I’m voluntarily walking back into hell.
But today, I’m still earning my wings.
“Can’t believe I was scared shitless the first time we did this,” Darren says, as we check and double-check our pack. “Now I want to go even higher.”
“Damn straight. This is the shit the average guy never gets to do in his life. Hooah.”
He grins at me. “Unless that average guy has a billionaire daddy. What you on now? One hundred and twenty six?”
“Seven. But who’s counting.”
“Think the paparazzi will show up at this graduation?”
I groan. “God, I hope not.”
He grows more serious. “What about your parents? Are they coming?”
“Nope.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Didn’t invite them.”
He sets down his pack and stands up. “You should.”
“Nope.”
“I repeat, why the hell not?”
I look up at him. “It’s complicated.”
Darren narrows his eyes at me. “I might not be rolling in dough, but I understand words when they’re strung together. You can talk to me, you know.”
Scrubbing my hands over my face, I stand up too. “I know. Thanks. Maybe another time.”
He grins and claps a hand on my shoulder. “Alright. Just don’t let me read it in The Enquirer first.”
It’s late afternoon and I’m … guess what? … yep, practicing. Practicing the landing roll, which I could now do in my sleep. We’re officially on free time and many of the men have gone off-site for a few hours of R&R with family members who have flown in for graduation.
It’s a nice day in Georgia, even though it’s still winter. I like it here. Especially those sexy southern drawls. Not that I’m tempted by any of the southern belles attached to them. I’ve got Mattie. She’s the only woman for me.
We talk as much as possible by Skype. We even had Skype-sex a few times. That was hot. Watching Mattie stretch out on her bed, move her hand between her thighs and masturbate while I pumped myself on this end.
“You still going to Air Assault School,” Darren asks. His family won’t be here until tomorrow, so he’s hanging back with me.
“Pretty sure. It’ll give me something to do while I wait for the Ranger selection and application process to go through.”
“Heard it was tough.”
“Yep. Heard that too. It’s a win-win. Get to rappel out of helos and get in shape for Rangers too.”
I look up as the whop-whop-whop of helicopter blades get closer.
Darren looks up too. “Probably the general. Heard he’s supposed to be here for the night jump tonight.”
Even from a distance, the sand from Sand Hill is whipped up by the rotors, reminding me of a giant blow dryer. The dust blows in my face and thankfully, I have on my safety goggles. My cheeks aren’t so lucky.
I watch the helo hover over the landing zone and turn away, wanting to give the sand my back. I hear a pop and, out of the corner of my eye, I see the helo drop suddenly and almost turn on its side.
The impact happens in slow motion.
Metal screams and the rotors of the converted Black Hawk tear through earth like knives carving through butter. Then they break off and I dive on top of Darren, trying to avoid being hit by a huge chunk of metal.
Before the crash is fully over, I’m on the run, checking out the structure as I go. The copter looks to be in one piece other than a bent tail and destroyed rotors.
The smell of burning electric wires permeates the silence. Dead silence. Not even the birds are singing. Then, all hell breaks loose.
Men are running. Shouts coming in all directions. I was one of the closest, so I get there first.
As I get to the pilot’s door, he motions for me to open the rear slider. He appears to be only mildly injured, but I’m worried about a fire. I hear the sound of sirens, but they seem a mile away. I pull on the handle to open the rear door, and it doesn’t move.
Shit!
I quickly try the pilot’s door, and it too, is jammed. I pull my shirt over my head and wrap it around my fist. It bounces off the bulletproof glass with a thud and hurts like a mother. The pilot is kicking at the window from the inside, but it won’t pop out. I round the copter, looking for secondary entrances when I see the co-pilot slumped against the door. He isn’t moving.
Heat and smell grow furiously around me. Shit. The back tail rotor is consumed. There’s a fracture in the tail area and smoke is coming out. I take my canteen and pour water over my t-shirt before pulling it over my face. The smell of burning plastic and oil cuts through the shirt as if it didn’t exist, but at least the smoke isn’t getting in my lungs.
