SECRETS: Passion, Deceit, And Revenge (Beauty 0f Life Book 8)

by Laura Acton

  Coping Mechanisms

  36

  January 26

  CFB Edmonton – Quarters – 2230 Hours

  Mason checked over his shoulder, making sure Blaze kept the kid occupied as he dumped out Blondie’s beer. Winds was in rare form tonight and not using his best judgment when he snuck Blondie a second. Well, four can play this game. Borrowing the bottle, he replaced the contents with water and would enjoy Blondie’s reaction when he took a sip.

  Part of him understood why Winds reacted the way he did tonight. He was overcompensating. It occasionally happened when taking out a target with a deep emotional tie. And the hatred they all held for Puffy, was bottomless. The only problem, it made them question the rightness of their actions when internally they cheered for a man’s death.

  They all possessed different coping mechanisms. As soon as he finished with the court martial, Mason would take a trip home to his family and spend time with Cala, Nan, and Em. His sisters helped reground and remind him he was not a monster for taking the lives of evil men.

  As anticipated, Winds became the life of the party until he crashed, but Blaze would always ensure Winds had a soft landing. Those two were as much brothers of the heart as Brody and Blondie had been. One without the other was inconceivable. Winds had already turned down another promotion and shot at his own unit. Mason was glad Sutton didn’t force the two apart.

  Blaze, well, he became silent and stoic, almost a mirror of Blondie’s shields when he dealt with an emotional kill. The most pragmatic of them, Blaze did an internal review before filing the emotions away, never to be brought out again. And, Winds was there for Blaze too, ensuring everyone gave Blaze space and time to work through his feelings. But tonight, it was Winds dealing with all the emotional crap.

  Vessel filled, Mason moved back to his seat and slid the bottle back into place just before Blondie turned to pick up his drink. He grinned and relaxed in the comfy chair, waiting for the fun.

  Hiding his laugh Dan picked up his beverage, cognizant of Mason’s sleight of hand. Dan had no intention of consuming a second brew tonight, he planned to ignore what Winds slipped him, but he recognized Mason waited for a reaction to his substitution. So he took a swig and reclined before producing his trademark lopsided grin. “Beers’ tasty tonight isn’t it, Gorgeous?”

  “Dammit, you caught me!” Mason frowned. The kid is always aware.

  Winds asked, “Caught what?”

  Not coming clean with Winds, Dan said, “Nothing. Thanks for the second, but two’s my limit. Jim will lop off my head if I imbibe more.”

  “Aw, you weren’t supposed to tell I gave you another one.” Winds grabbed his fourth cold stout and took a long draw.

  Blaze sighed, but said, “Did you think we didn’t see, Winds? I mean, you gave him a different brand than his first.”

  Winds stared for a moment then burst out laughing. “Damn. I’m slipping in my old age.” He finished the fourth and reached for another.

  “Think you’ve knocked back enough,” Blaze said.

  “I don’t.” He popped the top on his fifth.

  “So, you want to appear hungover in front of all the brass tomorrow?” Blaze stood and took Winds’ ale as he declared, “I’m pulling rank. Switch to coffee, soda, or water.”

  Winds glared at Blaze. “Papa Bear, leave me the fuck alone.”

  Hazel eyes locked on to amber orbs. “No.”

  Reaching for his bottle, Winds missed. He was not drunk, no way four beers would put him under, but he stumbled nonetheless and would’ve fallen if Blaze had not caught him. Blaze set him in a chair and crouched down. “Alcohol is not the way to cope. We all understand what you’re going through.”

  Winds cast his eyes to his lap. “You don’t.”

  “Yes, we do,” Mason chimed in.

  Lifting his eyes, he scanned each of them before landing back on Mason. “No. You. Do. Not.”

  “Then explain.” Dan set his water down, leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands as he peered at Winds.

  Struggling to put his emotions into words, something the guys would find uncharacteristic for him, Winds stared up at the ceiling. When at last he acquired them, they came out soft. “I wanted to dance for joy. I desired to empty my clip into the bastard even after he was on the floor. I’m ecstatic I sent him to Hell. I’m angry I didn’t kill the son of a bitch the day he told Blaze ‘denied’ and proceeded to walk into his tent like Blondie’s life meant nothing.

