by J. M. Madden
“Where is baby Raven?” Shannon asked.
“Flynn kept her home. When I get back, he’ll come down to see you.”
Baby Raven was a true gray-eyed, dark haired darling, such a startlingly beautiful baby. She’d been born four months ago on a chilly March morning, and she’d beguiled everyone she’d met in that time, including Flynn, her proud father. The change in the man had been astounding, still very serious and professional, he spent a lot of time wreathed in smiles these days.
Shannon could already tell that one of her boys, Caden, had very dark eyes, visible even as tiny as the boys were. Wyatt had very light eyes. But she knew there was a chance they could change from the fuzzy blue that they were now. She didn’t care. They were both beautiful to her, red-faced and all.
There was a knock at the door and Alex and Duncan walked in, and what a beautiful couple they made. It was still a little shocking to see Duncan leaning on his cane, but he moved so well these days he hadn’t needed it for months. Alex held a package in blue as they walked over to peer down at the babies. Duncan crossed to John, now holding baby Wyatt, and John peeled back the blanket for inspection. The men talked softly and Duncan reached out to stroke a finger down Wyatt’s cheek.
“This was brought to the office yesterday,” Duncan told them, holding up the present.
John looked at the tag on the bag. ‘Congrats big brother’. Then, pulling the tissue paper from the bag, he drew out two blue onesies. Duncan held them up and emblazoned across the midsection were the words ‘Big Brother Palmer’ and ‘Little Brother Palmer’.
They all laughed, because it was well-known that John had expected to be overwhelmed by two girls. When Aiden had been here though, he’d very clearly stated that John would be having two boys. He’d been so confident in his knowledge that he’d had personalized outfits done up for the boys.
“I guess he was right, huh?” John murmured. “That’s a little spooky.”
Aiden, or Jaime, had told them that LeBoutin was gone and that he would draw whoever was after him away. The fact that the present had just been delivered was proof he was still okay, and still watching out for them.
Alex’s auburn hair poured over her shoulder as she leaned down to look at Caden. Months ago during one emotional lunch, she had told Shannon about the miscarriage and as she looked down at the baby now, she wiped away a few tears. Sometime in the future, Shannon knew they would try again. A couple of months ago she and Duncan had slipped away to get married, in their own time and their own way, then had a party at the Frog Dog to celebrate.
John and Shannon had talked about eloping as well, but she knew it would break her parents’ hearts. So, on a quiet summer afternoon a few weeks ago, they’d tied the knot in the back yard. The women in the group had taken care of everything, only requiring that Shannon find an easy dress to get married in.
Looking back now, she knew everything had happened as it was supposed to. Getting ready for the babies had been their focus then, as they would be their focus for the rest of their lives.
Alex ran her hand over Caden’s thick dark hair, ruffling it lightly. “You have beautiful children, Shannon. Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” she said softly. “And when you have children they will be just as beautiful.”
They cried together and celebrated the joy that had come into their lives.
* * *
Duncan tugged on Alex’s hand and they left the room. She hated to leave, but knew they needed to. The Palmer family had just doubled in size and they needed rest and time to strengthen that bond between them.
“That was amazing,” Duncan told her softly, resting his arm over her shoulders.
She leaned into him, wrapping her own arm around his waist. “What beautiful boys. I’m so glad they’re all okay. Shannon had a surprisingly easy pregnancy for twins. And delivery.”
Duncan chuckled as they stopped for the elevator. “That’s okay. Give them a while. Those boys are going to give them both hell, I just have a feeling.”
Alex laughed with him. “Oh, yes. Double the trouble.”
“Did you tell Shannon you’re pregnant?” he asked softly.
Alex shook her head. “No, it’s their day for joy. We can tell them later.”
They stepped onto the elevator and he leaned her against the wall. His dark gaze speared into her. “I can imagine you with that tired, beautiful look on your face as you look down at our baby, and I’m going to be counting down the days until I see it for myself.”
Her wild emotions surged and tears filled her eyes. “I love you, Duncan.”
“And I love you, Alexandra Wilde.” He rested a hand on her slight baby bump. “Let’s go plan a nursery for our rainbow baby.”
She nodded happily and pressed a kiss to his mouth as the elevator doors closed.
The End….
Following is an excerpt from Aiden’s book Chaos in the thrilling Dogs of War series coming in 2017!
If he could have opened his eyes he would have, but there was something obscuring his vision. He tried to lift his right hand but it was so heavy. Probably because he was laying on his side, curled as tightly as he could to try to conserve body heat. Even in the jungle it was possible to be cold, especially if your torturers had thrown you into your cage naked after being soaked in a cesspool for hours. If he’d had more energy Jim would have tried to do something to conserve his body heat but it was all he could do to stay conscious.
It was up to him to stay healthy, he was told. He had the ability to heal himself of the infection eating its way through him.
He heard noises outside but couldn’t see what it was. He didn’t know that he would even look if he could. Their ‘training regimen’ didn’t change much. At least it hadn’t over the past several weeks. It seemed like the further the program progressed the harder they tried to kill the remaining trainees.
