by A. M. Brooks
“You left her a mess, man. I will always regret we didn’t tell her the real reason you enlisted.” Zane’s words slip out slowly.
“You and me both,” I answer before hanging up. I don’t feel like partying tonight. I can’t think about being around anyone. My time with Lyric flashes in my mind, replaying like a movie trailer, and each frame is another punch to the gut. It ends with that look she gave me that day. I hear her words accusing me of sleeping with that other girl. I can see the pain amplified in her blue eyes while tears trailed down her cheeks. I did that to her. I ruined the girl I loved.
It becomes clear I need to get the fuck out of Tennessee. All the good I felt by being at home is now replaced with the feeling I’m being stabbed by a knife in my chest. My fingers quickly pull my cell phone out and I call the one number I’ve been thinking about all night.
“Street,” he answers on the second ring.
“I wanted to ask about this job with Cole Security Forces, Sir.”
Chapter Ten
Colt
It did not take long after the call to my superior for my time off to be approved and I was scheduling a flight to Virginia. So far I like the area. There is less hustle than in the larger cities, which suits me. My plane landed last night, and even with my usual lack of sleep, I was happy to be gone. I got out as soon as I could.
Despite my dad or Zane’s warnings, I did go look at where the old maple tree had stood. The space around it looked like devastation, not even the old bench sat there, as if anyone who tried to enjoy it would be cast in the unlucky-in-love shadows. Lyric’s pain was evident in the stump that was left. My mind conjured up images of her face twisted in pain, dark hair flying around her while she hacked into the bark that told our story. The one symbol that played a part in our best moments. So yes, I ran again, from my hometown. All I wanted to focus on was the possible mission my superiors deemed appropriate enough for me to use my leave time for.
So far Cole Security Forces is pulling out all the stops. A car picked me up at the airport and would take my bags to the hotel I am staying at for the night. If I decide to continue to the next phase, I have the option to stay longer in a rented house. All expenses are being paid for, which only fuels my hunger to know more about the mission. I’m practically vibrating with tension by the time the car rolls up to a building.
“You decided to make the call?” Zane laughs nearby. My head snaps over to him. Some of the energy leaves my body. After our call the other night, I’ve been fielding my calls, avoiding him so we didn’t have to talk about the fact that I bailed out of town. Since then I’ve been trying to mentally prepare my headspace for all the information I’m about to get.
“Couldn’t let the opportunity pass.” I shrug, but Zane watches me carefully. If he’s aware of how messed-up I feel after being home, he doesn’t comment.
“Let’s get this over with so we know what we’re dealing with.” I gesture to the door. He nods his head and holds his hand out for me to lead the way.
I walk right up to a beautiful girl with blonde hair, who also appears to be a receptionist. “I’m Colt Street. I’m here to meet with Mark Dixon.”
“I’m Zane, also here to meet with Mark Dixon,” my friend throws over my shoulder.
“Yes, I know who you both are,” the woman answers, smiling. “Welcome to Cole Security Forces. I’ll let Mark know you’re here. Would you like coffee or water while you wait?”
“No, thank you,” I turn down the offer, my stomach rolling just thinking about putting anything in it until after this meeting.
It’s been years since I’ve felt this nervous. It’s almost as if a storm is on the horizon. The atmosphere is buzzing with an energy I can’t place.
Zane whistles under his breath, clearly impressed with this place and not at all jumpy with the same anxiousness I am. Our eyes meet and years’ worth of knowing each other and what makes the other tick passes between us.
“Something big is happening,” Zane remarks and I feel some relief that maybe he does feel it too. I’ve learned to trust my instincts over the years and to pick up on my surroundings. Everyone around this office may be busy, but they all wear a look of tenseness about them.
I’m about to answer when another face joins us. He’s just a hair shorter than me, with blond hair styled back and piercing green eyes. “Gentlemen, I’m Mark Dixon. Thanks for taking a few days off to join us out here in Virginia Beach,” he says, while shaking each of our hands. The easy smile on his lips does not distract from the slight tightness around his eyes. I can already tell his role here at Cole Security Forces is of upmost importance.
“It’s an honor to be out here,” Zane answers, while I keep my mouth shut. I’m not quite sure yet how much I trust this man.
“Well, let’s head to my office. We’re on limited time right now as it is.” He gestures for us to follow him.
I let Zane slip between us and I fall back a few steps, taking in how everyone around here watches and reacts to Mark and our presence with him. A few nod their heads at us while others keep working. We follow Mark into an office and he closes the door behind us. A large screen hangs on the wall and a computer sits at a desk. I do a double take at the screen right as it flickers and images of Tric and the five other men he was on the mission with fill the screen.
“Right, so you are both familiar with one, if not all, members of this team. Their last mission, also known as, Operation Fallen. They were tasked with obtaining surveillance of a well-known and presumed ISIS ammunition dealer. This should have been a quick, easy in and out, with just a few pictures. Until they were ambushed,” Mark explains to us, sliding through pictures of landscape and of a few men in traditional Iraqi clothing, while others wear suits.