I push against the back part of the tail, careful of the fire, and hear a slight groan. This may work. I put all my body weight into it and the crack becomes slightly larger. I move to the very end of the tail and push with my shoulder, then other soldiers join me.
“Push!”
“Push!”
“Push!”
We get into a rhythm and I feel the metal give way a little bit each time we push. I feel the burn, but my adrenaline is going. I turn and use my ass and hips to push, digging my heels into the dirt for more leverage.
“Push!”
The fire is getting bigger and I hear coughing. I push again. The opening is a little larger, but this isn’t going to work.
“Keep pushing, guys!”
I look at the sliding door and realize it’s off its track. I look around, but see nothing I can use to pry it open with. I notice a good size granite rock and grab it. Where the hell are the fire crews?
I beat on the wheel of the doorway, but it doesn’t want to move. I notice the pilot moving toward the back and he’s kicking the door from the inside. Smoke is still pouring out of the tail and I can feel the heat on the metal.
We need to get in and get in now.
I see him. I see the pilot kicking the little door in front of the slider. I didn’t realize that opened until now. I grab the handle and pull as he kicks. I fly backward, losing my balance and fall on my ass.
Totally worth it. The door is open and the pilot is trying to move the people in back.
The smoke is getting worse; it’s now pouring out the open hatch. “Listen buddy,” I say to the pilot, forgetting all Army protocol. “You need help. Look at your leg.”
“I’ll be fine. Help me get the general out.”
“We will. We’ve got to clear a path first.”
The pilot grabs a woman in a navy suit who is lying in front of the general, unconscious. He hands her to me through the hatch and I turn with her and give her to the soldier behind me. He turns and runs to a safe distance.
The pilot is coughing uncontrollably, his leg pouring blood. I climb in to help him. It’s clear he isn’t going to leave.
I kneel by the general, checking for life. There’s a pulse and respiration, and I hate to move him, but he will surely die in here.
Hiss!
The smoke grows thick and white, terrible as water streams onto the fire. White smoke is better than black smoke. I know that. But it doesn’t feel better to breathe it in.
Unharnessing the general, I pull him up and his dead weight throws me into the forward bulkhead, but that helps me keep my balance. I grab him under his armpits, trying to keep his head steady and get him to the door.
“Careful,” I say to the men who take him from me. “Someone hold his neck still.” Then I go back in.
Sergeant Ingle joins us inside as do two other sergeants. They’d been in a meeting and had been on the other side of the base. Together, we quickly get the rest of the passengers out of the helo. The unconscious co-pilot too.
After a final sweep, we all jump out and breathe in the clean air, moving away from the aircraft.
I sit down, my legs growing weak as the adrenaline eased away. Darren plops down beside me.
“Good job in there,” S
ergeant Ingle says and drops beside us.
“Thanks, Sarge. Just glad we were nearby. Can’t believe the timing. Ninety percent of us were off base.”
He claps me on the back. Then Darren. “I’m sure the general will appreciate your efforts. I know the US Army does.”
I smile over at him. “The US Army has trained me well.”
Pushing to his feet, the sergeant sticks out a hand and pulls me to mine. “You’ll both make fine Rangers. Now, let’s go get cleaned up. We’ve got a night jump to get ready for.”
“Hooah!” Darren and I say in unison.
Chapter 11
Three years later…
I turn off the shower and wrap a towel around my waist, gathering my supplies as I go. Heading toward my locker, I stop short when I see him.
Holy fuck. It’s General Miles.
I drop everything—except the towel—and snap to attention.
“At ease, Corporal Duffy,” the older man says and gives me a little smile. “I’d like a word with you. Go ahead and change. I’m sure you’re feeling a little, uh, self-conscious at the moment.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He nods and limps away, leaning heavily on his cane.
