Loving Leisl (Special Forces: Operation Alpha) (Green Beret Book 2)

by Michele E. Gwynn

  “I—Oh!” Leisl yanked her hand from his and backed up two steps. “This isn’t funny, Jason. I might not have more than a couple days left here but I’ll be damned if they’re compromised by a practiced flirt!”

  “I’m not trying to compromise you, Leisl. Wait, you’re leaving in a couple days?” Doc grew serious.

  She blinked, having realized she’d said too much. “That’s beside the point.”

  He advanced two steps closing the distance between them. “It’s exactly the point.” He took both her hands again in his, looking down into her upturned face. “Why are you leaving? Where are you going?”

  His nearness caused a riot of emotions. “I can’t say,” she said.

  “Bullshit,” he said. “You’re not special ops. It’s not classified information.” He placed her hands on his chest, covering them with his own as he loomed over her. “Tell me,” he said, voice dropping low and brown eyes searching hers for an answer, “please.”

  She wasn’t sure if it was his nearness that threw her or the please he added that cracked the walls she’d build around herself. Either way, between that and the intensity in his eyes, the feel of his hands on hers and the beat of his heart beneath her fingertips, something gave. She froze even as she fell apart inside, swallowing hard.

  “Leisl? Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’ll listen.”

  She felt his thumbs caressing her hands and looked away. Taking a deep breath, she said, “I’m going back to the states. To D.C. Walter Reed Medical Center.” She glanced up, tears clouding her green eyes. “I have a brain tumor.”

  Doc felt like he’d been sucker-punched. The wind was knocked out of him as the enormity of her situation sank in. She was alone, had no one, and was now facing a life-threatening medical emergency. He stared into her eyes, seeing her tears, and without thinking, wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

  “I’m so sorry, Leisl. I had no idea.”

  She couldn’t remember the last time someone held her, couldn’t remember ever feeling as safe as she did in this moment and that shocked her most of all. Her first reaction was to run, to get away before he could hurt her. But another part of her wanted desperately to stay right where she was. Just for a moment, she let that other part of her have its way.

  Doc ran a hand over her back, a comforting gesture. Without letting go, he spoke near her ear, “So, what’s the plan? You’re going in for treatment, for surgery? What type of tumor are we talking about anyhow?”

  She sniffled. “A Shwannoma. And I don’t really know what type of treatment yet. Major Ross is making the arrangements for me to see the oncologist, a friend of his. I’ll know soon when I leave, but other than that, I don’t know anything yet, and that’s what scares me.”

  He already knew the answer to his next question, but she didn’t know that so he asked anyhow. “Any family going to be there with you?”

  She buried her face deeper into his chest, inhaling the scent of him. It was nice. Just soap and man. Clean. She wanted to remember that about him, that and how kind he was being. Sighing, she peeked up at him. “I don’t have any family, Jason.”

  Hearing her say it broke his heart. “You can’t go through any of this alone, Leisl. You need someone.”

  “Major Ross said they have a residence for soldiers who are being treated, people there to help. I won’t be alone.” She tried to sound tough. It didn’t work.

  “That’s not the same thing as having someone there who loves you.” Doc lifted a hand to her face, caressing her cheek. It was soft and smooth beneath his calloused fingers.

  A tear slipped from her eye running down her skin. She forced a sad smile. “Well, the only one who loves me is Pooch and I don’t have any way to bring him with me. I don’t think they’d let me bring a dog to a hospital even if I could somehow get the army to approve bringing him over as well.”

  Doc glanced down at the dog who sat patiently at their feet. He knew he needed to do something. Now that she’d entrusted him with this news, he thought he might be able to find a way to help. He looked at her. “You’ll let me know when you find out?”

  Leisl nodded. “Sure. If you want to know.”

  “I do, and Leisl,” he held her chin, “the dog isn’t the only one who cares.” With that, he leaned down and kissed her lips. It was soft and sweet, a gentle kiss meant to comfort, but it grew into something more.

