Code Name: Forever & Ever (A Warrior's Challenge series Book 5)

by Natasza Waters

  “Not your job.”

  Thane smashed the fence with his fist, leaving an indent in the woven strands of metal. “It sure the fuck is. You’re my friend. My best goddamn friend.”

  “My best friend screwed my…my…”

  “Your what? You dumped her, remember? Hell, you barely started anything with her.” Thane got up in his face. “You’re a fucking idiot. Hate me if you want, but that’s the truth.” He pressed a finger to his chest. “Maybe I am, too. Maybe I should go home and finish what I started.”

  Patrick should have known better. He’d learned how to control his emotions, and if he’d given it another second of thought before acting, he would have realized Thane would never say, “Take a swing at me.” Instead, he’d pushed Pat’s buttons knowing the result. The strike came with lightning speed, and his fist connected with Thane’s jaw.

  Thane staggered with the blow. When his gaze locked onto Pat’s, realization struck a harder blow. “Feel better?”

  “You fucking cocksucker. No, I don’t feel better.”

  He turned and walked away from Thane, but wasn’t surprised when his swim buddy fell in stride. “Then hit me again.”

  “That won’t change anything.”

  “No, it won’t,” Thane said as they rounded the munitions shack.

  Pat stopped and glared at him. “Do you want her, or what?”

  “Doesn’t matter what I want. I know what she wants.”

  “You’re gonna try and convince me that she wants me.” He continued to walk, heading for the common area of the FOB Forward Operating Base. “She came back to St. George’s to find you.”

  “Bullshit. If that were true, I would have seen something in her eyes when Darcy was attached to my hip. She didn’t care. Until—” Thane stopped him with a strong grip on his shoulder. “Until she turned around and looked at you. Those long legs of hers almost melted staring at you. How you’ve resisted putting those pipes around your hips, I don’t know.”

  They reached the picnic tables situated under the thick green camouflage netting. Pat opened the cooler and retrieved two bottles of water, throwing one at Thane, hoping he’d hit him in the face, but Thane swiped it out of midair before striking its target.

  “Thanks.” Unscrewing the top, Thane guzzled three-quarters of the bottle in one swallow then poured the rest over his head.

  Patrick plunked down on the bench and stared at his friend, his best friend. Was he going to let his insecurities come between them?

  Thane straddled the bench and handed him another bottle. “You’ve got the patience of a monk. I don’t know what you’re waiting for. She was bound and determined to spend the last night going nuts on you before heading out, but you dumped her instead.” He shook his head. “You need your head read, man.”

  Patrick surveyed the enclosure and the thick jungle wanting to consume the fence with long tendrils of undergrowth and foliage. They’d be heading out on patrol in three hours when night gave them extra cover. “Maybe I do.”

  “Hey, new guys! Incoming,” a veteran SEAL everyone called Donut said, dropping several copies of a magazine on the table. Three other SEALs from Alpha Squad took a seat and swiped a copy off the table. “My brother thought he’d send a little literature from the home front.”

  Harper sat down amongst the veteran SEALs. He’d shoved his nose up their asses, hoping he could earn a few more points when it came to his peer review. “Holy shit,” Harper exclaimed and picked up one of the mags. “It’s my fucking girlfriend.”

  Pat and Thane gave each other a look and Thane slid one of the mags toward him from across the table. Patrick’s entire body went cold and then ramped up to boil.

  “She’s not your girlfriend, you fucking idiot,” Thane barked.

  Pat couldn’t take his eyes off the cover. Holy shit, it was Marg on the cover of American Sweetheart. Posed on the beach with the sun setting behind her, body covered in a slight sheen of sweat and oil, rivaling any mermaid he’d ever seen in a string bikini. A taut waist and flared hips, toned thighs tapering into long legs confirmed what Thane had said. You fucking idiot.

  “Harper, if that’s your girlfriend, I don’t know why the fuck you joined the SEALs,” Target, a big SEAL with a shock of red stubble on his head, announced to the table.

  “She’s not,” Thane answered. “She’s Cobbs’ girlfriend.”

  The guys started jeering. “Looks like a duel at dawn comin’.” Target joked.