  “If I had, none of the rest of the crap Puffy put the kid through would’ve happened. Hell, who knows how many deaths my action could’ve prevented. I’m questioning every goddamned mission Blondie ever went on. Did the men die because Plouffe arranged something? We will never fucking know now.”

  His eyes switched to Blondie. “He’s the one who gave the all clear.” Winds pounded his fist over his heart. “In here, right here. I know the fucking bastard did something to cause Brody’s death, but now we’ll never be able to prove a damned thing. I’m happy he’s dead, but we will, you will never have closure.”

  Dan drew in a long breath and gradually exhaled. “Regardless of who gave the cleared to fire order, I killed Brody. I shot too fast. If I took one moment, I would’ve recognized him. I became too focused on my objective and doing my job … kill them all and not let anyone escape alive.

  “That is one reason I can never be a soldier again. I can’t live with that mindset. TRF is different. Talk before tactics. Shoot only as a last resort. Sure, I must take lives on occasion, but it isn’t quite the same. We don’t go out for the specific purpose of ending a life. We endeavor to end situations with everyone unharmed, even the bad guys.”

  Holding Winds’ gaze he chose his words so he didn’t tell a lie, but didn’t reveal his thoughts, “Whatever you feel, happy, angry, glad he is dead, you must deal with them without alcohol. Express your emotions in some way and move on.” He sat back. “Jon likes to shoot a round of golf.”

  “Jon plays golf? He doesn’t strike me as the type of guy with the patience to chase a little white object around in the grass,” Winds said.

  Dan chuckled. “Not that kind of golfing. Come on. I’ll show you.”

  “Um, Blondie, where are we going?” Blaze rose.

  “A twenty-four-hour shooting range Brody and I used to visit when we were stationed here. Oh, and we gotta stop and buy string, tape, and golf balls.” Dan stood and retrieved his jacket from the hook. “My treat tonight.”

  CFB Edmonton – Officer’s Club – 2230 Hours

  William nursed his bourbon, mostly swirling the liquid in the tumbler, as he sat at a table with Tom and Mike. Though he ate a meal, he was unsure what he ordered or even how it tasted, with his mind consumed by other thoughts. Ordering two fingers of his favorite whiskey had been rote as well, although he was not in a mood to drink.

  His eyes remained across the room, staring at the Canadian Forces flag positioned in the corner next to a wall of distinguished men who served their country over the years. One photo, in particular, his gaze frequently strayed to. He had not seen the black and white photograph of his grandfather as a young man in ages. The one hanging on his study wall at home was a much older man.

  He couldn’t shake how much Daniel took after Winchester Theodore Broderick. As a lieutenant colonel, Winchester suffered deprivation while a POW during World War II. Though his experience was similar to Daniel’s, the captivity Winchester endured lacked the brutality of the terrorist who did not abide by Geneva Conventions. After the war, Winchester went on to attain the rank of major general.

  William lifted his glass, tilted slightly as if in salute to Winchester, and took a sip. Brodericks are soldiers through and through. My son is no different from his forefathers. With Plouffe now dead, Daniel will return to his roots.

  Tom noted the faraway countenance of William all evening. He finally broke his friend’s reverie. “Will, what’s on your mind?”

  Turning his he
ad to Tom, William noted Mike no longer sat with them. “Where’s Mike?”

  Chuckling, Tom shook his head. “You are definitely on another plane of existence, my friend. Galloway left an hour ago.”

  Staring at the empty chair where Mike should’ve been, where his security lead was the last time he checked, William sighed. “Damn good thing I’m in a secure environment. Not like me to let my guard down so fully as to not take note when Mike leaves.”

  “What is distracting you?” Tom imagined Will’s thoughts likely ran along the same lines as his … Plouffe’s treachery and relief the major was dead.

  After taking another sip of bourbon, William moved his hand toward the wall. “My grandfather’s photo is on that wall. It is of him as a lieutenant colonel before WWII. He and Daniel share many traits beyond appearances.”

  Tom smiled as he picked out the image. Though not in color, he plainly distinguished the Broderick characteristics. “Yes, Dan does take after him in appearance, so do you.”

