by Laura Acton
Broderick shouldn’t have been there in the first place. He didn’t meet the age requirements. Murphy knew he would’ve been the star of the training cadre if General Daddy didn’t pull strings so Broderick could join early. “Must be nice to have a General smooth your way, let you skate by, get anything you want,” Murphy groused out loud.
It also stuck in his craw Broderick and Hunter got nearly five months off after they graduated. Blake was sent directly to his unit in Kandahar, while Broderick and Hunter got time to diddle around before being deployed. And when they were finally deployed, they were assigned to the unit Murphy wanted to be a part of.
The scuttlebutt was Lieutenant Blain’s unit was the best in Special Forces. Damned Broderick and Hunter got special favors and were assigned to Blaze instead of him. They got all the most glorious assignments while he kept getting stuck with sucky units.
Although in some ways that worked out for him, Murphy realized. He moved up in rank and position faster than Broderick. And he found a kindred spirit in his hatred of the Brodericks in Major Plouffe. Actually, the major hated the Brodericks more than he did.
Blake gave grudging respect to General ‘Badass’ Broderick—the man actually scared him a bit. However, Blake’s hatred of Dan Broderick burned deep. Whereas the major loathed all Brodericks—especially the general. That was okay with Blake because Plouffe’s fervent abhorrence facilitated Blake’s career advancement. Murphy smirked when he recalled he had quickly surpassed Broderick in rank.
It was fortunate Major Plouffe was the one Sergeant Carrall reported him to when he and Travis beat the crap outta Broderick on the first mission Broderick did with his unit. He expected to be dressed down and put on report. Murphy smiled as he recalled all the times he got away with making Broderick’s life miserable.
Hell, he not only got away with it, but he also received kudos and promotions for doing it from the major. Every time he succeeded with what Plouffe wanted him to do to Broderick, Blake got kudos, promotions, or pay raises. The major smoothed over and outright hid many of his actions, so his service record remained pristine.
Murphy was damned glad he got Gleason to agree with him about Broderick’s position that day. That was a great success for him, even though Broderick didn’t die at the terrorist’s hands. Plouffe had been exceedingly happy with him and promoted him to Master Corporal with a pay raise.
Now, he just had to take out Broderick—get rid of the man he hated with a passion. Once he did this, he would finally get his promotion to Warrant Officer—in record time.
As Sergeant Murphy examined his limited options, he felt an increasing sense of unease. This was a challenging task, but the rewards were worth the risk. A small shiver went down his back as Blake recalled how the major reacted when he was unsuccessful or was in a foul mood.
Murphy tried to forget all the shameful things Plouffe made him do or did to him when he failed. The major could be one sick scumbag, and he liked to cause suffering. Every time Plouffe used him as his fuck toy, Blake’s skin crawled, and he escaped mentally while it was happening by focusing his mind on his hatred for Broderick.
Frustrated he might endure the abuse again if he didn’t find the perfect location, Murphy scanned for a sniper location. Ah, the perfect place—no one will see me there.
As Murphy exited the courtyard to go climb the tree with dense foliage, which was just behind the courtyard wall, he grinned. Today I’ll succeed, and I’ll get my promotion. Asshat starts his dirt nap today!
F.I.N.E. Day for Men in Uniforms
11
July 19
Grand Citadel Hotel – Lobby - 2:40 p.m.
Appropriately dressed and armed the group had left the room with Dan flanked by Blaze and Winds and encircled by Alpha Team. William followed slightly behind—comforted by the level of care and protection afforded Daniel. They congregated in the hotel lobby waiting for the vehicles to be brought around to the front entrance.
A six-year-old boy, with a wild mass of ginger curls on his head and freckles smattering over his nose, stared open-mouthed seeing a general, a captain, and a corporal in full dress uniform. His eyes raked over the other army men in battle fatigues and carrying assault rifles. Their tan berets told Ryker Wilder they were Special Forces. His daddy had been in the regular army but talked about the Special Forces a lot. He missed his dad still. They were supposed to take this vacation together, but his dad died six months ago.
Ryker gawked at several decked-out policemen also all wearing a sidearm. One guy in a black suit with a black bag slung over one shoulder could be a spy or something out of James Bond. He wondered why they all surrounded one policeman. When the constable in the middle turned, he grimaced at his horrible, gross face.
“Ewwww, what happened to his face?” Ryker loudly remarked. Then he remembered. “Mom, Mom, Mom, look! It’s him! It’s the guy. Mom, Mom look,” Ryker said. He tugged on his mother’s arm with one hand and pointed with a finger on his other hand.