It was Wulfe’s turn up next. The assholes were symmetrical that way at least. As the trainees had fallen the circle had tightened. It used to be Calhoun, Fox and Fournier between he and Wulfe. The Frenchman, Fournier, had been a Commando Marine, the French version of a Navy SEAL. Supposedly they had one of the most difficult training regiments in the NATO Special Forces. It was ironic he had died first because he was supposed to have been the example to follow.
He’d died from an overdose.
If Jim could have laughed he would have. The fucking idiots had killed their golden unicorn.
Calhoun, the Canadian, hadn’t lasted much longer than Fournier. They’d died within days of each other. Jim wasn’t even sure when Fox had died; he’d just been out of the rotation one day. A few days later a body bag had been evacced out of the bush. That was one of the conditions of the countries participating in the study. If their delegates were compromised, they were given the body after the post-mortem so that they could take their own samples. Jim wondered how much was actually left over by the time the company was done chopping the men up. It was sickening what they did to them. All of the men in the camp had earned their place here by serving their individual countries to the best of their ability. They were the elite of the elite. And they were being killed off like dogs.
Wulfe would be gone for a day or so, then taken back to his cage to recover. There would be another seven guys cycle through before it would be Jim’s turn again. So, about a week and a half to recover from yesterday’s training.
God, did he even have it in him to keep going.
He’d been here almost four months now. Damn. It had been spring when he’d left California, traveling to Washington for a meeting with a dozen other special forces groups. There had been Navy SEALs like himself, Airborne, Green Berets and an assortment of other badasses. It was truly an impressive display of talent. Too bad half of them were dead now.
It was disgusting the way their lives had been wasted. All for an experiment.
The week dragged on. For a couple of days he was completely out of it. He remembered blinking his e
yes open to see Wulfe being dragged back to his cage, limp between two guards, his feet dragging in the dirt. Normally the sight of the big man so compromised would have depressed the fuck out of him, but he just didn’t have the energy for it.
The third day after the ‘treatment’, he could tell his body was beginning to rally. When he sat up in the corner of his cage the world spun, then steadied.
The camp was quiet this early in the morning. Guards walked their loops and chatted, sharing cigarettes behind the officers’ shacks. The heat was almost manageable, now, but he knew within just a couple of hours it would be sweltering again.
Looking at the front of the cage he saw the oat cake that had been left for his dinner. The insects had eaten a chunk out of it but he brushed them off and took a bite, chewing slowly. Bland as always, but he needed the nutrients in the damn thing. Supposedly it was juiced with vitamins, like a granola bar on steroids. It just didn’t taste as good. He reached out and rattled the canteen. There might be a swig or two of water. Maybe he should save it for the heat of the day. It was his fault for not having it at the door within easy reach so that they could refill it. If the guards had to do any more work than the minimum it didn’t get done.
Screw it. He took a couple more small bites of the oat cake then a big swallow of water to wash it down. There was another sip in the bottom for later if he needed it.
At eight o’clock, the two guards he called Smoke, for his relentless addiction to tobacco, and Buck for his lack of dental care, ‘escorted’ Hemmer to the training facility. Jim noticed that Hemmer actually seemed almost eager to go. As if he felt Jim’s eyes on him Hemmer looked up and gave him a wink, then disappeared into the concrete building where they conducted the experiments.
For some reason that wink put him on edge. Was Hemmer, one of the Danish imports, going to do something crazy and suicidal? Or was he just trying to make the best of a terrible situation?
Jim rested for a little while—he wasn’t sure how long—then rallied his energy to get up. Rolling to his knees he used the bars to his left to brace himself as he tried to stand. Thighs quivering more than they had in a long time he forced himself to straighten.
The cages they were kept in were seven foot by ten foot squares. The walls were made of bars and the floor was a smooth sheet of iron painted with some type of texturizing material. The ‘bathroom’ was a pipe in the floor. Period. And the bed was a one inch cushion that compressed to nothing when laid upon.
When he’d signed up for the study he had been assured that the facility would be state of the art. And it was to a certain extent. The research buildings were equipped with every technological and medical device they could possibly need. The doctors working on the project seemed to be top-notch. The governments participating in the trial had all contributed a huge amount of seed money so they had plenty of play dough.
The accommodations for the participants on the other hand left much to be desired. They were prisoners. Period. At first they had been housed in the barracks along with the guards, but as the testing became more harsh and detrimental to their health, the men had begun to question the study. When the first participant had died, then another and another within a couple of days, the rest had refused to continue. They’d staged a bit of a rebellion, though they were too ingrained with the military structure to do too much. That night, the guards had been quietly moved out and the rest of the men in the barracks had been drugged. Jim assumed they’d used the ventilation system to deliver some type of airborn sedative. The next morning they’d all woken up in cages.
That had been a wake up call to them all. They had been participants. Now they were considered ‘antagonistic subjects’, according to one of the assistants. Jim had been royally pissed, but kind of not surprised. With the amount of clandestine activity he’d seen in the camp escalating—fences going up and more guards being moved in—he’d had a feeling their lives were about to be forfeit.
