for you.”

  “What’s that?” Rad didn’t bother to open his eyes this time.

  “Heather and Annie liked her.”

  Rad lifted his head again. “They did?”

  “Yeah. They apparently talked a good bit.”

  “I hope not too much.”

  “You know you’re safe with those two.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Wynn groaned as he eased himself into a more comfortable position. “So what does she do for a living?”

  “Not sure, actually.”

  Wynn turned toward him, as if not believing he’d heard correctly. “You never asked her?”

  “It never came up.” Rad opened one eye and focused it on Wynn. “I didn’t exactly tell her what I do, so I didn’t think it was right to ask what she does.”

  Rad closed his eye and thought about it. When it came right down to it, he didn’t know that much about her, and in the short time they’d been together, she hadn’t done much to clear up the mystery.

  “So she could be someone famous for all you know.” Wynn sat up on one elbow and talked in an excited whisper. “You know, like an author or a movie star trying to hang out with the regular folks for the weekend.”

  Rad smiled. “Yeah, I guess so. If you want to consider us regular folks.”

  “Heather said she travels a lot.”

  “Yeah, I did get that much out of her. Sorry to ruin your fantasy, but I get the feeling she works in a bank or maybe an embassy or something overseas. Probably sits at a desk all day.”

  His mind wandered again. And wears red heels and short black skirts.

  “Oh.” Wynn sounded disappointed. “How’s that gonna work if you’re on opposite sides of the world all the time?”

  “I haven’t quite figured that one out yet.” Rad lifted his head and shot him a piercing glance. “Get some shut-eye, would ya?”

  Chapter 12

  Wynn laid his head back down and tried to rest like the others. Rad was right. He needed to get some shut-eye while he could. It would be a long trip, followed by more training and lots of nights with little sleep. They would be overworked and under constant threat—and no doubt loving every minute of it.

  He turned and gazed over at Rad. It appeared he had finally drifted off. At least the goofy smile had disappeared. It worried Wynn just a little that his friend had fallen so hard so fast, especially considering the fact that he was the most level-headed, and frankly, detached and unemotional, member of the group. The thought made Wynn grin. On second thought, that’s how he had fallen for Heather—hard and fast. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

  Wynn felt his eyelids get heavy as he glanced around the plane. None of the men surrounding him knew what their mission was going to be, but they all knew it was something big. They’d been training at a compound for two weeks before the short break to Ocean City, and now they were heading to Afghanistan to train some more. And then they would wait for permission to execute the operation they had already worked so hard to undertake—a go-ahead that may or may not ever come.

  As he listened to the increasingly loud snoring of those who had drifted off, Wynn wished he could do the same. It wasn’t the grunts and snorts of those surrounding him that kept him awake. They were as familiar and comforting to him as a child hearing his mother sing a lullaby. Rather, it was thoughts of the brief time he’d gotten to spend with Heather. The goodbyes seemed to get harder with each deployment, and he wasn’t even married yet.

  Wynn could hardly fathom what it would be like once she officially became his wife. Although he didn’t let on to the guys how excited he was, Heather wasn’t the only one counting down the days. He’d known she was “the one” the first time he’d set eyes on her at a party. The fact that she was with someone else at the time and he didn’t even know her name had not deterred him. With Rad’s help and prodding he’d tracked down her contact information and worked up the nerve to ask her out. He’d never really expected her to consent, but she had, and they’d been together ever since.

  Well, together ever since in a military way. It took a special type of woman to accept the separation this way of life required. Frequent training phases followed by long deployments meant she was a single woman much of the time. But Heather was intelligent, practical, and independent. Much as she loved being pampered when he was home, she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself when he was not. Their time away from each other seemed only to make their connection stronger. She was his friend, his lover, and his soul mate—and would soon be officially joining his military family.

  Wynn glanced around the plane at the men sleeping or resting in various and odd positions throughout the plane. Yep, this was the family she’d be joining, and it would be hard to ask for a better one.

  These were the men to whom he entrusted his life on a regular basis, and who always had his back. They were more than teammates. They were brothers. Especially Rad. Th
e two of them had hooked up early in their military careers and somehow ended up going through most of their training together. No one knew Rad as well Wynn—and vice versa. They’d been through the most grueling and demanding times together, seen each other’s best and worst sides, and through it all, remained friends.

