by Bella Juarez
JJ couldn’t tell Dixie what was really bothering him. He couldn’t describe the emptiness at having part of his soul ripped from him. Getting up every morning and going through the routine of his day was survival at this point in his life. Everything he did lacked the passion it once had. He had nothing to lose and nothing to look forward to.
“You want to cut me loose? Fine! Fuck you, Dixie! Put my fucking papers through and let me retire. I’m not resting until I prove that son of a bitch was here and his fucking mother is a lying bitch!” JJ said angrily.
“JJ, walk away. Take a couple of days of leave and come back. We’ll talk again after you calm down,” Dixie said calmly.
“I don’t need a couple of days of leave to come back and tell you to fuck off and shove it up your ass, Dixie!” JJ growled as he stormed out of the office.
JJ took two weeks of leave because he was on a mission. He had declared his own jihad on the bastard who’d ruined his life. Days and nights started running together because of the lack of sleep and blinding fixation to prove what he knew to be fact. He used every contact he had in the clandestine world to prove that Commander Rafe Wilson, Executive Officer of Navy Special Warfare Group Five was a lowlife, cocksucking traitor to his country. His sanity left him and was replaced by the obsession to prove what he knew to be the truth. Nothing short of Rafe Wilson lying on a silver platter with a stake in his heart would be good enough for JJ at this point.
On the third day of his mandatory leave, JJ got a list of the incoming and outgoing passengers both commercial and private to San Diego for the day in question. Lexie’s alias had been found and identified on an incoming flight. His contact couldn’t find Rafe. He got the list and began working his way through the list by his own methods. After almost twenty-four hours of nonstop work he found something by accident. It was a private flight on a Pakistani energy company’s corporate jet. It had arrived at four in the afternoon from Houston and had departed at seven that evening. There was only one passenger on the plane, Azad Jobrani. Lexie had thrown that name out when she’d been flirting with JJ.
When JJ got access to his CIA contact the next day, they ran Azad Jobrani through the database. He was a British national living in Iran and Mr. Jobrani was apparently on a watch list in Great Britain. He made another call.
“Jake! JJ here.”
“When are you coming? I’m holding your slot,” Jake Maccabee said.
“Soon, I’ve put Dixie on notice.”
“What the fuck are you waiting for? I know it ain’t the money you’re making in the Navy. Tell Dixie to fuck off!”
“As a matter of fact, I’m coming to Texas in a couple of days. Is Mick Smyth around?”
“Not right now. He’s coming in on Thursday. He’s been in Iraq putting out some fires. Why? I’ve got a SAT phone you can reach him on if it’s urgent.”
“Not for him. I’m going to kick his ass. I’m sure he’ll tell you it can wait until Thursday.”
“What did he do, out of curiosity?” Jake asked with a chuckle.
“He’s a fucking limey bastard who welshes on his bets. He owes me a Benjamin for a bet we had and he lost.”
“Shit! I’d pay two hundred to watch you kick his ass. What was the bet?”
“He bet me I couldn’t drink more Glenfiddich than he could. He lost and I have witnesses. So I’m taking my hundred bucks out of his ass. I don’t want pounds. I want American greenbacks,” JJ said gruffly. He heard Jake laughing his ass off and suddenly heard a thud on the other end of the phone. “Jake?” he asked, slightly concerned.
“Holy fuck! I was laughing so damn hard I fell out of my chair!” Jake roared with laughter at the other end.
JJ smiled. “Thursday huh? Tell that alfie motherfucker I’ll be waiting.”
JJ booked a flight to Austin, Texas, for Thursday morning. He left the return flight open, keeping his options wide-open. He’d called Markie that afternoon and asked her to prepare his retirement package. He knew it would take at least thirty days to process out, even longer if Dixie decided to fuck with him. He also had all that leave he never took and needed to use. His eyes narrowed. He had options, lots of options. It’s on motherfucker, and I’m coming for you.
