“I brought one too,” Damon claimed.
“So, we have to do it fast,” Tony replied. “We have no water and 4000 calories of food. I sure hope we are right about our location.”
“We are,” Michael reassured the men. “Well, men, are you ready to do this?” Michael took command of the situation; he always led.
“Yes, sir,” the men answered in unison.
Michael pushed the button to open the back hatch, which looked like a seagull lowering its beak. A piece of the metal aircraft lowered and rested against the earth. The men readied their assault rifles and made their way cautiously down the ramp. Everything was quiet, Tony thought. Too quiet.
Michael and Tony were the first on the ground. Holding their weapons at the ready, they raced for cover behind two nearby buildings, then supplied cover for the other men from each side of the street. They had a long way to go to make it to the outpost. The nearest one was two and a half clicks southwest of Al-Wahda in Karada.
The men gathered up against the two buildings. They needed to move in the southwest direction, so that meant Tony would provide cover for Michael and his group. Michael ran across the street and made it to the building. Next, Leroy and Kevin ran as fast as their legs would carry them, and they made it. Finally, it was Damon’s turn. Just as he stepped out of the building’s protection, he was shot by a rooftop sniper. He fell to the ground, crying out in agony. Before anyone could stop him, Troy took off running into the open street. He made it to Damon and scooped him into his arms. With the men laying down cover fire in the direction the bullet had come, Troy made it back behind the side of the building with Damon over his shoulder.
“Tony,” Michael asked, “go atop the roof and make sure we got the sniper.” Tony stayed against the side of the buildings taking cover where he could find it. The sniper could still be up there and Tony wasn’t dying today. It only took Tony minutes to climb the stairs to the roof. Once there, he cautiously opened the door, his gun at the ready. He hugged the inside of the wall and ran behind a round piece of metal protruding from the roof. Seeing the man lying on the ground with blood pooling around his body, Tony had to make sure he was dead. Aiming his gun at the man’s head, Tony squeezed the trigger to put one bullet between the man’s eyes. Then, he ran back down stairs to the Unit and gave them, “All clear.”
The men snuck their way in and out of buildings, hiding from al-Qaeda. Entering an alleyway, they came upon a barred metal door. Rob took out his lock-picking tools and made quick work of the lock. They entered the building cautiously, discovering it was a hardware store. Each man cleared his assigned area of the store and reported back to Michael, who stood guard over Damon with Troy.
“Rob, you have to look at him. I’m covered in blood,” Troy beseeched.
“I’m here, brother,” Rob reassured him. It was bad. Damon had been shot in the head but wasn’t dead.
Rob walked to the corner and nodded to the others to gather around him. When all his brothers were there, he spoke, “There’s nothing I can do. He isn’t going to make it. But we can’t stay here much longer.”
“What do you suggest we do? Leave him here for dead?” Troy asked incredulously.
“Of course not. You get him, Tony, and we’ll have your back,” Michael said matter-of-factly, gesturing to Tony.
Tony lifted Damon over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, and they made their way out of the hardware store and walked straight into a firefight. Word must have spread about their downed chopper. The men ran for cover, but not before Troy fell prostrate to the ground, a bullet between his eyes.
Tony continued to carry Damon, but he felt it the minute life left the man’s body. Damon’s head, which Damon had been holding so as not to bang against Tony’s back, was now bobbing against him with each step he took. Behind a building with bullets whizzing by, Tony lay the dead man onto the street.
“He’s gone,” Tony said to the rest of the team.
“Let’s take a minute. We lost two brothers and our pilots,” Michael said as he reached out and grabbed hold of Tony’s hand. Each man held the other’s and said the Lord’s Prayer. They couldn’t carry these men back to the outpost and expect to make it themselves. Each man squeezed each other’s hand in a comforting gesture. After the Lord’s Prayer was said, Michael retrieved his map and marked the bodies’ coordinates. He knew they wouldn’t be here when and if they could come back for them, but this little bit of information would help their families. Troy and Damon were part of their unit, which now consisted of six.