  Heat spread through her body as Jason’s kiss deepened. The caress of his warm lips on hers was a sharp contrast to her memories of another time, a horrifying nightmare. This wasn’t forced on her, and it wasn’t unwelcome. It felt exactly like what it was—a first kiss, for her, at least. And it was nice. She leaned in on a sigh. It was all the invitation he needed as his tongue slid inside, tasting her. There was no urgency, only a shy hesitance as his hands roamed her back, sending tingles down her spine. Leisl moaned when he pulled away.

  Doc beheld her kiss-swollen lips and smiled, dimples deepening. “Wow,” he said, his eyes sleepy, voice rumbling in his chest. “You’ve done made a liar out of me, beautiful.”

  “What?” Leisl asked, still dazzled by her first real kiss. “How?”

  He raised a finger, touching her lips. “I said I wasn’t trying to compromise you, but here I am, compromising you. Are you going to get mad at me again?”

  “You’re insane, you know that, right?” She wasn’t mad. Not even a little bit. And he’d called her beautiful.

  “As long as you like my brand of insanity, it’s all good. But you will let me know everything, won’t you?”

  “I will.”

  “Good,” he said. “Don’t worry, okay? Like my mom always says, God has a plan.”

  Leisl snorted. “It sure has sucked so far.”

  Doc chuckled, kissing her nose. “Pretty much what I always said, but she believes enough for me so I guess I can pay it forward and believe enough for you.”

  Another wall went crashing down inside her and she smiled. “Guess I can’t argue with that.”

  “No ma’am, you can’t,” he said, tightening his arms around her waist. “There’s severe consequences to arguing with a Gordon.”

  “Oh yea? Like what?” she grinned.

  A wicked gleam twinkled in his brown eyes. “Like this,” he said, claiming her lips once again for a searing kiss.

  This one curled her toes and left her breathless. When he finally pulled away, she sighed, “Oh…my.”

  “I gotta go, babe. Can I meet you for dinner later?”

  “Sure. Around 1800 hours? That’s when I usually go.”

  “It’s a date,” he said, gently swatting her backside and walking away.

  Chapter 11

  The helo landed and two men jumped out. Both were tall, built like Greek Gods, and armed to the teeth.

  “So, these are the interrogation specialists?” Doc asked.

  Outlaw nodded. “Black Site Alpha’s best. They’ll take the prisoners back with them, but since time isn’t on our side, information gathering happens here.” He stepped forward. “Gentlemen, I’m Captain Oliver and this is Sergeant Major Gordon.”

  Salutes were exchanged. “Call me Doc,” he said, extending a hand to the first man. The man was rugged in an All-American way. Doc couldn’t see his eyes behind the sunglasses to further take his measure. He turned to the second soldier. This one was taller, broader, and had an olive-toned complexion. Tattoos showed below his rolled-up sleeves, a violation of uniform regulation in most cases, but command often overlooked such discrepancies for their seasoned operatives.

  “Lieutenant Shane McCall and this is my Chief Warrant Officer, Nick Perrillo.”

  “Glad to see you fellas,” said Doc.

  “If you’ll follow me, we’ll take you to the prisoners,” Outlaw said, leading the way.

  It was a short walk across the camp to the cordoned-off guest quarters. A hand-written sign stated, “KEEP OUT, AUTHORIZED STAFF ONLY BY ORDER OF COL. JACKSON.”

  The men moved a
round the barrier of orange tape going inside. Down a short hall, they came to a locked room. Outlaw knocked once, then twice, then three times.

  “Three Times a Lady?” Nick asked.

  The door opened revealing Skyscraper on the other side and Ghost behind him sitting on a stool against the wall.

  “It’s his favorite song,” said Outlaw, pointing as Skyscraper, “and his turn to choose the security knock this time around.”

  Nick Perrillo smirked. “I prefer Brick House, but whatever,” he said, a New Jersey accent coloring his words.

  The men entered the room leaving Skyscraper to close the door behind them. Outlaw made the introductions.

  “This is Sergeant Marcus DuBose, aka Skyscraper, and my right hand, Second Lieutenant Allen Williamson. We call him Ghost.”

  “No shit,” said Nick, eyeing Ghost. “That’s cold.”