Chapter Nine
Randolph Air Force Base
Navy Special Warfare Group Five
The Tarmac Outside Building 1534
September 24, 2008/1216 Zulu
Rock listened to Dixie’s concerns. He was on a basic cell phone that had no Bluetooth or pairing capabilities. He and Dixie were discussing JJ, who’d apparently called Dixie’s bluff about a disagreement they had. Rock shook his head…Dixie should know JJ better than that.
“I hear you, Dixie. I’ll see if I can catch up to him and talk to him,” Rock said.
“He’s gone off the fucking reservation, Rock. Something is really wrong, and it’s more than what he’s telling me. Keep the package in Southern Watch safe,” Dixie said, concerned.
Rock knew exactly what Dixie meant. JJ had apparently latched on to a target and was making a beeline for it. Rock would need to get the lowdown from JJ as to what happened last week after Rock had left.
“I understand, boss.” Rock ended the call.
* * * *
JJ found himself in Austin on a sultry fall afternoon. He stepped off into the Jetway. The Texas heat and humidity seemed to sear through the thin vinyl of the Jetway and into the corridor. He made his way through the terminal and picked up his rental car. He dug out his GPS and put in the northeast Austin address of BRAVO-ZULU Security. He maneuvered through Austin traffic and was at his destination within thirty minutes. He swung open the doors and was greeted by a lovely young lady working the front reception area.
“Mr. Jones? Please follow me,” she directed.
JJ was led into a plush office. Three televisions had Fox News, the BBC News, and Al Jazeera all broadcasting at the same time. The televisions were muted. He looked toward the desk and saw one of his favorite tadpoles, Lieutenant Jake Maccabee. Jake had been one of his trainees and was in the same BUD/S class that Rafe had gone through.
When Rafe and Jake found themselves on the same SEAL team, Rafe had been responsible for ruining Jake’s Navy career seven years into the SEALs. JJ had been convinced it was Rafe’s fuck up and not Jake’s, but Rafe had been the higher-ranking officer. Jake was sitting in his chair, leaning back, watching him with a huge grin on his face. It meant Mick Smyth was near and waiting to pounce.
“Come on out, Mick,” JJ said, looking at Jake.
JJ heard a light chuckle and a body seemed to appear from dead space. Mick was smiling broadly.
“It was a tie,” Mick said, extending his hand.
“The hell it was. I could still walk. Sasha and Jobey had to carry you out,” JJ said, shaking the man’s hand heartily.
Jake’s desk phone buzzed.
“Let’s get out of here,” Mick said, looking at Jake who was engaged in a call.
“I need some alone time with you,” JJ said, dropping his voice.
“Do you want to snog or shag?” Mick asked.
JJ smiled. “I ain’t swapping spit with you. I don’t know where that tongue has been.”
Mick laughed and slapped JJ on the back. They climbed into JJ’s rental car and Mick directed him to a nearby diner. He’d known Mick Smyth from his SAS, or British Secret Air Service days. They’d served together in Africa when Mick was a newbie. Mick had turned into one hell of a Black Ops specialist before he left the SAS to open BRAVO-ZULU Security with Jake.
As they exited the vehicle, he looked at Mick knowingly and threw his iPhone in the console of the vehicle. Mick cocked his head and without speaking threw his cell phone in with JJ’s. They found a table and sat down.
“What can I do for you, mate?” Mick asked.
“How are your ties in MI-6?” JJ asked.
“Pretty fair, I’ve an ex-wife at MI-6,” Mick said as the waitress served their coffee.
“Does s
he still talk to you?” JJ asked with a grin.
“Maybe. If I stroke the kitty the right way.” Mick smiled.
“I need some information.”
“Is this professional or personal?”
“Both.”
“What do you have?”
JJ scrawled a name on a napkin and handed it to Mick. “I know he’s a British national living in Iran. He’s also on a British watch list.”
“Makes sense, it’s Persian,” Mick said, holding up the napkin. “What else?” He tucked the napkin in his jeans.