  Harper had his crooked nose stuffed in the mag. “Her grandfather was a SEAL. Vietnam.”

  “Wouldn’t you know that if she was your girlfriend, fuckhead?” Thane said, turning to the inside of the mag himself. His eyes traced the words as he read aloud, “Margaret Stines. The oldest of three daughters of the well-known Hollywood mogul Alex Stines-Foster, Marg is carving out her own success. She believes in America and those who protect it.”

  Thane continued to read the interview for everyone to hear.

  American Sweetheart: “Do you have any family in the forces?”

  Marg: “My grandfather. He died in Southeast Asia during the Vietnam War.”

  American Sweetheart: “Anyone else?”

  Marg: She pauses and looks out toward the waves rolling onto the beach as if searching for someone. “A few,” she answers in a whisper.

  American Sweetheart: “Maybe someone special?”

  Marg: “Yes,” She begins, but pauses. “He’s special.” After a moment, she nods for the next question.

  American Sweetheart: “What would he think, seeing you on the cover of American Sweetheart? Would he be jealous?”

  Marg: She barely shakes her head. “I don’t think so. His mind is focused on protecting our country.”

  American Sweetheart: “So he’s a hero.”

  Marg: “He is, but he doesn’t see himself that way.” Marg’s pretty blue eyes tear up. “He’s a hero to me.”

  American Sweetheart: “Well, he’s a lucky guy. You’re going to break a few hearts, Marg. I hope your fella sees this feature edition of the magazine and is as proud of you as you are of him.”

  The entire squad turned their gazes on him. He swept the mag from Thane’s hands and reread the article.

  “She’s a beauty, Zodiak. Looks like she’s got a head on her shoulders, too,” Target said.

  The rest of the men surrounding the table had gone quiet. SEALs had a strong sixth sense.

  Before anyone could ask questions, Lt. Redding wandered to the table. He slid a copy of the mag around and peered down at the cover. “Looks like our new guy has a good reason to stay alive.”

  Patrick shook his head. “I broke up with her before we left for this mission.”

  Harper’s lips lifted into a sarcastic grin. “Good to know you’re out of the picture.”

  Pat’s patience was a lot longer than Thane’s, but that little bastard, Harper, needed a reminder of who Marg loved. “You’re about five inches shorter than her, Harper. Don’t think she’s interested in midgets.”

  “Probably a dick to match,” Thane added.

  The team guys busted out laughing while a scowl replaced Harper’s grin.

  Harper wasn’t a stupid guy. He wouldn’t have made it this far if he was. Thane could push anyone’s buttons, and making the guy look like a fool in front of the other team members concerned Patrick. Harper had a hunger. He needed to be a SEAL. Where most guys wanted it for different reasons, Harper’s seemed desperate. Backing a desperate guy into the corner wasn’t smart. Pat, Harper, and Thane had six months of probation before they received the Budweiser. The US Navy wanted to ensure after basic and SQT’s, they had the character to be a SEAL.

  Harper’s scowl morphed into a sneer. “Looks like this guy might want in on your action,” referring to the few shots with the male model posing with her in the spread. “Kinda reminds me of you, Cobbs. Think you might be replaced.”

  “Marg’s a professional,” Thane said.

  “Professional what?” Har
per fired back.

  Patrick’s gaze shot across the table. If he’d been carrying, he’d have thrust the barrel into Harper’s temple. With a slow growl, he said, “Meaning what?”

  Harper couldn’t back down now, the entire table watched them. “Meaning, girls like her don’t just model in magazines, and they don’t get on the cover unless they’re making extra money in movies,” he paused. “The X-rated kind.”

  Cobbs shot to his feet.

  “Stand down, Cobbs,” Red commanded. “Harper, never dis a team guy’s girl. He’ll kill more than tangos for a woman’s honor.”

  The team surveyed the three of them. Lt. Redding quieted the group down with one hand. All eyes on him. “You’ve got two hours. We head out at nineteen thirty hours.”

  “Roger that, Lieutenant,” Target, their Master CPO, answered for the team. “Time to load out.”

