Hulk hadn’t slept for shit. Every time he would doze off, visions of Venus’s bloody and battered corpse would float through his dreams, begging for help. It was the same thing night after night. If he wouldn’t have passed out, he would have helped Venus out, and he would be gearing up to take on their mission with the rest of them. Why? He had asked himself that every day since. It had gotten so bad he had begun to see Venus while he was awake. Every loud noise made him jump and reach for his weapon that wasn’t there. He was living in a hell he couldn’t escape, and had to keep silent or risk losing his career.
Hulk grabbed the last of his duffle bags and tossed them onto the truck. When he turned around, Violet was standing right beside him. “Shit! Don’t you know not to sneak up on people like that?” He had to uncock his fist that had immediately flew to the defensive posture.
“Sorry, I thought you heard me… I was talking but you were a million miles away. Are you okay?”
Hulk groaned. He had been two seconds away from breaking her face. What’s next? Killing bunnies? No. He wasn’t okay. He was a trained killer who carried a high-powered rifle and couldn’t get his shit together. They were leaving in less than an hour, and his conscience was eating at him. What if he put his team in danger? No. No. He was a soldier first, damn it! When his attention dragged back to Violet, he wanted to run. The look on her face said it all. Now, he needed some major damage control before she had him committed into a comfortable padded cell.
“Sorry. I was a few thousand miles away…thinking of all the different scenarios we might run into.”
“No problem. I should have left you alone…it’s just that…well, I was hoping you might come have a cup of coffee with me before you leave.” Violet fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, refusing to make eye contact.
It took Hulk a few moments longer to realize there was a hidden meaning in her friendly gesture. He could still see the concern twisting in her sweet angelic features, but knew he saw something else. Was she interested in him? Just before she turned and walked away, he found his tongue. “Sure, I’d love a cup. Thanks.” As they made their way back into the house, he pushed it a little farther. “Violet, listen. Um, would you mind a few emails or video chats while we are gone? I know everyone sends back group messages, but I was hoping maybe we could talk some. Alone.” And, there was the bomb. Either she would backtrack and give him a huge dose of awkwardness to leave with and pine over for the next who knows how long, or give him an outlet through the hell that faced them.
When Violet stopped mid-step and turned to him, he parted his lips to back track and almost fainted when she stepped up on her toes and kissed him. In one swift swoop, she had managed a smoother move than Michael Jordan going in for a slam dunk right at the buzzer. Thankfully, his instincts took over and before she could pull away, he had one arm snaked around her waist and bent down to meet her tiny stature enough so he had leverage to kiss her properly. It didn’t take much tempting to get her sweet, plush, little lips to part, and he didn’t give her time to second guess it. He dove in full force, consuming her from the inside out. To give her more to think about, he lifted her, pressing her against his chest. A whispered whimper echoed around their tangoing tongues, and Hulk swallowed each and every one like a starving animal. As quickly as it had begun it ended, leaving her swaying on her feet and him fighting for gravity. No woman had ever altered him with a single kiss until this moment. Without a word he laced his fingers through hers and led her in the house as if nothing had happened, but both seemed to have a new spring in their stride each step of the way.
Like with each prior departure, the entire team had a farewell fit for kings and the one queen. Pop had arrived before dawn alone, and now said his goodbyes with the rest. The only difference this time was the team felt the stab of leaving their family more than ever before. Both the team and the people that stayed behind showed emotion that Pop hadn’t seen before. Alaina and Bella both held the normal reaction, but it was the amount of love that showed from the others that touched his heart. They had to succeed. There were no other options. For the first time, it wasn’t just the country counting on them. It was their loved ones. “We’ll be back as soon as we can. Alaina, get those wedding invitations ready. I promise you it will be our sole mission to get you three married off the moment we step foot on home soil. Vince, you better have a cowboy attached at your hip or we are gonna go out and find you one ourselves.” Alaina hugged his neck first, whispering her thanks and giving him well wishes. The team all got their share of affection and had the weeping kids grinning before they finally loaded up into the trucks to head off to the airport. Everyone had fallen silent, gearing up for the war that awaited them. With their newest member seated in Hulk’s lap, they were ready to rock this shit.