Bullets whizzed by the men as they hugged the wall. Unexpectedly, a man in a long, white gown and a keffiyeh upon his head stood before them, hands in the air.
“Don’t shoot,” the man said in with a thick accent.
Michael and Tony pointed their guns at the man’s head while the others held off the al-Qaeda cell.
“Please. I help you. Follow me,” the man assured.
“What’s your name?” Tony asked in perfect Kurdish.
“Mussa. Mussa Aamer. I friend,” Mussa said.
Tony and Michael exchanged looks and spoke wordlessly, a skill they had developed while fighting next to each other day in and day out.
They would keep a close eye on Mussa in case it was a trap. Tony whistled and the men followed Mussa through the town.
Tony asked Mussa, “Why do you help us?”
“Money. You pay me.” There were some Iraqis that truly were opportunistic.
“We will pay you if you can get us to the Karada outpost,” Tony growled. Tony was pissed that he was risking his life for the Iraqi people and fighting the war on terrorism, which was occurring in their backyard, and still they wanted to be paid.
In a six-man formation, with Mussa leading the way, they moved quickly and quietly through the streets of Al-Wahda closer to Karada. Occasionally, they would exchange gunfire with an al-Qaeda cell in certain areas. Word of the downed helicopter spread like wildfire. Every cell seemed ready to greet them with ammunitions of their own. Walking through hell, the men formed a bond, placing their lives in each other’s hands. Surviving the crash, losing two brothers, and making it to the outpost, together and alive, through gunfire and abandoned buildings cemented their bond. It was strong enough to make it through the next five tours in Afghanistan and Iraq. Together, Tony, Michael, Rob, Steve, Leroy, and Kevin would become the unbreakable and elite fighting force known as the Unit. The army’s best.
2012
“Are you ready to go?” Adam said, before leaning in and kissing Julia on the cheek.
“Thanks for walking up here. You didn’t have to. I could have come down if you had called,” Jules said, grabbing her purse.
Jules lived in a townhome on the outskirts of Washington, D. C. That was all she could afford. It cost too much to live closer to the university. Her house had cream-colored walls, blonde hardwood floors, a paisley carpet runner on the stairs, and a small bathroom with a tub/shower combo. She was proud of her home. Although it was built in the late 1890s, it boasted two bay windows looking out of the front. There was another bay window in her bathroom. The small galley kitchen was perfect for her needs. She had spent her tax refund on stainless steel appliances. The cabinets were made of the same blonde wood that adorned her floors. The outside of her home was painted brick, a light green color, with a grayish-blue door. Jules worked hard at her job as a journalist while still striving toward her graduate degree in journalism. She always wanted to be an investigative reporter, and she knew that someday she would accomplish her dream. That was why she chose George Mason University for her graduate work. The university’s journalism program was highly regarded.
Tonight was a rare occasion when she wasn’t working or studying and could actually go out. Adam was persistent, she would give him that. He had first asked her out over two weeks ago. Jules didn’t really want to go out with him, but her friends encouraged her.
“It’ll be fun. And you, of all people, need a little fun,”
Abigail said to her four nights ago.
“I do need some fun. But Adam? He is so good looking and charming. He seems like a player to me,” Jules confided in her friend.
“Just give him a chance. One date. You have to get over my brother.”
“You know that I am over him. I don’t even like him. After he had sex with me and left me for the army, how could I like him?” Jules asked angrily.
“Oh yeah? Then why do you still wear his dog tag?” Abigail had a point.
Jules didn’t know why she still wore his dog tag after all these years, but she couldn’t bring herself to take it off. She hated Tony in a way that only loving a man could make one do. She hated Tony for leaving her. She hated Tony for sending his dog tag and giving her false hope. But most of all, she hated Tony because he didn’t want her. He chose his Green Beret career over her.