  The guys evacuated the table. Lt. Redding stopped Harper from following the men. “Sit the fuck down,” he ordered.

  Harper sat like a trained dog. Pat and Thane hadn’t moved.

  Lt. Redding surveyed each of them before he placed his knuckles on the table. “There’s bad blood here, and I can tell you right now, one of the three of you will be gone from this squad before your final reviews.”

  Harper’s expression showed fear, but he collected himself before he thought the lieutenant caught his reaction.

  “I don’t give a flying fuck what or who your girlfriends are, but out here, you have to be focused for the team. Unless, you want to return stateside in a bag. You three came in here with something brewing, but I won’t put the other men at risk because of it. You figure out your shit.” He gave them a curt nod and headed toward the barrack that housed their gear and sleeping pallets.

  Harper hurried to catch up and no doubt try to smooth his road by staying so far up Redding’s ass, he could probably grab the ankles of the last guy up there.

  “Harper is trouble. He barely skimmed through BUD/S,” Thane said, watching Harper retreat.

  Pat nodded. “He thinks Red might wash one of us, versus just shifting us to another squad. If he’s behind me, think I’ll watch my back.”

  Thane downed another bottle of water and picked up the magazine. “You okay with this?” He stared at the cover of the mag.

  “She’s a model.”

  Thane shook his head. “You read the interview. She’s talking about you. I don’t think she ended up in someone else’s bed just ‘cause you left. She’s waiting, friend. She’s waiting for you.”

  “Why?” The simple word sounded so pathetic, he wished he could take it back.

  “If she were a Frog Hog, I’d say to get laid, but she’s not. Which only means one thing.”

  Rolling up the mags and wishing he could burn the rest so the other guys wouldn’t look at her while jacking off, he said, “Yeah, and what’s that?”

  “Potential.”

  He remembered what Marg had said to him in the driveway. She’d accused him of turning his back on the truth. She was wrong. He knew his strengths and weaknesses. Marg was his biggest weakness.

  “She’s not going to want to be attached to me when she becomes popular,” he said, staring at the beautiful woman on the cover. “She’s going to hook up with some rich guy and end up back in L.A.”

  “The men are gonna be stacked on top of each other wanting to put a ring on her finger, but you weren’t listening. She even told me she doesn’t want that life.”

  “Before or after you fucked her?” he said, not quite past the bitterness.

  Thane snatched up the mag and shoved it in his face. “Yes, asshole, I fucked this.” He paused and glared at him, his polar eyes sharp. “You…are in love with her. Not the image, but her. If we were the last two men on the planet and she had to choose, I’m telling you right here and right now, she wouldn’t give me a second look. You know why?”

  Leveling a cool stare on his friend wouldn’t stop Thane from continuing.

  “Because she’s smarter than both of us, and she knows you’re the better man.” Thane tossed the magazine on the table and walked away.

  * * * *

  Geared up in jungle loadout, weighted with only a thirty pound pack, AR-15 and ammo, their faces greased with green and black camo paint, Alpha Squad circled Lt. Redding. They’d reviewed the area where they’d insert twenty clicks down the river. The riverine craft rumbled to life on the other side of a patch of jungle near the entrance to the enclosure.

  The first two patrols Pat and Thane had joined were recon only, no engagement. Tonight, with more intel, they were going face to face with the local militia to break a drug cartel run by the Serpiente family. The head of the cartel had connections with Syria, whether by blood or by business. Faron Serpiente kept money flowing into the account of an extremist group who were gathering strength. The funds had to be shut off in order to cut the head off the Syrians.

  Redding adjusted a belt on his jacket and spoke to the men. “Our orders are to take control of the facility and bring our HVT High Value Target back alive.”

  Although the pictures were grainy, they had memorized the face of Faron, reported to be located in the remote area.

  “We’re gonna give Austen a chance on point as we insert.”

  “Oh, fuck,” one of the other guys said.

  A green glow lit from Redding’s watch as he checked the time. “He thinks he’s ready. He’s had the training. We’re giving him the chance.”

  “Better a new guy buy it than one of us,” Donut said with a grin.