Two minutes later, I’m dressed and in front of him again. He looks like he’s aged ten years since I pulled him from the helo.
“I never got the chance to personally thank you for your heroism that day. Not a real thank you, anyway.” He taps his leg with his cane. “When I learned you were here, I wanted to right that wrong.”
“You’re very welcome, sir. It’s good to see you looking so well.”
He laughs. “Me too, son. I understand this last mission was a close one. How are those ribs?”
I inhale deeply, feeling the twinge of the six healing ribs that had snapped during an undercover mission. Six snapped ribs. Six released prisoners of war who are now back in America with their families. And twenty dead bad guys.
I’d snap ribs every day for those types of rewards.
‘He gestures to the Soldier’s Medal I’d received following the day I’d jumped in the helo to pull him out. It’s nestled proudly next to the other medals and badges I’d earned over the past few years. “You’ve done me proud.”
“I really can’t thank you enough, sir. Ranger training was the best thing I’ve ever done and I appreciate your … support … in getting me in so quickly.”
He nods, then stops and meets my eye. “You don’t know, do you?”
I frown. “Know what, sir?”
“I never pulled any strings to get you in. I looked into it. A little thank you, so to say, for your heroism that day. But, you were already on the list. You’d made it on your own. Had nothing to do with me.” He pauses. “Or your father.”
I search his eyes, seeking the truth. I find it and the relief of that new knowledge floods through me. I did do this on my own. He didn’t pull the strings. I made it into and through Ranger by myself.
“Thank you for telling me that, sir.”
Heat burns behind my nose and I blink, fighting the emotion I didn’t know was right under the surface. I really did it on my own. I also didn’t know how badly I needed to hear it.
“What’s next for you, son?” General Miles asks. “The Army is sure sorry to see you go.”
Mattie.
Mattie is next for me.
I grin at him. “With four months left to go, I’m still trying to figure that out. Can’t imagine a nine to five job out in the real world. Don’t want to work for my father.” I shrug. “I’ll figure it out.”
General Miles stands and sticks out his hand. I’m on my feet and responding before he has it all the way extended.
“Good luck to you, son. I’m sure that whatever you choose to do, you’ll do it well.” He narrows his eyes. “Just stay out of the tabloids until you’re released.”
I can’t help it. I groan. I’d been on leave in the summer and had taken Mattie to Hawaii for a few days. The next week, I’m on the front page of six of the nastiest tabloids in the states.
About my tattoo!
Not about my service record. Not about my medals. Not about my sharpshooting record.
No. The headline had read: Billionaire Playboy Shows Off Newest Tattoo While on Leave from Ranger Duty. There was a picture of me in my trunks, coming out of the ocean.
The guys had given me hell.
I look around me. The metal bunks. Sheets washed so many times they stand on their own. The scars on my hands. Broken bones too numerous to count.
Billionaire playboy my ass.
“I’ll do my best, sir. Too bad I can’t drop a bomb on them.”
“It’d be the best use of a bomb I know of.” He claps me on the shoulder. “Take care of yourself, Corporal Duffy.”
“Thank you, sir. I intend to.”
Checking my watch for the hundredth time, I’m happy as hell to see it’s finally six p.m. Mattie time!
I open my laptop and click on Skype, clicking the video button.
It rings and I stare at the screen, anticipation at seeing those blue eyes filling me.
Weird.
She doesn’t pick up. I click the button again.
Nothing. She’s probably just running late. I’ll give her five minutes and try again.
Five minutes pass. Nothing.
A half hour passes. Nothing.
Two hours later. Still nothing.
“Hey, man, call her,” T-rod says, lounging on his bunk, reading something on a Kindle.
“I did,” I snap and immediately throw up a hand. “Sorry. She’s never been this late.”
“Chill.” It’s Darren this time, looking up from his laptop.
Easy for him to say. He married Julie last year. I’d been his best man. Now, they have a little Darren or Darrenette on the way.
