We Thought We Knew It All (Invincible Book 2)

by Michelle Lynn

  We Thought We Knew It All

  Invincible Book 2

  Michelle Lynn

  Copyright (C) 2017 Michelle Lynn

  Layout design and Copyright (C) 2017 by Creativia

  Published 2017 by Creativia

  Cover art by

  http://www.thecovercollection.com/

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Michelle Lynn

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  About Michelle

  Acknowledgments

  For the ones who are always there.

  When I'm at my best. When I'm at my worst. When I don't know what I am.

  When I'm broken. When I'm strong. When I no longer feel invincible. When I think I know it all. And when I'm so very very wrong.

  This book is for the people who care and forgive and love no matter what.

  We can all use a bit more of that because life isn't perfect, we are not perfect. We're made up of little pieces that have been shattered and fused time and again to create something beautiful, something strong, something invincible.

  Also by Michelle Lynn

  The Invincible Series

  We Thought We Were Invincible

  The Dawn of Rebellion series

  Dawn of Rebellion

  Day of Reckoning

  Eve of Tomorrow

  The New Beginnings series

  Choices

  Promises

  Dreams

  Confessions

  There is a calm in the middle of uncertainty;

  A peace amid the storm.

  At a time when knowledge guides,

  And children grow

  To realize what they've learned.

  Through hardship

  And trying times

  It was the people that we knew

  Who gave love

  And took love

  That made our place

  A home

  Chapter One

  Jamie:

  I ducked down low, hidden in a patch of trees off to the side of the road. Hartley flanked me on the right with Raddich on the left. The rest of the platoon wasn't far behind, but we didn't have time to wait for them. The building across the street was our target.

  We'd left our vehicles a little ways back, needing stealth to take us the rest of the way.

  I looked to Hartley, her eyes signaling to me that she was in agreement. Raddich motioned us forward.

  The dust kicked up under our feet as we sprinted into position. A simple snatch and grab. Our intelligence said he was alone, but that'd been hours ago, and he'd probably moved on by now.

  I pressed myself up against the stone wall at my back and gripped my M4 tighter. Raddich, our team leader, nodded and ducked into the side door.

  Gun fire erupted as soon as he did, shattering the silence of the night.

  I ran in, followed closely by Hartley. Barely glancing up, I raised my gun and fired, hitting both shooters in quick succession. They dropped with loud yells and I kept my gun trained on them until they no longer moved.

  Hartley ran to Raddich, her med kit already in her hands. Blood gushed between her fingers as she put pressure on the wound in his abdomen.

  “Shit,” I said, snapping to action. “I'm going to search the rest of the house. Barrette and his crew should be here any second.”

  They'd been held up at the last house we searched, sending us ahead to what was supposed to be a precautionary search. We didn't actually expect to find our target here anymore.

  “Did you check them?” She nodded towards the dead men nearby.

  “Not him.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes,” I snapped, turning to search another room. I couldn't just sit there and watch a man die. Because that was what was happening. I'd seen enough bullet wounds to realize a hopeless case.

  We'd been in Somalia for longer than anyone was comfortable with and our mission still eluded us. It was wearing on all our nerves and Raddich wasn't our first loss. I had to steel myself. Hartley would be much better at comforting him than I would. She'd done it for me two years ago when I thought I was dead. Shaking my head, I realized the differences. I didn't die. I got the girl.

  God, I was pathetic. I couldn't even hold his hand, knowing how it'd haunt me later. They always haunted me.

  “Clear,” I called back once I'd checked the last room. Mission still incomplete. Brother in arms dead.

  Rangers lead the way. Well, not these Rangers.

  Something fell to the ground in the front room and I picked up my pace, bursting through the door just in time to witness the knife drag across Hartley's throat.

  What felt like a sledge hammer crashed into me from behind and I was falling. My knees slammed into the dirt floor seconds before my face followed and everything went dark.

  * * *

  My eyes popped open in the darkened room. Manner's heavy snores sounded like a chainsaw as they came through the wall.

  I lifted a heavy hand to rub my sweat-soaked face.

  That dream was all wrong. Again.

  Jessica Hartley died in Somalia one year ago. That was true. She wasn't supposed to be in combat, and that would forever weigh on me. We were down a medic and I'd let her climb into the truck back at base.

  Her death didn't make a difference. Our mission went unfinished when they pulled us out. We didn't get our man and none of us could forgive ourselves. Glenn Raddich had also died that day. A good man.

  But I'd come home in one piece. The rest of the events of that day were still a blur. I remembered the rest of the team showing up and sounds of a firefight.