  The dark humor never ended around these dudes, Patrick thought to himself. And Donut was only half-kidding. You never left a brother behind, but if someone was going to eat a bullet for dinner, the percentages said a warrior fresh out of BUD/s had dibs on a gold cylinder with a hollow-point tip.

  Redding secured his 9mm into a hip holster. “The Serpiente Cartel are the lords in this jungle.” He turned his attention on Pat and Thane. “There’s no second chances out here, men. You’ve heard this all before, but now it’s going to get real. Blood, sweat, and your training will keep you breathing, but it’s the men on this team looking out for each other that will keep you whole.”

  “Hooyah,” the senior members of the team uttered together.

  Redding’s gaze slipped to Harper. “We work together. One team. One mission.”

  “Yes, sir,” Harper said with determination.

  A sharp gust of wind crossed Pat’s neck. Not warm like the night, but a cool hand of warning. When Harper’s attention turned to Thane, his gaze sharpened with hate.

  With a squad of eight men, the craft transited down the river in the darkness, all eyes on the shoreline. Serpiente’s men would have scouts watching as far as a kilometer out from their target. The craft would drop them outside the perimeter and they’d hump through the tangle of dense jungle to reach the compound.

  At a bend in the river, the craft slowed and ran close to the muddy bank. Wordless, the men disembarked. Thane took point, making tracks through the thick foliage. Large men had trouble moving through the jungle, but Thane ghosted through with silence. Darkness concealed the snakes wrapped around limbs above their heads. Leaves thrashed from animals as they escaped before having a close encounter with the team’s intrusion.

  Lt. Redding used hand signals to order them to cross a tributary instead of walking around it. Thane stepped with sure footedness into the mud and sank beneath the water to his shoulders. Guys like Harper, being shorter, would have to swim with silent strokes. Crossing at a long angle, using the water to mask their advance, gave them a better advantage.

  Clouds covered the half-moon. In a line, Thane, with Lt. Redding behind him, and Pat in the last position with the rest of the squad between, aimed for a jut of land. The tepid, slow moving water flowed against them. Thane rose from the river as the ground beneath his feet sloped toward the bank.

  “Eyes open, SEAL,” a voice hissed so close to his ear, the hair on the back of P
at’s neck bristled.

  He’d heard that voice before, but it didn’t belong to any of the team. He whirled around in the water just as a battle cry came from the jungle a split second before Lt. Redding’s alert. The shout from the foliage belonged to one big fucking sonofabitch with his sights on Thane.

  The tango, far bigger than Thane, cut a deadly swipe through the air. He vaulted sideways to avoid contact with the jagged edged blade as it arced high, intent on being buried in his neck. The militia didn’t fight with firearms, they chose blades and machetes.

  The team still had their cover if they could bring the militia down silently. All of Pat’s training kicked in at once as he drew his knife and reached the water’s edge. His engagement with one of the militia ended swiftly as he cut the throat of his target. His first kill, but he had no time to think about it. His adrenaline pumped hard. Harper had also dispatched his adversary and ran toward Thane. The big bastard still on course to take Thane out.

  A wink of light from the moon caught the blade just before Thane’s grunt as he engaged the enemy. Thane was pushed back, his feet tangling in the undergrowth, he fell backwards. He could have fired off a round and brought the big bastard down, but Lt. Redding had given the order not to use firearms and Thane didn’t break it, but he was in a bad position.

  Harper reached them. He had to see the adversary arc his arm in the air. Harper could fucking touch the son of a bitch, saw the downward plunge of the blade and then—Harper paused. From behind, Harper could have slit the guy’s jugular and it would have been over. Instead, he took a half step back. It was dark, but Patrick was sure of what he’d seen. All of it in slow motion recall. The force behind the adversary’s intent was to kill his friend; knife gripped in his palm. In a vulnerable position, Austen lay on his back.

  Out of the darkness, Lt. Redding reached them just as the guy’s arm powered downward. Pat heard Thane’s grunt of pain. Redding’s response was swift, but the guy was so big, Redding couldn’t stop him from falling onto Thane.

  Harper had backed up, and Patrick moved forward, gripping him in a jugular pinch. “You mother fucker,” he whispered next to his ear. “I saw what you did.”