  “Not only that, Winchester was a prisoner of war. He suffered many wounds, and he managed to bounce back and move up the ranks. Now that Plouffe can’t hurt Daniel and he has had time to heal from the loss of Hunter, I think it is time to approach him about returning to the military.

  “Perhaps I can swing a spot for him in the next Officer Training course, and he can rejoin as an officer and take command of a unit. We are in desperate need of men with his capabilities. It would be wonderful to be working with him now that things are sorted out between us.”

  Tom gaped at William, at a loss for words until an uncharacteristic, “Are you fucking kidding me?” burst out.

  Heads at other tables swiveled to stare at the colonel for the volume and use of foul language in the club, something which was frowned upon.

  William turned to Tom. “It is time he returned to where he belongs. Daniel is a soldier. He is not a constable. Military is in our blood. It is our legacy.”

  A hand covering his mouth, fingers gripping his chin, Tom’s eyes rolled as an exasperated sigh emitted. Dropping his hand, his tone brusque, Tom laid into William, “For the love of God, don’t start this again. Dan is not you. Don’t ruin what you now have, what you yearned to recover for so many years. Let the boy choose his path. Please. I’m begging you. Leave this in Dan’s hands. Let him come to you if he wants to return.”

  Downing the last of the bourbon, William stood. “He is my son. We are military men. When he exited, I bided my time while he healed. He is now stronger than before and won’t have to contend with the likes of Plouffe. Mark my words, Daniel will jump at the chance to come back.” With that, William pivoted and marched from the room.

  Tom finished off his whiskey and rose as well. He sighed as he strolled out. William is a stubborn, pigheaded man who, if not careful, is going to ruin the fledgling relationship with his son.

  Toronto – Lexa’s Home – 10:55 p.m.

  Carefully and slowly, Lexa pushed herself up out of her tub. Every muscle ached. Dan had been on her mind as she swayed, held by her tether, her body slamming into the wall multiple times while she clung to the distraught boy who toppled off the edge of the building when his captor pushed him away to flee. In a way, Dan was with them today, though not physically.

  When she saw the youngster go over, she knew her rappelling rope was fastened securely, so she jumped and managed to snag the falling child, shielding his little body with hers as they rammed into the unforgiving concrete twenty stories above the ground. While Boss and Bram hauled her and the boy to safety, Jon and Ray took the man down as he tried to run.

  Once on the rooftop and the paramedics took the child, the guys hovered around her insisting she go to the emergency room. She now understood why Dan became testy with all the mother-henning. Somehow, she maintained her calm as she repeatedly answered, “I’m alright.” Though, by the end of shift, which went three hours into overtime due to the hostage call and wrap-up, all she desired was to soak in a steamy bath filled with lavender salts.

  In debrief, Jon scolded her action, likening her ‘stunt’ as only something the damned rookie would pull. She channeled Dan as she bit back, “I would do it again in a heartbeat. I took a calculated risk. My line was secured. I saved the kid.” She smiled thinking of Dan. Yeah, I sounded a lot like him.

  After drying off, Lexa slipped into her fluffy robe and padded to her bed. A hiss escaped as she lay on her left side, so she turned to her right. A groan emitted this time. With no other choice, she rolled over on her stomach, the front of her the only place not bruised.

  Reaching out, she pulled Dan’s pillow to her … used to be her extra, but now she viewed it as his. She inhaled the lingering and fading scent of him. Drifting off to sleep, helped along by a dose of ibuprofen, chamomile tea, and her relaxing bath, Lexa’s mind conjured an image of her blue-eyed boyfriend. In her dream, Dan’s hands ghosted over her sore muscles, kneading them, taking care of her before he pulled her close, and cuddled her safe in his arms.

  Edmonton – Expedition Indoor Shooting Range – 2310 Hours

  Dan grinned as he drew two dots and a frown on the white golf ball with a red marker. The range staff was quite accommodating since he, Blaze, Winds, and Mason were the only customers at the moment. He was glad the place still existed and remained a twenty-four-hour range. Being close to the base, most of their clientele were soldiers so they catered to their odd hours and maintained an array of weapons for rental. They all selected rifles, he went with the latest Remi while the guys chose C14 Timberwolves.