  I shook my head, trying to clear it. There were six months separating that from the day I was taken in Nigeria. They shot me and held me for a total of ten hours before my brothers showed up to get my ass out of there. The medic who'd replaced Jess said it was just in time too because I was bleeding like nobody's business.

  I hadn't been sent on a mission since. Nerve damage. Shit.

  The dream replayed in my mind as I tried to shut my eyes. It was my fault Jess was dead. Two years together and I got her killed. I let her come with us. We all did.

  “Hell,” I grumbled, sitting up and swinging my legs out of bed.

  Passing Manner's room, I headed out into the common room where I found my platoon leader, Barrett
e.

  His cropped black hair was pushed to the side, probably from sleep, and his eyes were glazed. I blamed the bottle of tequila in front of him for that. He turned down the TV and looked at me.

  “Couldn't sleep, Daniels?” he asked.

  I sunk into a chair across from him and ran a hand over the top of my head. I'd never told the guys about my dreams. We all had our demons. It came with the territory.

  “A lot on my mind.”

  “There's a cure for that.” He gestured to the bottle.

  I chuckled with a forced smile. “What the hell? Tomorrow is an off day.”

  “Exactly.”

  Zane Barrette was hard as nails when it came to training and missions, but he was also a good buddy. Our entire platoon was close, but Zane was the best friend I'd had since … I shook my head. I stopped thinking about that years ago.

  Taking the shot Zane was offering me, I threw it back and set the glass down for another. He smiled and poured. We'd spent many nights like this since our Somalia mission. Even though neither of us would admit it, we both blamed ourselves. He thought he should have been there sooner.

  “My enlistment is almost up,” I said as if he didn't know.

  “Yeah?” He waited for me and when I didn't say anything, he asked, “what are you thinking?”

  I raised my arm, flexing my fingers as best I could. “It's only been six months.”

  “But?”

  Pain shot through my arm. Asshole knew me too well.

  I sighed. “It should be better than it is. Doc doesn't think it will be. Too much damage.”

  “Hmm …” He turned to the TV, his mouth suddenly going slack.

  I followed his gaze, my eyes landing on my father's face for the first time in ten years. Zane turned the volume up.

  Senator Daniels service will be held in Washington D.C. for close friends and family before a second service in his home town of Gulf City, Florida.

  “Service,” I croaked. “What the fuck?”

  The broadcaster went on to explain about the car accident that took Senator Daniels's life the day before.

  Barrette held out another shot and I accepted it with shaking hands. It slid down my throat, the warmth keeping the ice out of my veins.

  Feel something, dammit. I told myself. Be a normal human being. But I wasn't normal. I was one messed up mother-fucker with daddy issues the size of Texas.

  My father was dead and I couldn't seem to care.

  * * *

  Sergeant Carlson sat behind his desk with a face of stone. His eyes flicked up towards me, then to the empty chair nearby. A command.

  I was a different man than I used to be. There weren't many things that made me nervous. That office, that man, did.

  I wiped my hands on my pants and sat down, keeping my back ramrod straight. Show no weakness. Have no fear. Barrette was in the habit of saying that before every mission.

  “I'm sorry to hear about your father,” the sergeant said, folding his hands together on his desk.

  I looked up in surprise, meeting his gaze.

  “I don't know if I ever told you, but I met your father when he came to the base after you were injured. Good man.”

  My brain didn't have time to dwell on the good man part because it'd frozen before that. “My father was here?”

  He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing me carefully. “He came to see me to get a report on your condition. Of course, I couldn't tell him much since you were overseas, but I assumed he would contact you.”

  “I don't even know how he would've found out about it.” But I did. My father always seemed to be able to find any information he searched for. He was sneaky and smarmy enough to know everything.

  My damaged hand spasmed painfully and I clenched my teeth to keep from crying out. The stress was making it worse, but I couldn't let that show.

  Sergeant Carlson looked away when my arm jerked against my side. He didn't want to show that he saw. I didn't know if that made it better or worse.

  “Daniels,” he said, back to his commanding self. “I know today is difficult for you with your father's death, but maybe this is a good time to re-evaluate.”

  “Re-evaluate, Sir?” I asked, prying my fingers flat against the palm of my other hand.

  “Son, let's cut to the chase. Your enlistment is almost up and I can't have you in my regiment any longer.”

  “Sir - “

  He put a hand up to stop me. “You are unfit for the kinds of missions I need to be sending my men on.”

  I felt my posture starting to slip and snapped it back into place. I would not show that man just how right he was.

  “I think you're wrong, Sir.”

  “Of course you do, dammit. You wouldn't be a Ranger if you weren't willing to risk life and limb out there. But I am not sending a solider into the lion's den when he might not be able to hold his damn weapon.”