“Not to be morbid, but usually when we take on a mission, we go into it knowing there is a chance we could be made by our targets.” Zane tilts his head, his voice questioning.
“What about this mission put them on your radar?” I turn to Mark, who grins like I just answered the correct question on a test.
“Yes, Sergeant Thompson, we do go into missions hoping to come back. What we don’t always expect is this.” Mark flips the screen again and a video plays out. Miller, one of the guys on Tric’s team, opens fire on them. The man wearing the body cam falls to the ground and there is a moment of silence before Miller is escorted out by men wearing ISIS garb and suits.
“What the hell?” Zane hisses between his teeth, his fists are clenched and his face is turning red.
“That gentlemen is how this landed in our area. Loren Miller is now considered a traitor, and we need him to find out what his purpose is. In full disclosure, this isn’t the first time this has happened. We’ve now pieced together incidents like this happening at least fifteen times over the past seven years. No one had the time, until recently, to actively work on details,” Mark explains further. The screen shuts off and goes black.
“What are you needing from us?” I ask, my head still lowered. A dark cloud of anger settles around me and cloaks my body until it feels like I might suffocate within it.
“We have a team who is putting together a mission to find Miller and gather the rest of the surveillance that was taken. With your rank, deployment records, and affiliation with these soldiers from Fallen, we are recruiting you, if you are interested. I know how it is to lose a friend and to lose a team under questionable circumstances. We have an opening for two on the team. The jobs are yours if you want them.” The sincerity in Mark’s voice has my heart pausing. The man’s words ring with years of knowledge and the haunting echo of loss.
“Hell, I’m in.” Zane nods, his fingers rubbing over his lips.
My eyes dart between both men and land on Tric’s service picture that is taped to a board on the wall. “I’m in.”
“Alright. Before we can get started you both have to complete our testing process. I have appointments set up for you for tomorrow. We have a private place we refer out to, so the
site is not located here. You’ll have a physical, and then you’ll meet the team and get caught up,” Mark rattles off directions while handing us each a card.
I take mine and notice the time reads nine in the morning, before I shove the card into my pocket. Mark walks us out, while making small talk with Zane. My eyes keep focused on the ground and all the information I received today plays on loop in my brain. Tric’s death didn’t feel right and now we know why. I shake Mark’s hand at the door on autopilot and walk to the parking lot with Zane.
“Not really what I expected,” Zane says first.
“The offer or what happened to Tric?” My brow lifts.
Zane blows out a breath, his arms crossing over his chest. “The offer. It’s kind of unusual to pull in active members. Just a pair of E-7’s over here. We both know Tric’s death didn’t seem right. He was uneasy about this Miller for a few months now.”
I nod. “I remember. Dixon said his team knew what it was like to lose a friend. Maybe that’s why they came to us. Or the fact that an entire team is dead due to a traitor.”
“Your sergeant didn’t give you a hard time about leave?” Zane asks, and I shake my head no.
“Opposite actually,” my lips twitch, “he said he would be disappointed if I didn’t go.”
“Damn,” Zane replies, “I forget how bloodthirsty he can be.”
We both laugh before getting into the Uber that arrives to pick us up. Not surprisingly, we’re at the same hotel. I change into jeans and a button-up before meeting Zane in the lobby. We grab a bite to eat at a restaurant down the block and stay for a few beers. I tell him about AJ and my dad. Then I touch on that damn maple tree.
“You never listen.” Zane’s head shakes and he tosses back his drink.
I shrug. “I didn’t believe it. I had to see it with my own eyes.”
“Yeah, and how did that go?” Zane smirks.
“Felt like shit,” I answer, bringing my own glass to my lips. “I wanted to get out of there so bad, I felt like I was doing her a favor. I didn’t realize how much I actually hurt her.”
“Colt,” Zane says, his eyes narrowing, “are you serious right now? You two were inseparable. That girl loved you. I honestly thought you were going to get married after graduation, go to college then have that southern charm home with a few dogs and kids. I saw the way you looked at each other, we all did.”
Zane’s eyes fall to the table and I sense the change in his mood. “You never reached out to her?”
“What was I supposed to say? I hurt her too.” He shrugs, lips tightening into a straight line.
“It’s my fault,” I tell him, his eyes jump to mine. “I messed up.”
He blows out a breath. “Guess all we can hope for is that she is happy, healthy, and living her best life out there.”
“Yeah,” I agree, before throwing back the rest of my beer. Lyric does deserve her happily ever after. For some reason, though, that thought makes my chest squeeze in pain.
Chapter Eleven
Colt
My lungs are going to burst from the pressure, but my legs keep moving. I push the pain in my right kneecap from a training accident to the back of brain and work on how I’m going to survive this. Bullets whistle past my head. I dodge and duck, looking for where my out is. All I see is sand. I hear footsteps trailing me, but I can’t look back to see who it is. Who made it out alive with me?
Whoever it is, is keeping up, and soon, we’re sprinting side-by-side. Out of the corner of my eye, I see camo the same color as mine. My heart relaxes a fraction, realizing it’s one of my guys. “Street! Street!” he yells, and my head snaps to the side.