Chapter Three
Four days later, the team finally touched down in Bagram after being stuck first in Russia, then again in Germany, only to find another hang—up they hadn’t anticipated. Their gear had been shipped to another location than where they were heading, setting them behind schedule before they even got started. Now loaded with Mac taking shotgun, they headed in the opposite direction to grab their gear and top secret equipment before it got intercepted by the people they were going after.
Six hours later, they arrived at the small Air Force base south of Jalalabad close to the Pakistan border. They were trudging in hot territory and needed an in and out as fast as possible. Once they got through the gates, they were directed into a makeshift hanger that looked like it had seen better days.
Three airmen walked up and greeted them, wasting no time loading their crates and bags. Their hosts were overly glad to have the company, having been stuck in the septic of the country for eight months now. The FARP was small, having only small shanties turned into makeshift quarters and bunkers. With everything accounted for and checked twice, they shook hands and were on their way.
Once they started on their journey, nightfall had already begun to creep over the sky. “Gear up, NBGs on. Expect the unexpected, ladies.” Everyone went into motion, readying extra ammo and doubling watch as their convoy crept through the rough terrain. Slow and steady they made their way through the docile land, stopping only to scout out the path and dispose of the IEDs that had so thoughtfully been placed along the yellow brick road of hell. The sky was the darkest of the month, having only an eerie sliver of a moon snagged in the highest corner of the sky.
“Dude, hand me that Gatorade bottle. I’m about to piss my pants.” Juju, who sat in the back seat of the Humvee, asked. Vice tossed it back to him laughing. With Rock behind the wheel and Romeo in the turret, she kept her weapon, and her eyes, pointed out the window. They had been instructed to keep noise silent until they were farther north and out of hot country. Which meant they all got the full audio of his wiz.
“Damn. You sound like a horse pissin’. Hurry up already. I need to go and don’t get the luxury of using a bottle.” Vice shifted in her seat in an attempt to relieve the pain in her stomach.
“It’s because I’m hung like a…”
“Juju, shut the fuck up! Have some manners, bro,” Rock scolded.
“Sorry.” Finally he heaved the bottle out the window. Immediately after, the convoy stopped, and they all went on high alert.
“What’s the hold up?” Rock radioed to the others.
“Truck broke down. I want everyone on the ground giving cover. Get the .50 cals hot and ready,” Maverick replied.
“Roger that.” Rock, Vice, and Juju stepped out, keeping watch in all directions.
Taking advantage of the small window of time she had, Vice backed up to the tire and whispered to Rock. “Rock, cover me.”
“Roger.” He covered her area along with his, keeping his NBGs sweeping the area and watching for both of them while she relieved herself.
Vice couldn’t hold it. She knew this wasn’t a good time, but with the others all watching out, she popped a squat and took care of business. Being in the
field with these guys for so many years, she didn’t give it a second thought. There was no modesty, but only a common courtesy they all abided by. Just as she finished, the familiar pinging of bullets flying set them all into motion. She yanked up her pants with one hand and took aim with the other, maneuvering both like a pro. Enemy fire came from all directions. Either they were outnumbered, or their attackers were trying to make them think they were. To their benefit, the ones who weren’t concealed behind something were an easy take down. Vice dropped four in a matter of seconds, sweeping back and forth waiting for the varmints to show themselves and give her a target. As the fire eased off, the team formed only to break off into groups to sweep the area when the sound of vehicles sped toward them and surrounded their convoy. Bodies piled out, somehow fitting an almost humorous number into the tiny crapped out beaters. Circus clowns held nothing on hodgies with weapons. And, chances were, at least one of them would be strapped with meet-72-virgin-dudes suicide vests.
“Fan out and take them all out! Hulk! Smash!” Dom ordered.