The government considered them equipment anyway. No better than shovels, used to get a job done.
Leaning into the far corner of the cage he craned his neck to try to see Wulfe. The big German was curled on his side, bones poking out of his naked hips. They’d all lost weight but Wulfe seemed more lean, or maybe he just looked that way because of his size. Focusing his thoughts he gave a mental shout. Wulfe!
Wulfe didn’t jerk but his dark head lolled till he blinked up at the ceiling. Yes.
Jim tried not to grin or do anything the cameras mounted in the corners of the cage would catch. Hey buddy. I was worried about you.
I also worried. But I think I will be better soon. This sickness was not so bad.
Though they hadn’t spoken much when they’d been in the barracks, Jim could still hear Wulfe’s accent strongly in his mind. Yes, I agree. Are we getting stronger or was this an easier test?
He could just barely see Wulfe blink at the question. Not sure. Maybe Both.
When he’d first heard about the trial, he’d laughed to himself. The thought that a jungle plant could make them supermen was pretty outrageous. But, if the government was willing to spend money on it they must have something to back up their claims. The only thing they had been shown was a single video of an indigenous shaman running through the treetops. At first nothing had seemed off, then the camera zoomed back and they had the scope of the distances he was leaping, and the size of the trees he was climbing. The brown skinned man had seemed like a real life Tarzan on steroids.
But that two minute clip had apparently just been the tip of the iceberg. Dr. Näetern had told them of other instances when Ayahausca users had shown amazing strength and dexterity, as well as mental growth that was off the charts. The fervid light that shone in his eyes was enough to make Jim wonder if it was all true.
It had been after a particularly brutal ‘test’ that Wulfe had gone through when they’d first made the mental connection. The men had known that everything they said to each other, every look, was monitored, so Jim had bitten his tongue and watched as they’d carried the limp form of his friend past.
Jim had been cursing the government and the doctors in his head, screaming inside his skin, when another voice had penetrated.
Quiet, please, American.
Jim had reeled back from the bars, wondering what the hell he’d just heard. What?
You heard me. You blame government and doctors, but you volunteered, yes? Now we deal with consequences.
Wulfe?
Yes! Now be quiet while I try to fix.
Jim had quieted his mind, though his thoughts had raced. That incident had happened several weeks ago and they had been talking ever since. As their energy would allow anyway. Talking mind to mind was very draining.
They did not let the doctors know about the stunning development, though. The testing would have undoubtedly intensified. He and Wulfe, the only two able to communicate this way so far, would probably have forfeited their lives.
Fontina had been the next they’d heard. One day when they’d been ‘escorting’ the Dutchman back to his cage Jim had tried to contact him. The man had looked up in surprise, then glanced at the guards on either side of him. When his gaze had connected with Jim, he’d given him a small nod.
Proximity definitely seemed to play a part in the communication. Wulfe’s cage was only about twenty yards away. Fontina had only been about five yards away as he’d walked back toward his cage. As he was able, Jim began sending thoughts to the returning men. Some he connected with—others he did not.
Most, he did not.
But he could see the hope in the men’s expressions when they neared his cage. Jim cautioned them to play it safe and to keep this part of their…evolution secret. They were all smart men and agreed. But every day that passed they asked what they were going to do to get out of the situation they were in.
The problem was, were they willing to go AWOL? Technically, they were all still part of their respective military units, but the fact that they were being he
ld against their will and that the parameters of the exercise had changed didn’t really change anything. If they walked away under their own power, the group would be after them. Jim had no doubt that if they feared exposure they would eliminate the threats.
The men.
If word got out that a shadowy government organization was murdering innocent soldiers, there would be an uproar. But along that line, their lives would still be forfeit. They would continue to live their lives in a fishbowl, unable to live the lives they’d dreamed of.
So, they bided their time.
Then one day, something changed.
If you would like to read more Chaos, the first book in a thrilling new series, it is due to release 2017!
If you would like to read about the ‘combat modified’ veterans of the Lost and Found Investigative Service, check out these books:
Other books by J.M. Madden
The Billionaire’s Secret Obsession
A Touch of Fae
Second Time Around
Wet Dream
Love on the Line
The Awakening Society – FREE
Tempt Me
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About the Author
NY Times and USA Today Bestselling author J.M. Madden writes compelling romances between ‘combat modified’ military men and the women who love them. J.M. Madden loves any and all good love stories, most particularly her own. She has two beautiful children and a husband who always keeps her on her toes.
J.M. was a Deputy Sheriff in Ohio for nine years, until hubby moved the clan to Kentucky. When not chasing the family around, she’s at the computer, reading and writing, perfecting her craft. She occasionally takes breaks to feed her animal horde and is trying to control her office-supply addiction, but both tasks are uphill battles. Happily, she is writing full-time and always has several projects in the works. She also dearly loves to hear from readers! So, drop her a line. She’ll respond.