“Tric, Where is everyone?”
“They’re gone man,” he yells. “It’s just us. We can stop running.”
I shake my head. Bombs are exploding. I can hear screaming echoing and the dull thud of bullets being released from the chamber. “I can’t leave him.”
“He’s gone already, Street. Listen to me,” Tric’s gaze stays focused on me, “you can stop now.”
This doesn’t feel right. Why would he say this to me? My brain loops, and suddenly, Tric is gone. I’m leaning over a casket and when I turn around, my heart hammers louder.
When my alarm screeches, I jerk awake, the noise cutting through the darkness of the hotel room and yanking me back to reality. I sit up and turn the alarm off. The sheets are sticking to my torso and all the pillows are on the ground. It looks like I was running a marathon in my sleep.
Sweaty and slightly disoriented, I manage to make it into the shower. The water washes away what was left of my nightmare, and by the time I’m done, I feel normal again. I grab the business card I was handed yesterday. Bluebird Behavioral Testing is written in shiny blue lettering across the slate gray card. There is only an address and a number on the back. According to my maps, the address is a little over half an hour away. Glancing at my watch, I see I have plenty of time to stop for breakfast on the way.
On my way out, I send a quick text to Zane, checking in to see if he’s awake. His appointment is after mine and then we planned to get lunch and hit the gym before our endurance testing tomorrow.
Street: Heading out. Don’t forget your tie.
Z-Thom: Yeah, Ma. Worry about yourself.
I laugh at his middle finger emoji before pocketing my phone again. We received news last night that a company car would be dropped off for us to use to get to the places we needed to be the rest of the week. If everything goes well today and tomorrow, which it should, then I will be driving to Cole Security daily, while we train and plan. According to Mark, he would be overseeing Zane and me until our assessments are completed, and then we would be handed over to Brody Barker, the man who flew to Tennessee to recruit us.
After grabbing a strong coffee, which I definitely need before talking about my feelings and taking personality tests for three hours, I drive into the downtown area of Norfolk. The minute I park and find myself standing in front of a gray building, my heart starts to feel heavy. The hair on the back of my neck stands up and a ripple of awareness runs through my body. On instinct, my muscles tighten, ready for fight or flight. It takes a moment to register I’m still standing alone outside on the sidewalk. There are no signs of danger nearby.
“Get it together.” I mentally prep myself, before opening the door and heading inside. Little chimes alert the man behind the front desk of my arrival. His head snaps up, smiling.
“You must be Sergeant Street.” He stands and holds out a hand for me to shake.
“Yes.” I nod and take his hand.
“I’m Scott, welcome to Virginia. Alright, Mark already sent over the information he needs. All I need from you is your driver’s license and please fill out this form for family history,” he rattles off.
I hand him my license in exchange for the clipboard. I’m shown to a cushioned chair while I wait. My eyes scan over the checklist and I quickly add no or unknown to the boxes like I always do. Growing up how I did, I never learned any vital information on my family’s medical history. In all my years of physicals and exams, nothing life threatening has popped up so I just roll with it. When I’m finished, Scott takes my clipboard and hands back my identification card.
“You can follow me back to the room and she’ll be with you shortly.” Scott leads me into a room that is a couple degrees warmer than the reception area.
I sit on the opposite side of the desk in a comfortable chair. A bookshelf, with titles lined alphabetically, is across from me. The desk is relatively clutter-free, except for a lone picture frame of a group of people that sits on the corner. The flashy red ‘A’ on one of the guy’s sweatshirts has me leaning closer to take a better look. I swear time stops. The third person in, the girl with long, flowing dark hair and piercing blue eyes, the one wearing barely a smile is … Lyric.
Behind the frame sits a degree certificate. L. Taylor is printed in cursive. “No,” I say to myself, ready to stand when the door opens.
“Lyric.” Her name rolls off the tip of my tongue, the feeling foreign. I haven’t actually said her name out loud in years.
“How are you?” I ask, reining in some of the confidence I know I have somewhere.
“I’m good,” she answers, her mouth setting into a stiff smile.
It’s clinical, missing the usual warmth she has, and I realize she’s treating me like a client and not at all like the man she once loved. The one who she gave herself too and planned a life with. I falter slightly, the steady thrum in my chest becomes painful with the realization. Either she’s completely let go of what we had or she’s really good at acting. Why does it bother me? Why do I care?
“You can have a seat, we can jump right into the interviews. Mark said he told you what to expect today, but do you have any questions for me about the process?” Her lashes flutter while she talks to me, meeting my eyes and giving zero emotion.
My own eyes narrow, realizing she referred to him as Mark and not Mr. Dixon, meaning they’re familiar with one another. One glance at her ring finger and I relax a little bit. It’s still bare and there is no tan line or indentations to suggest a ring has been there.
Her eyebrow quirks and it’s the first hint she’s given that she realizes what I’m thinking. “You’re a therapist?” I ask, trying to ease the tension and get as much information out of her as I can in the small amount of time I have.