  Wynn lifted his head, and seeing Rad appeared to have fallen asleep, tried to relax again by closing his eyes. Rad was one of a kind. Easy-going and laid back as he was when not on duty, he was a fighting force to be reckoned with when in the battle zone.

  But then again, so were all the men here. They were the cream of the crop, the type of men who were willing to lay down their lives for the country they loved. This group would never ask, How many will we be facing? But rather, Where are they?

  The sound of extra-loud snoring and snorting reached Wynn’s ears, and his gaze shifted over to Bipp, whose nighttime wheezing was legendary.

  Bipp was their explosives guy. Shorter and stockier than most of the other men on the team, he was a consummate professional. No matter how dangerous the situation, he approached each mission with an icy resolve, his expression, his composure, his demeanor, always calm and unruffled.

  In this aspect, he resembled pretty much all the men on the team, Wynn thought to himself. No matter how strongly each one of them felt about what they were doing, they always appeared completely devoid of emotion. The more things heated up around these guys, the more they calmed down and focused.

  Facing one’s fears and not backing down was a character trait present in every single warrior Wynn had ever met. If there was danger around, they were actually grateful for the opportunity to go into harm’s way. They did it for the man next to them, the men who had come before them, and perhaps most of all—for the men who had never come back from dangerous missions in dirty hellholes no one would ever hear about.

  Wynn took a deep breath and let it out slowly. There was no group he’d rather be with than this one. All were good men, fighting men… men you were proud to go into battle with. His eyes flitted over the sleeping bodies in the plane. There was Reese, who was currently lying in the fetal position. Everyone called him the strong, silent type—mostly minus the silent. Burly, bearlike, and with an armful of tattoos, he was their sniper, and there was no one better at the job. He sometimes smoked two packs of cigarettes a day but could still run a six-minute mile and make it seem easy.

  Beside him lay Pops, a guy everyone looked up to. Always calm, cool, and aloof, he was a gentleman, religious, and devoted to his wife. As an expert in communications, he was an absolute wizard at setting up the most sophisticated equipment in the most uncivilized and isolated places. At the age of thirty-five, he was a veteran of special operations and was one of the most respected and decorated guys in the group.

  On the opposite end of the age and experience scale was Wink. At only twenty-four he was the baby of the team. Young, blond, and ripped, he was even more of a “babe magnet” at bars than Rad. But his proficiency did not lie in picking up women alone. He was a weapons expert and was absolutely indispensable to the team. He liked to play with toys, but in his case, the toys included pistols, sub-machine guns, sniper rifles, grenade launchers, and mortar systems.

  Tork, who just got engaged to Molly, managed air support. He was a Texas cowboy who loved horses, the outdoors, and hunting anything that moved. Rough on the outside, he was what you would call a true brawler type—prone to smashing chairs or faces rather than turn the other cheek. Tall and lean, naturally muscular, he could drink a twelve-pack a night with no noticeable effect.

  And then there was Crockett, a blue-eyed, blond-haired guy from Alabama—a strapping Southern boy of twenty-five. He spent every second off duty in the gym, improving and refining his tough exterior. Yet you could see in his eyes that he had a soft heart. That’s what made him such a good medic and so essential to the team.

  As his gaze fell upon each man, Wynn realized how indispensable each one was. All had a job to do and could do it without being told. They were all men with courage and character and a burning desire to win at all cost—the type of men who would rather die than quit.

  Images of their last deployment replayed in Wynn’s mind as he felt his body slowly relax. They never knew what to expect when called to duty, and that time six months ago had been no exception…

  Just after being dropped deep in the Afghanistan mountains—eight of them with a couple of CIA spooks—they’d received word that a large convoy of Taliban was heading their way through the mountain pass… a convoy estimated at one hundred trucks with at least ten men in each one.

  The team hadn’t even had time to set up their outpost yet, but within minutes of hearing the news, Pops was in one corner of a small building using his pack as a low desk for his laptop while Crockett ran a second antenna wire through a small window. Wink was taking inventory of grenades, mines, and ammo clips piled on the cement floor. Everyone knew it was going to be a long night and probably an even longer day.