Jules was burdened with the memory of the night they made love. Every night before she went to bed, she recalled what it felt like to be in his arms. Always holding his dog tag, she would reminisce the way his lips felt against hers, the way they felt on her skin, what he felt like inside her. He was her first. She had been with other men since Tony, but none could ever compete with him, which was another reason she hated him so. He stopped her from having a normal relationship.
“We’re going to miss our dinner reservations if we don’t get a move on,” Adam admonished, standing near her door with his hand on the knob.
Jules shook her head to clear away the memories. “Sure, let’s go.” With Adam’s hand on the small of her back, she was guided through the entrance.
Being the player that he was, Adam walked to Jules’s side of the car and opened her door for her, trying to steal a kiss. Jules ducked her head and slid inside, not giving him the chance. She jumped when he slammed the car door a little more forcefully than necessary.
He got into the driver’s side and started the engine.
“Where are we going tonight?” Jules asked curiously. She could do this. And for once, she wouldn’t compare Adam to Tony.
“Fiola’s on Pennsylvania Avenue. Have you been?”
“No, but I’ve heard great things from Abigail. Italian, right?”
“Yes. You’ll love it.”
They entered the restaurant, and Adam said, “Reservation for Martin.”
“Right this way, sir.” Adam led Jules through the trendy restaurant to a secluded table toward the back.
“Back here we can have some privacy. I hope you don’t mind,” Adam said, acting like the perfect gentleman. He didn’t sit until Jules sat first.
Even though he didn’t have a sense of humor like Tony, maybe tonight with Adam wouldn’t be so bad.
“Stop it. I will not do this to Adam or myself tonight,” she reminded herself under her breath. Adam looked at her curiously.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t catch that. What did you say?”
“It’s a lovely place. Thank you for bringing me here,” Jules said, raising her eyes to meet his for the first time that night. She couldn’t let him think she was crazy for talking to herself.
They enjoyed the Italian cuisine, and Adam, being the perfect gentleman, would not think to allow her to pay, although she did reach for her wallet.
“It’s been my pleasure, Jules. Tonight is about you enjoying yourself,” Adam said, looking into Jules’s deep eyes.
Adam, once again, opened the car door for Jules, and she found herself enjoying his company. She had only compared him to Tony twice, but she knew she would be doing much more comparing after she was alone in her bed.
They fought the downtown traffic for an hour before finally exiting. The drive back to her place tonight would take them down a dark, lonely road. Adam chose that spot to make his move, placing his hand on Jules’s knee. At first, she let it be, but then his hand moved higher, creeping up under her dress. Right as he reached the apex of her thighs, Jules announced with authority, “Stop the car.” She would rather walk home than be in the car with Mr. McHands.
Adam kept driving, not even tapping the brake. When he forced his fingers under her panties, she demanded that he stop the car. This time Adam listened. He pulled to a stop in the middle of the road.
“Thank you for an almost lovely evening, Adam,” Jules said sarcastically as she got out of the car and started her walk home.
Adam, apparently dumbfounded, sat in the middle of the street until Jules was a good hundred yards ahead of him. He had just put the car into drive and started creeping forward when, out of nowhere, came a tractor-trailer, ramming into the side of Adam’s Lexus. In its all-out effort to stop, the truck flipped onto its side, pushing Adam’s car through the guardrail and into the lake that sat along the side of the road before coming to a stop.
Jules, at the sound of impact, turned around and stood helplessly, watching as the Lexus was pushed into the water. She couldn’t help Adam. Water. The thoughts came rushing back to her, crippling her. Her father, the bastard that he was, had held her head in a bathtub full of water, repeatedly, because she talked back to her mother. That was when she was seven. Although that wasn’t the last time her father had tried to kill her, it was the first time, which she remembered the most. Now Jules had a severe phobia of water. She could only shower. She never took a bath; she was afraid she would drown.
Helpless. She watched Adam’s car sink below the water and waited for him to come out of the lake. She waited and waited. The truck driver. She ran to him, thinking he could jump in and save Adam. She climbed up on top of the truck’s door and looked inside. Unconscious. She jumped back down and pulled her phone out of her purse, dialing 9-1-1.