  Shane threw him a look. “You’ll have to excuse Perrillo. He was raised by wolves and lives to be insubordinate. But he’s the best goddamned interrogator I know outside of myself.” He returned Ghost’s salute who was one step below him in rank. “Shane McCall, and this prick here is my Chief Warrant Officer, Nick Perrillo. You can call him Jersey, Nick, or Perrillo.”

  “And what about you,” Ghost asked.

  “Badger,” he said.

  “Because he’s one vicious, persistent motherfucker,” said Nick, a smirk tugging his lips.

  “Funny, you look like the boy next door,” said Doc.

  Shane smiled. “Confuses the shit out of the enemy too. They see nice guy. They get their asses kicked.”

  “I like him already,” said Skyscraper.

  Outlaw shook his head. “If everyone’s finished with the drawing room pleasantries, can we get on with it?” He nodded toward the far wall.

  Four men sat on their knees, hands tied behind their backs, hoods over their heads and earphones covering their ears. The music was cranked up so loud, it could be heard by the men standing ten feet away in the otherwise quiet room.

  “I see you’ve already begun breaking them down. Good.” Shane approached, eyeing the prisoners.

  “Is that Megadeth?” asked Nick, chuckling. “Nice.”

  “We’ve had them like this since we arrived. About eight hours now,” said Skyscraper. “No food, no water, no bathroom breaks.”

  “I smelled that coming in,” said Shane. He looked around locating a small table on the opposite side of the room. He approached setting his backpack down and reaching inside. Nick joined him, doing the same. They unpacked their gear laying it out on the table. It looked like what it was, a torture kit.

  “I take it the Geneva Convention ended outside this door,” said Doc.

  Shane glanced over his shoulder. “If that bothers you, you might want to leave now. Any of you,” he added, looking from Doc to Outlaw to Skyscraper and Ghost. “Just tell me what it is you need to find out and we’ll get that information.”

  “Damn,” said Ghost, swallowing. He looked at his teammates. Each nodded.

  Outlaw spoke for them all. “We’re good. What do you need?”

  “Tell me what you’re looking for,” said Shane.

  Outlaw laid out the situation. “These men kidnapped a chemical engineer, a woman named Sulima Ali who was in Damascus with her husband and daughter. They killed her husband and his family, and they have her daughter. They’ve been using that as leverage to gain her cooperation in making bombs for ISIS. Now that we’ve rescued her, they’ll kill the daughter. We need to know where she’s being held. It goes without saying we don’t have much time.”

  “Seems straightforward,” said Nick.

  “Then let’s begin.” Shane and Nick made sure all the tools laid out were visible by moving the small table closer to the bound terrorists. He looked at Outlaw. “You and your men need to remain quiet. Stand over there.” He pointed towards the wall where the table sat only a moment before. “Under no circumstances will you intervene in any way. No objections. No action. Are we clear?”

  Outlaw nodded. “Crystal.”

  Doc and the rest of his team all agreed.

  “Good.” Shane approached the first man, lifted off his earphones, and pulled back his hood. Angry eyes regarded him, then noticed the items on the table. Over the next two hours, the anger was replaced by terror and pain and exhaustion. Pieces of the puzzle were extracted, but more information was needed. When Shane McCall reapplied the hood and earphones and approached the second man, Doc left the room, saying he needed to take a piss.

  Out in the hall, he bent over and tried to control the dry heaves racking his gut. He’d killed people in the line of duty, but this was something else. It went against everything he’d been raised to respect. Even though he knew the information gathered was of the utmost importance, knew it was about saving a life, watching these two men torture the terrorist struck a nerve he didn’t know he owned. The screams still reverberated inside his head and the smell of urine and loose bowels filled his nostrils. He needed fresh air, fast. He needed something good and wholesome to cleanse away the bad taste in his mouth. He left the guest quarters, grabbing a bottled water from his room along the way and went in search of Leisl.