“Roger!” Hulk took off in a dead run with Rock covering him to the first Humvee and hopped in the turret. The rest of the platoon clustered as one unit, dropping the oncomers like flies. When Hulk opened up with the .50 cal, the odds began to even out. Pop was on point with Vice in the back, both exercising their skills with perfection. Little by little the team fought the horde of cockroaches off without injury. What they hadn’t expected was yet another ambush from all sides. The bastards had put thought into this. This wasn’t the first time the platoon had been surrounded and in a tight spot, and wouldn’t be the last. Immediately, Pop and Dom improvised, tossing orders at the others to change up their position. They were trying to drive them back to take cover at the convoy, then use an RPG to take them out effortlessly. That may have been their fall last time, but not this go round. Back to back they moved as one, breaking off into threes to cover each direction. With nightfall on their side, the team had an advantage now.
Dom, Maverick, and Juju moved silently, taking them out before they knew of their location. Only two of the insurgents got a shot off that came anywhere close to them. Once they had combed the area, they headed back to help the others. “Coming your way, Pop,” Dom called over the radio.
“Roger that,” Pop whispered back. Before Dom and the other members could hear, their radios squealed in their ears. Vice came over, cussing in a slew of screams before it went silent.
“Vice, what’s your twenty?” Dom asked in a panic. “I repeat, Vice, come in!” Still there was no answer. “Romeo. Whose team is Vice on?”
“She is with me and Hulk. We are about ten meters apart clearing southwards about three hundred yards from the convoy.”
“All units, find her now!” Dom growled.
“Roger! In route!” came the response from the others. The team formed a line, viciously hunting their comrade and shooting anything that moved. With the IR tab they all wore on their Kevlar and shoulder patch, there would be no mistaking her from the enemy. The patch would glow under the NBGs, thus giving them her location when they came across her. Seconds turned into minutes as they scouted the area, fanning in all directions. They continued to call for her over the radios but got nothing. Some of the insurgents had begun to flee, speeding off in unlit vehicles in all directions.
Bud had his eyes peeled, hoping to find she had just lost her earpiece. When he stumbled over something on the ground, he reached down to investigate. Lying at his boot was her radio. “Fuck! She’s not here! I found her radio.”
“Roger. On my way. Stay the fuck there,” Dom ordered. Stomach bile rose in his throat. There was no way Vice would lose her communication with them. If by some chance in hell something happened, as long as she had her rifle she was fine. He said a silent prayer and ran to Bud with Mac close on his heels, hoping his gut was wrong.
“Here. It was at my toe.”
“Okay. We need to search the ground for footprints or tire tracks. If things got hot, she would have moved to an advantage point where she could snipe them out. Stay close.” Dom took her radio and shoved it in his pocket and slowly walked on, looking for any clues that might help. Mac was a huge help, tracking her path with ease. A shooter from the left missed him by about three feet, landing a bullet in the dirt next to him. With his temper taking over he rushed him, immobilizing him with a shot to each leg. Once he went down, Dom disarmed him and held him to the ground. “Where is the soldier?” he asked in Arabic. The dirty bastard didn’t answer, but instead laughed. “You motherfucker! I said where is she!” He kicked him in the ribs, reveling in the crunch sound his boots made. Still, the man cackled like an evil premonition. “Oh, death is too easy for you. You’ll tell me where the fuck she is one way or another.” He pulled out his Gerber, using the pliers in one hand to tear out the man’s front tooth. As he went back for another, the man yelled in pain, thrashing to get free. Dom gripped the pliers tighter, and tugged on the next one. The man screamed through the blood that pooled in his mouth. His gurgled language was untranslatable. “What!?” Still, the man tried again, putting his arms up in surrender. Dom let his grip slack long enough to hit the radio button. After spitting a mouthful of blood out, the insurgent repeated again more clearly. “What the fuck did he say?” Dom asked over the radio.
It was Hulk whose voice came back. “They took her to Allai. There’s some sort of compound there.” His voice sounded like they all felt.
“Bull shit! You’re lying!” Dom let loose on the insurgent and bashed his head over and over with the stock of his gun, taking out his fear and aggression with each blow. Bud ran over and caught him behind the shoulders, holding him still.