  Wynn shifted his position to get more comfortable as the images of that night kept coming.

  When Rad had returned from a meeting with the tribal leaders in the village that night, every member of the team immediately stopped what he was doing. Rad’s expression told them the odds weren’t good, but his calm, cool composure gave everyone confidence that the task was not insurmountable. “Okay guys, we’ve got a SNAFU,” he said in a quiet, even voice as soon as the door closed behind him.

  The news was not unexpected. In military terms that meant: Situation Normal: All Fucked Up.

  “We need to do some quick terrain analysis.” Rad sat down and started making a list “First, we need to find some high ground with a good view to direct air strikes. Pops, get command on the line and tell them we’ll be in the shit tomorrow, if not tonight. Tork, get us some aircraft. Reese, you figure out a timeline. We need a solid plan in about sixty minutes.”

  That was all that was said, but in another five minutes every inch of floor was covered with maps, and half of the men were on their hands and knees studying them. Tork juggled between the radio, his laptop, and a cipher book, and within a few minutes announced that two F-18 fighter planes were inbound for reconnaissance.

  The men lifted their heads from the maps to listen to the report, but then went right back to their work, pointing out positions they might occupy, and more importantly trying to figure out how to get there. The general buzz in the room was again interrupted by Tork. “The F-18s spotted eight trucks heading right for us. Are they cleared to engage?”

  The room fell silent as each man appeared to be visualizing the valleys and roads and picturing what the pilots were seeing. They didn’t want to endanger any civilians, but according to headquarters a force like this, moving in this direction and at this time of night, could only be Taliban. If this was an advance for the expected one hundred trucks, they had to slow them down to gain time. All eyes turned to Rad, who nodded. “Smoke ‘em.”

  Tork keyed his hand mic. “Cleared hot,” he told the pilots. The men then resumed their deliberations as if nothing of importance had occurred. But they all knew this was only the beginning of a long twenty-four hours that would likely require much more than just air power.

  A thousand men are coming against our dozen. Wynn remembered thinking. Not good odds. Not good odds at all.

  The team finally decided on the high ground they would aim for at first light. The location seemed perfect on the map, but the landscape in that part of the region was a cluster of folded and furrowed ridges and hills, the type that creates a maze of passages, many of which culminated in dead ends. Wynn worried about what it would actually be like when they got there. Until they arrived on site, they couldn’t really be sure.

  As soon as dawn began to glow on the horizon, the team moved out in two Toyota pickup trucks to find cover and establish their observation post. They had no body armor or helmets—the same as the few locals that had come along to help—but they had a prett
y substantial pile of weaponry and ammo.

  Wynn had seen the concern on the faces of the men in the truck when the road began to turn and climb. This was not what they had visualized from the map. They continued advancing up the spine-jarring road, moving slowly because the shoulder was narrow and dropped off sharply into fall-you-die type of terrain. At last the road leveled out and the vehicles came to a stop.

  Wynn’s dread turned to excitement as he jumped out of the truck and took in the sight of the narrow valley below. The only road through the mountains lay just on the other side. The enemy convoy would have to travel across this valley floor to reach them. It was a perfect kill zone.

  Rad turned around and shot Wynn a wide grin. “Pretty sure this is the nicest freaking view I’ve ever seen.”

  “Hot damn.” Wink jumped out of the truck and began to pick out spots to hit the convoy with heavy machine guns and RPGs if they made it across the valley. Everyone knew that whatever vehicles survived the air strikes would try to make it up the narrow, steep road that climbed up toward them. The team planned to hit the lead vehicles, clog the route and keep the rest corralled in the valley where the pilots could pound them. The enemy would be in the open with no way to escape except for the way they came.

  Explosions began to echo in the distance and a few plumes of black smoke rose into the blue sky as aircraft pummeled the approaching convoy. Minutes later, the first of a long line of trucks spilled into the valley below as if trying to outrun the bombs falling from the sky.

  After about an hour of watching the progress and listening to the explosions, Tork radioed the pilots and asked how many were left.