  Outside, dark clouds gathered. Thunder rumbled in the distance. A storm was approaching. Hot wind whipped up the sparse trees within the camp grounds and buffered the tents. Doc figured she was most likely in her room in the staff quarters since she didn’t go on shift until 1600. He turned in that direction needing to see her face, to hear her voice. She was the goodness he required, a reminder of beauty, both inside and out, of courage in the face of adversity, of grace under pressure. He had no idea how she’d managed to make such a remarkable impression on him in so short a period of time, but wars made for strange and unusual circumstances. He was nearly there, anticipating seeing her smile, kissing her lips, when the ground exploded.

  Leisl landed hard on the floor. Debris rained down as she struggled to find shelter. Covering her head, she looked around. Visibility was weak through the dust and dirt, but she saw a few of her coworkers running down what was left of the hallway, staying low. She covered her head again when another explosion sounded on the other side of the camp. It was followed by the rapid fire of machine guns. They were under attack. She scrambled to the corner where her bunk bed had been only moments before and located the box beneath. She opened it, pulling out her military issue M9 Beretta, ammo clips, and a helmet. Putting that on immediately, she checked the clip in the handgun and slid the other two into the pocket of her fatigues.

  Keeping low, she moved into the hall, gun in hand, toward the exit from staff quarters. She needed to get a look at the outside and see what was going on and then assess her situation. Loud shouts and more gunfire greeted her followed by a third explosion. This one hit closer to the hospital. Angie was on shift and the patients were vulnerable targets.

  As she moved out of the staff quarters she didn’t know if the ringing in her ears was from the cacophony of explosions or her tumor, but her hands remained steady holding the Beretta as she sighted her way through the chaos and for that she was thankful. She came to the corner of her building and quickly moved around only to find the barrel of an M4 in her face.

  “Shit!” said a familiar voice. “Leisl, oh my God. I almost shot you!”

  The rifle swung wide as arms came around her, crushing her to Jason’s chest. He felt solid and whole and safe. She inhaled, taking in the clean scent she remembered from earlier that morning. “Jason, what’s happening?” she asked, looking up.

  “We’re under attack. Rocket launchers from the east. Gotta be ISIS fighters. We need to get to cover. I was on my way to you when I got thrown off my feet.”

  “You were coming to see me?”

  Two large military trucks rolled into the camp. They stopped. Men dressed in black from head to toe, hoods covering their heads leaving only the eyes visible, jumped out, machine guns shooting anyone in sight.

  “Goddammit. We’ve got
to go. Get behind me, Leisl, and stay low.” Doc pushed her around him, aiming his M4 in the direction of the terrorists. He fired off a volley moving sideways. Leisl held on to the back of his vest with one hand and raised the other, firing at a man running straight at them. He went down.

  “The hospital is closest. Move, move,” he said.

  They ran ducking low, weaving so as to not be an easy target. Leisl pushed through the door first followed by Doc. Seeing a gurney inside the hall, he pulled it around, pushing it up against the door. It wouldn’t do much in the building, not with rocket launchers, but it was something. He turned, grabbing her hand, and pulled her toward Eastwood’s room. Her fingers shook in his. He lifted them to his lips, dropping a quick kiss on her knuckles.

  “Good shooting, sweetheart. You did good. I’m proud of you. It’s going to be okay.” He told her, hoping to calm her nerves.

  Leisl swallowed. “Thank you, but it’s not nerves. I have hand tremors from the brain tumor,” she said.

  Doc did a double-take. “Then I’m even more impressed. Brain tumor be damned. You’re a badass, Sergeant Craig, and a formidable shot.”

  A small smile touched her lips but quickly died as they arrived at Eastwood’s room. Most of it was gone, blown to bits. Angie was on her knees next to Eastwood desperately trying to staunch the flow of blood coming from what was left of the sergeant’s left leg. He turned confused green eyes in their direction.

  “Doc! Doc, my leg. I think I lost my leg. Goddammit, Doc!” He repeated the litany over and over.

  Jason ran to him. “Tourniquet,” he said to Angie, “I need a tourniquet stat!”

  Leisl could see her friend was equally in shock and pulled off her belt, running to hand it to Jason who tied it around Eastwood’s thigh, pulling it tight. She turned to the shelf pulling down towels and dropped down, wrapping them around Sergeant Tyler’s leg. Doc ripped one into strips and they used them to tie off the towel-wrapped area.