“He’s dead, man.”
“Fuck that! She’s here somewhere. Keep looking!” Dom insisted.
“He was telling the truth.” Bud handed over Vice’s M4, knowing her sniper rifle and pistols were still in the trucks packaged neatly…for someone to take! “Get troops to the trucks now!” Dom’s face went hard. Even in the thick darkness, Bud knew that hell held no fury to the wrath that was about to be brought. Between Vice’s hot temper and killer instincts and their brutal force, half of the country was about to go down.
“One step ahead of you. Maverick and I are here. We need to move out. Now,” Rock’s answer came through their earpiece.
“Copy,” came their responses. Dom didn’t say a word. He simply turned, popped three bullets in the terrorist’s forehead, and walked away. Their mission just got changed.
Chapter Four
Dom took off toward Pakistan, knowing they would need to find a way to cross undetected. Under normal circumstances, he would have a file cabinet of ideas and courses for them to take to ensure a perfect task…but this was Vice. There was no doubt she couldn’t handle her own, but these fuckers were worse than Russian or German spies. They held no honor. No integrity. So he called a halt thirty miles from the border and called a meeting.
Vice woke tied, gagged, and with a bag over her head. The last thing she remembered was walking up over a hill and being in the middle of a hornet’s nest. A bright flash had gone off right in front of her face, blinding her through the NBGs. She didn’t have time to radio for help, and only got one shot off before something hit her in the back of the head and her world went black.
Now, as she fought to remember her training to stay alive, her anger boiled over. Okay think. The cold metal bled through her back and ass. She did a fast inventory of injuries, and found her knee, ribs, and head hurt like a bitch. Figures, the cowardly bastards had to beat on an unconscious woman. Too bad they didn’t have the balls to take her awake and unrestrained—she’d show them how American women differed from theirs who were treated as slaves. Just the thought of being battered, unable to defend herself, sent her rage to an all time high. Control. It was the one thing Vice counted on to bring balance in her life, and when someone threatened to take it from her, it was the most unforgivable sin. They had no idea who they wer
e fucking with.
The feel of rope cutting into her wrists and ankles was a good sign. I know I’m in a metal chair. What do I hear? Movement. From the left, and behind me. Two…no three people. They were rattling off in an escalated discussion, giving only a few words in the foreign language she knew as clues. Americans…meeting…money. Go figure. The pungent stench of death and decay wafted in her nose, raising the remnants of the beef enchilada MRE she had eaten hours before up into her esophagus. How many others had been brought here and weren’t lucky enough to escape? Were they all soldiers like her, beaten and tortured for information, or innocent women and children as well? Even with the hood clouding her sight in darkness, blood red illuminated behind her eyelids.
Focus. Deep, steady breaths. I can’t lose my temper just yet. Think, Vice, think. Next, she tried to estimate her location, or find any clues that might give her an idea of her surroundings. Motors could be heard passing outside the walls, along with voices and commotion. All voices she could pick up on were male, which more than likely meant she wasn’t in a normal village, but instead in a compound. She tried to keep her head lolled down so as not to let them know she was awake, despite the overwhelming urge to wiggle and move to get free. Thankfully, rationality hadn’t evaded her and she succeeded.
Someone walked up beside her and removed the hood. Keeping her eyes closed and as still as possible, she concentrated on regulating her breaths, keeping the rise and fall of her chest slow and steady. Her teeth clenched while she waited for the blow, feeling it before the warlord had raised his fist. In one hard crunch to the side of her face, Vice opened her eyes and fixed them straight on the attacker in a lethal glare. He had the same nappy, dirty hair and scraggly beard that fell to mid chest as every other hodgie did. He was covered in filth, showing once again that learning how to shower proved to be too complex for their breed. Learn to fly an airplane or wire enough explosives to take out an entire city, no problem. Lather, rinse, repeat…incomprehensible. Not even the strongest Axe body products could turn these fuckers into something a dog would get close to, much less a horde of women to chase them.
Mission: Compromised Submissive Page 3