“He was supposedly in San Diego on September thirteenth. He flew in on a private jet and left three hours later.”
“Diplomat?”
“No. Pakistani energy company,” JJ said. Mick scowled questioningly. “I know, why bother? I need to know what MI-6 has on this guy.”
“Sounds like a job for the janitor. I know some chaps in low places who might be able to help and keep it mum,” Mick said.
They got back to the vehicle and retrieved their cell phones. JJ noticed he had missed a call from Rock. He dropped off Mick and bantered with Jake and some of the other men he knew in the company. He, Jake, and Mick had a nice early dinner and discussed JJ’s role with the company once he came on board.
JJ decided to return Rock’s call early that evening. He’d waited because he was sure Dixie had put Rock up to calling him and leaving a cryptic message on his voicemail. He drove the hour and a half down to Randolph Air Force Base in San Antonio. He walked into the converted hangar and stepped up to the young yeoman at the desk.
“Master Chief,” the young man nodded.
The voice sounded familiar, but the body and face had changed. “Friday?” JJ asked in disbelief. “Damn, Friday! It’s good to see you.”
The young man smiled. “It’s good to see you, too, Master Chief. The captain was about to send out a reconnaissance team for you.”
“Ah, let them stew for a while. I thought they sent you back home on a medical. You were pretty shot up. How are you doing?” JJ asked.
“I’m almost back to normal. It’s been eighteen months.”
“Have you been training?”
“I finally got cleared to start running. Captain promised me I could get back on teams as soon as I can pass the quals again.”
“As long as he’s here, Friday…” JJ said, jerking his thumb in the direction of Rock’s office, “he’ll make sure it happens. He’s one of the better ones.”
“I know it, Master Chief, and I’m damn lucky he picked me up the way he did,” Friday said.
“Is he in?”
‘He’s been waiting for you to show all afternoon,” Friday said with a mischievous grin.
JJ walked into Rock’s office and found Rock sitting behind his desk looking at his computer screen.
“Did you go MIA for a reason?” Rock asked.
“I’m thirsty, Rock. Know a place with a twenty-year-old bottle of Glenfiddich?” JJ asked.
Rock gave JJ an understanding look. They went to a new hiding place Rock had discovered and had a drink. JJ listened as Rock gave him Dixie’s message.
“JJ, he’s just worried,” Rock concluded.
“Rock, it’s time for me to move on,” JJ said. Rock didn’t say anything. “I know what I saw doesn’t make any sense, and I don’t want to put you in the middle. So maybe it’s better this way.”
“I believe you, JJ. And you’re right, Rafe is dirty. Doc got back to me on the Sunday after I got back from Coronado. I’ve been sending my problem on every TAD I can get him on. He finally took leave for a week.”
“Do you think he suspects anything?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I’m letting myself look like I’m distracted with my new wife. I’ve been using the excuse that I’ve just gotten married and I want to stay home for a while. He seems okay with that. Dixie is right about one thing. We need better proof. Doc got his identity by accident. I still can’t prove anything because he hasn’t shown himself yet. You need to hang in there, JJ. It’s just a matter of time now,” Rock said.
JJ looked into his glass. Something still wasn’t right with this picture. It was almost too easy and too coincidental. When Rafe threw Jake Maccabee under the bus, JJ knew Rafe was a snake bastard and would turn on his team if it suited him. He begged Dixie to take Rafe off of teams after that little stunt because he was bad for unit integrity. When unit integrity failed a lot of people ended up in body bags. Rafe’s family connections and Naval Academy graduate status ended Navy careers when people got on the wrong side of him. JJ had to get out of the Navy to hang Rafe. Otherwise Rafe would find a way to taint him.
“Rock, the only way I can bring him down is to get out. If I do this while I’m still wearing a uniform, that slick motherfucker will find a way to hang me and come out smelling like a rose. He’ll also come after you and Dixie. He hates you, Rock,” JJ said.
“Have you told Dixie what you’re telling me?” Rock asked, ignoring JJ’s last comment.