  Capping the marker, he taped the string to it and tied the line to the mechanism which moved targets to and from the shooter to the back wall. He pressed the button, sending the target as far back as it would go. When it stopped, the ball swung crazily to and fro. Dan turned to his brothers. “So this is shooting golf. The one with the lowest number of shots taken to hit a moving ball wins.” He donned his protective eye and ear gear then positioned himself against the rifle and took aim.

  Blaze noted the broad smile on Winds’ face. Blondie’s idea would give Winds an outlet for his pent-up anger and relieve stress for them all, though he did wonder why Blondie drew a frowny face on his ball. They all smiled as the best sniper in Canada blew the tiny sphere to bits with one shot.

  Turning to the others, Dan directed his remark to Winds. “I offed Plouffe.”

  Chuckling, Winds picked up Dan’s marker and drew faces on all his yellow balls. “Ten bucks says I beat you tonight. Twenty Puffy’s, twenty shots. I’m gonna off Plouffe to my heart’s content.”

  Blaze patted Blondie’s shoulder as Mason began taping lengths of string on the yellow Plouffe balls. “Smart idea, kid.”

  Dan sighed. “You ever gonna stop calling me kid?”

  “Nope.” Blaze stepped to his stall, and when Winds finished drawing, he grabbed the pen and created twenty blue Plouffe’s to off. This way they would all exorcise the demon who brought misery into their lives for many years.

  When Dan’s phone began buzzing, he pulled it out and answered, “Boss, thanks for returning my call.”

  Tired, Nick plopped into his chair. He missed a call from Dan and now was the first opportunity he had to return it. “Busy day. What can I do for you?”

  “Hang on a moment.” As Winds prepared to shoot, Dan motioned to Blaze, showing him the phone and moved to the exit to step into a quieter area. When the door closed, Dan rested against the wall. “I have news, but you can only tell the team, and no one can make public statements.”

  Intrigued, Nick sat a little straighter. “Alright.”

  Dan glanced around him, noting one of the employees, he chose words Boss would understand. “Things escalated to the red zone, and Winds took a PapaGolf shot, neutralizing the subject today.”

  “Are you saying Plouffe is dead?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How?” Nick’s exhausted mind caught up. “Not how. I understand Winds shot him, but why? I mean, in a courtroom?”


  Sighing Dan said, “Someone supplied him a weapon, probably whoever was his go-between with Tapia. There is an ongoing investigation of the staff to determine the responsible party.”

  “Everyone okay? You, your father …”

  “Yeah, not a scratch, though the strangest thing happened. I can’t figure out how his bullet ended up where it did. My father thinks it landed someplace else and somehow someone kicked it without realizing they did. Damnedest thing. I must be back at the hearing in the morning. I’m not sure how long I must stay here, but I might be returning to Toronto tomorrow.”

  Nick smiled. “That would be great. We’re all missing you. Oh, and if so, you’ll be here in time for Bram’s birthday party. Kellie is throwing a little get together at their house on the twenty-ninth since we are off and his birthday is on the thirtieth.”

  “Sounds fun. I gotta go. Need to win a bet against Winds.”

  “Take care, Dan.” Nick hung up and checked the time. Too late to call the team. Today had been grueling for each of them. Rising, he shuffled to his bedroom, glad they canceled workout, and he could sleep until six. He decided to stop by Timmy’s on his way into HQ and bring a treat to them.

  Dan pushed off the brick wall and shoved his phone into his pocket. I miss my teammates too, especially Sexy Lexie. He had an intense desire to talk to her but realized she would be asleep by now since workout would start at five a.m. Opening the range door, Dan was greeted with laughter and Mason’s bass voice shouting, “Another Puffy is fluffy now! Man, I love this game.”

  Another round from Winds’ rifle sealed the fate of another effigy Plouffe as he worked out his anger and conflicting emotions.

  Dan glanced at his brothers. He missed working with them, but he could never be a soldier again … ever. Hell will have to freeze over before I would ever consider going back, and that ain’t happening.

  Club Ed – Interview Room – 2345 Hours

  Javon Nicholls stared uncomprehendingly as if the lieutenant spoke gibberish. His mind whirled as he tried to resolve the fact he threw his life away and he had not gotten the revenge he craved, the vengeance Josh deserved. The words being spoken congealed and he repeated them in monotone. “Broderick isn’t dead, and Plouffe is.”