“There’s been an accident,” she said with a shaky voice. “Adam hasn’t come out of the water yet, and the truck driver is unconscious.”
“Where are you?” a calm, reassuring voice asked.
“By the lake on Route 621. Hurry. I think he’s going to die in there.”
“The medics are en route. Stay calm, ma’am,” the reassuring voice told her.
She mentally kicked herself. Why did she have to be deathly afraid of water? He was going to die. She had to do something. Climbing over the guardrail and down the embankment, she stood at the edge of the water. Tall grass touched and tickled her legs. Still, she stood, unable to move another inch. Fear had a tight grip around her throat.
“Adam,” she cried out hoarsely. Nothing.
Collapsing on the edge of the bank, she began to sob. She was powerless to save him, and worse, it was all her fault. If she hadn’t told him to stop the car, they’d probably be back to her place by now. It was all her fault. She couldn’t enter the water to save him. She had never felt more helpless in all her life. Her mind drifted back to the only other time she had felt truly helpless—not when her father beat her or even tried to kill her. No, it was when Tony left her for good.
Present Day
Tony stood in a line next to Michael, Rob, Steve, and Kevin on one side of the altar at the Catholic Church. Emma and Lola stood opposite the men. Rob, holding baby Liam, stood next to the priest. The baby was getting not one, but four godfathers. Unorthodox, yes, but necessary in this case.
“I can’t pick just one of you,” Rob said to Tony a few months earlier.
“That’s fine, man. We will all stand for you and be there for little Liam should he ever need anything. You know that. He is as much ours as he is yours,” Michael said with a shit-eating grin spread across his face.
The truth was, nothing made Tony more content than seeing his brothers so happy. Most of them had begun to settle down and start families. Kevin had been married to Sandy since before joining the Unit. Michael had married Emma a few years ago, after saving her life. They had taken some time to enjoy each other after Michael almost lost her to the terrorists and then to a rogue CIA agent. Now, they were expecting their first child. Rob had rescued Lola from the Ortiz cartel. He’d almost lost her to the sex-slave trade, but now they were happily married and had little Li
am.
Tony and Steve were the bachelors of the Unit. Their status was often the topic of Lola and Emma’s conversations, and Tony had endured more than one date at the request of the two ladies.
Lola was a devout Catholic, and she had convinced Rob to take her faith as his own, so a Baptism to wash away the baby’s original sin was in order. Their service was a private affair being conducted after parish Mass was over. It was early afternoon and the parish priest tipped the bottle of holy oil onto his thumb, using it to draw a cross upon the baby’s forehead as Rob held the baby over the basin.
As Tony watched the priest pour the holy water over his child’s head three times, he wondered why Rob and Lola decided to wait until the baby’s first birthday to have him baptized. He would have to remember to ask him. Although being a godfather to baby Liam didn’t mean what it used to, Tony would still be there to be a good role model for him. He would be active in his life because Rob was his brother and Lola, by extension, was also a big part of his heart. He loved his brothers and would die for any one of them. Rob handed the baby to Tony, and Tony cradled him against his chest. Liam instinctively rubbed his head on Tony’s suit jacket.
“Already wiping his nose on me,” Tony joked with the group.
Tony pulled his black Ford F-250 truck up to the curb and parked behind Michael’s Jeep. Looking out of the window into the bay window of Rob’s home, he had to admit, Rob really had the life. He had found a new happiness with his baby and his adoring wife. Tony felt a pang of jealousy. He desperately wanted what Michael and Rob had: a partner. However, he knew that the only woman for him was Jules, always had been.
Tony stepped out onto the curb of Rob’s sidewalk and closed his truck door before following the curve of the path to Rob’s front door. Without knocking, he opened the door and asked, “Is this where the party is?” A devilish grin spread across his face as Emma walked straight into his arms and hugged him like she hadn’t seen him in years. Emma and Tony shared a special bond after everything he did to save her from the terrorist cell that had come after her.
Harder (The Unit #3) Page 2