  Each word he spoke was like another shot to the arm.

  “We would have discharged you months ago, but doc was hopeful. Now he isn't.” He stood up, walking around his desk to face me and put a hand on my shoulder. “Go home, son. Mourn your father. Be with your family. I'm putting you on leave for the last few weeks of your enlistment.”

  He opened the door, nodding at me that I was dismissed.

  As I walked back to my room, a million scenarios ran through my head showing why my dad would have come. Even in death he had a hold over me.

  But it wasn't because he was family. Never that.

  Sergeant Carlson told me to go be with family and I couldn't help the feeling that I wasn't moving towards it. I was leaving it behind.

  Chapter Two

  Callie:

  “California R-McCoy here.” I mentally kicked myself for almost doing it again. California Ryan was another life.

  “Ms. McCoy, this is Isabel Knight,” the voice on the other line said. “From A and P productions.”

  Does that stand for arrogant and pushy? I wondered.

  “Yes, I talked to someone from your studio yesterday.” I sat on the bed to pull on a pair of socks as someone started banging on the door.

  “Mom!” It was my middle kid, Liam.

  “I want to talk about optioning your book.” The woman on the line wouldn't quit.

  “Are you coming out, Mom?” Liam yelled again.

  I searched the floor for my shoes, wishing once again that I'd gotten the organization gene my brother had.

  “Aha,” I mumbled to myself, finding a pair of sneakers.

  “Mom.”

  “Ms. McCoy.”

  “Cal, you coming?” Of course, throw my father into the mix.

  “Ms. Knight,” I said. “I'm sorry you've wasted your time. The rights to Emma are not for sale and if they were, Hendrick's productions would be first on the list. Have a good day.” I hung up and jammed it in my pocket before swinging open my door to find Liam and his younger brother Declan waiting.

  “Hi, guys.” I ruffled Liam's copper hair and swung Declan up into my arms. “What has grandpa made for breakfast?”

  “Star Wars pancakes.” Liam's smile widened and my gut clenched slightly. It was getting better, but Liam and Declan both looked so much like their father - perpetually tanned skin, copper hair, and deep mesmerizing green eyes. Jackson, the oldest, was more like me in every aspect.

  “Morning dad.” I leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. We'd been living with him for the past eight months. I would have felt bad, but I thought he secretly liked us all here and his house was definitely big enough.

  “Hi, darlin'.” He smiled. “Heard you up bright and early on the phone.”

  “A and P again.” I rolled my eyes and started cutting up a pancake for Declan. “I told them I already had a buyer for Emma.”

  “You would if you'd actually let me buy it.”

  “I thought we were done with this conversation,” my brother, Colby, said walking into the room. “She says it took her nine years to finish the damn thing - her wo
rd, not mine. And you said that's why you should handle it and no one else. Did I miss anything or can I go play with my nephews?”

  He shot me a wink as he plucked Declan from my arms and took his plate from the counter.

  It was always strange seeing Colby in L.A. He felt like home, but not this home. I'd been in California for almost ten years now. One marriage, three kids, and a book later and I didn't feel much different from when I came. I was still scared and sarcastic and aimless. Now I just had more responsibility.

  When Colby came to visit, it reminded me of all of that, but of good things too. He was always telling me to relax, to have fun. Sometimes I forgot to do both. Kat and Jay were regular visitors over the years, but I never went to them. Kids were my excuse, but I had my other reasons.

  Too many memories. I still woke up some nights and listened for footsteps outside the door or saw the faces from that locker room out on the street. The shooting was ten years ago, but some things never faded from memory.

  While the kids ate, I scrolled through emails on my phone. A and P again. When were they going to stop? It took me nine years of starting and stopping to produce a finished book. My mother's story. The beginning of mine. The mystery of Emma Bay was now solved for the world. I wrote it under the name C. Bay, but many who knew my father made the connection.

  I refused every interview request and my publisher hated me for it at first. Then the sales numbers quieted them down. It turned out, the people wanted to know the truth behind one of Hollywood's big mysteries.

  I was eighteen when I found out my mother was the Hollywood starlet who disappeared from prying eyes. Emma Bay wasn't her real name, allowing her to melt into small town Florida in order to escape the father of her boyfriend, my grandfather. God, it was such a mess and every time I thought about it, I felt so sad for her.

  But she had a good life with us before she died. I think. We were twelve - old enough to remember her as happy.

  It wasn't until I got to know my dad that I realized everything she'd left behind.

  Now it was me walking away from the man I thought I'd loved. Only this time, he didn't love me back.

  I shoved Dylan from my mind and joined the boys at the table. He didn't stay gone for long when I looked into their faces.