“I know. Something’s not right.”
“Call her mom or dad. They might know something.”
I look at my watch again. It’s early in California. But… “She’s at school. She’s having trouble with one of her classes. If she flunks it, she doesn’t graduate in May. She’s getting tutoring every Tuesday and Thursday night, but she should have been finished by now.”
I continue to pace the floor.
A half hour later, my computer rings. It’s a beautiful sound.
Darren looks up. “See, all is right in the world.”
I ignore him and sit down at the table, clicking the button to accept the video call.
Then she’s there, but her eyes and cheeks are red. She’s pressing a tissue to her nose.
“Mattie! What’s wrong?”
She opens her mouth to talk and starts crying instead, huge heaving sobs that pull at my heart.
“Sweetheart. Talk to me.”
I hear a chair scrape back and see Darren stand. T-rod’s bunk squeaks as he sits up. Other movements from the other guys, but I ignore them. I watch Mattie continue to cry. Waiting. Being patient. Giving her time to get it out.
Finally, she sniffs and reaches toward something I can’t see. She lifts a bottle of water to her lips.
“I’m sorry, Link,” she begins and starts to cry again.
“Mattie, you’re scaring me. Take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong.”
Had something happened to her mom? Her dad? Had she been … hurt … walking across campus. I look at her closely. I can’t see any visible signs of injury. But, if she’d been raped…
I shake my head to clear it of that thought.
“Come on, Mattie. Breathe. Whatever it is, we’ll get through it.”
This makes her cry harder and she drops her face in her hands.
Dammit.
This is worse than waiting to jump from twenty-thousand feet into a wall of bullets.
“Link,” she finally says. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry to do this to you.”
To me? “What—?”
“I’m pregnant.”
I blow out a breath. Pregnant.
I’m going to be a father?
Hell yeah!
I’m going to be a father! I do a quick mental calculation. We’d been together two months ago, so…
“Sweetheart, that’s terrific. We’re going—”
“Link,” she interrupts me, her voice cracking again. “It’s not yours.”
Time stops and a black void opens up in front of me. I vaguely hear Darren say, “Oh fuck.”
“Link. I’m so sorry. I’m—”
I push back from the table. “Four months, Mattie. I’m supposed to be out of here in four months.” My voice is dead, the life stripped from each word.
She sobs. “I know.” She looks into the camera, directly at me through the screen. Those eyes shiny with tears. “Four years ended up being too long after all.”
“So you love him? Is that what you’re saying?”
She wraps her arms around herself and begins rocking, crying again.
I shout at her. “Tell me!”
She jumps and looks at the camera again. “Yes.” The word is soft, but I also see it on her lips. “I’m so sorry. I never meant for—”
I reach forward and gently, with all the control I can muster, close the laptop lid.
The room is completely silent.
Darren breaks it. “Fuck, man. I’m—”
I can’t hear the word again. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Like the word is magic and sprinkling it on a broken heart will glue it back together.
I run and slam out of the door and into the darkening evening. I turn left and slow my pace. Control. I’m in control. Left. Right. Left. Full control.
Damn women. Fuck them. Fuck all of them.
I hammer on the door of the officer in charge. Wait, then hammer again.
Major General Voit opens the door, pulling on a shirt. I salute automatically and wait for the expected ‘at ease.’
“What’s the problem, Corporal Duffy?”
Problem.
A simple word with no simple answer. I give it my best shot.
“I want to re-enlist, sir. And I want to begin training for the Green Berets.”
Badass (Book 1) — Collision Course
Chapter 1 – Grace
A mailbox can be an enemy or a best friend.
I stare at mine as I turn into the driveway of the home we moved into just last month. It’s our first real home since we got married two years ago. A huge step up from the little one-bedroom apartment we’d been living in over my parent’s garage while we saved for the twenty percent down payment.
Badass - The Complete Series: A Billionaire Military Romance Page 6