“No, the less he knows the better in this situation. He’s too wrapped up in the politics of his position. I understand, and he needs to stay where he’s at. He’s the first commander at headquarters level who hasn’t forgotten what guys in the field go through. He’s also not afraid to fight and piss people off if he needs to,” JJ said.
“What’s the plan, Master Chief? Once you leave you lose a lot of clout,” Rock pointed out.
“Talk to Dixie, tell him to let me go. I still have a lot of leave and it’ll take at least thirty days to process me out. By my estimations, I’ve got almost five months before I’m completely gone. We’ll have him by then.”
“Let me ask you this. If you retire, would you consider being reactivated into the reserves, like Badass, if we need more time?”
“We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it, Rock. But I’ll tell you this. I won’t close the door on any option right now, especially if it means hanging Rafe Wilson.”
* * * *
Irene doodled on her notepad as the president of the Library Foundation droned on and on. This meeting was out of control and a one-hour board meeting had turned into a two-hour gossip session. Irene had been lying low since coming back from San Diego. This meeting had been the first time she had left the house since returning home. She was taking what James had done harder than she seemed to take David dying. It seemed as if she spent more time crying over James than she did David.
“Irene!” Ida May Sanderson demanded.
“I’m sorry. What was that?” Irene asked.
“Will you head up the committee for our fund-raiser in June? Your Casino Night was a big success last year,” Frank said.
“I’m sorry. I just don’t think I can do it this year. Amy is getting married and I’m pretty tied up with the wedding. I’ll be glad to help whoever decides to head it up,” Irene said.
“I’d be happy to do it, Frank,” Ida May offered.
Irene groaned internally. If Ida May was the committee chair, it meant Irene would be doing all of the work and getting none of the credit. It wasn’t so bad about not getting credit, but Ida May would make sure Irene got all the blame if something went wrong. It also meant she’d be doing double the work, because Ida May would put off things until the last minute.
“Okay, Ida May, Irene, can you two work together on this?” Frank asked.
“As long as everyone understands I’m maintaining a limited role. Amy is my primary concern right now,” Irene said.
“Of course, Irene, it’ll be fun!” Ida May gushed.
For who? Irene smiled weakly and went back to her notepad. The meeting thankfully ended soon after. Irene left the building and walked into the warm day. She compared the weather to San Diego and instantly cursed herself for the thought. She started to open the car door. A prickly sensation ran down her neck and there was a slight flip in her belly.
“James?” Irene involuntarily called in a whispered as she looked around. He was here. Sh
e sensed it. He was close. She scanned the parking lot looking for a sign of his presence.
Irene got into her car and shook her head. He’s here, her inner voice told her. Why would he be here? He got what he wanted, and he hasn’t bothered to call since. Her sensible self argued with her heart. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched, and only James had ever managed to draw a physical reaction from her with just his presence. Her body always knew when he was near.
Irene drove toward home and changed her mind. She went to the mall instead. She got out of the car and went inside the large complex and walked around for a couple of hours. The feeling that she was being watched never left her. She shopped a little and stopped at the food court for a bite before getting into her car and going home. When she closed the door behind her the loneliness and emptiness returned. James was gone.
* * * *
JJ waited at the bar for Gavin. He needed to find some sort of excuse for being in Victoria. He spent all afternoon following Irene around after she got out of her meeting. He decided against having a drink. It would only piss him off and that meant some sort of fight, so he’d wind up beating the shit out of some innocent bastard or banging on Irene’s door demanding that she see him.
JJ was kicking himself for following her all afternoon after telling himself to respect her wishes and not contact her. I didn’t contact her, technically. I just fucking stalked her all afternoon. He looked into his glass of iced tea. He couldn’t stay away from her no matter how bad he wanted to. Texas wasn’t big enough to keep Irene from him. Texas hell, the fucking planet isn’t big enough. Moving here would make him crazy if they didn’t resolve this somehow and get back together.