“Who?” Lizzy asked, somewhat irritated as she turned to see who her son pointed at. She gaped in awe at the scene in front of her. Wow! Now there are some handsome men! Her heart fluttered as she stared at the group. She was a sucker for men in uniform. It was what first attracted her to David Wilder.
Her eyes found who her son ranted about—the constable from the news reports. Geezus, he looked awful. She guessed they were heading to the funeral of the constable who died in the gang war. Hundreds of officers, seemed like most of the police force, turned out to pay tribute to the fallen officer. Lizzy didn’t think the injured officer looked up to going by the condition of his face alone. Add in the sling and the brace on his wrist, and he is truly in no shape to attend.
Lizzy understood men who served, and police didn’t differ from soldiers in that regard. At her husband’s memorial service, David’s buddies all came, though they should have been in the hospital. Five wheelchairs lined one side of the gravesite. Lizzy wiped a tear away.
David’s unit encountered trouble as they escorted a truck to supply a local village with water. Everyone in the unit would have died, but a Special Forces unit showed up and saved most. To hear the guys talk about their rescue, it left the impression all Special Forces men were seven feet tall.
In reality, only one of them was nearly that tall by their account. Archie told her a giant risked his life under heavy fire to go to David who became pinned down after being hit multiple times. The giant carried her husband to safety and tried his best to save him, but David’s injuries were too severe, and he didn’t survive.
Lizzy drew in a breath and exhaled slowly as she put the memory away. She still loved him with all her heart and struggled to find her way in life without him. David wanted her to love again—he was that kind of man. Though Lizzy didn’t think she could ever love another man the way she did David.
Why are they armed if they are going to a funeral? Her eyes landed on the impressive general. Wow, the constable is apparently cut from the same cloth as his father. The news reports said Broderick was the son of General Broderick. It made sense to her now, the armed soldiers must be the general’s personal guard, and the constables must be additional security.
She scanned the guys once more, enjoying looking at the soldiers. Yeah, I’m a sucker for men in uniform, but there is no harm in looking. One man stood out. My blessed stars, he is a magnificently handsome man. Elizabeth Wilder sighed as she stared at the captain. The military style cut of his jet-black hair coupled with his hazel eyes was striking. Dang, he exudes power and sensuality. What she wouldn’t give to meet him.
Lizzy pulled her eyes away and got a hold of herself. She glanced down at her son who still rudely pointed. She lightly admonished him. “Ryker, it isn’t polite to point. Come on, let’s go to the pool.” Lizzy tugged on his hand to get him to move, but he planted his feet firmly.
“But, Mom!” Ryker balked, wanting to stay and watch the army men and police officers.
His cry dr
ew the attention of the captain whose eyes rapidly assessed the situation. Geez, this is embarrassing, Lizzy thought as she tried to drag her son away.
“I wanna be a soldier, Mom. Just like Daddy was. They got cool uniforms and guns,” Ryker said as they moved away.
Blaze watched as the mother tried to wrangle her son and smiled at her. He saw the blush creep into her face. Yeah, uniforms attract some women, he thought as he turned his attention back to Blondie.
The vehicles pulled up to the entrance. Two TRF SUVs, one Army Humvee, and one BMW limousine. Dan gaped at his father. “A limo?”
General Broderick nodded. “Serves three purposes. Easier for you to get in and out of. A softer ride, so you aren’t jarred. Most importantly, fully armored to keep you safe.”
Stunned yet again, Dan shook his head. “A bit of overkill, don’t you think?”
William stopped a moment and peered into Daniel’s eyes. “Not when your life is at stake, son. I’m done pretending I don’t care—it left you vulnerable. I care, and I’m going to show you from now on.” He reached out and gently put his arm around his son’s shoulder and guided Daniel towards the door.
Alien! The general is definitely an alien. It’s the only explanation, Dan thought as he walked with his father out of the hotel.
En Route To Church – 2:45 p.m.
The group split up into the vehicles Nick, Jon, Bram, and Winds loaded into one TRF SUV. Lexa, Loki, and Ray got into a second one. The general, Dan, Blaze, and Patch settled in the limo with Master Corporal Angus MacDonald driving. The army vehicle brought up the rear of the procession with Corporal Duncan Weber, Master Corporal Russell Kostopoulos, and Warrant Officer Oscar Halverson. To limit Dan’s exposure, Jon and Blaze planned it so they would arrive a few minutes before the service started.
En route, Jon asked the question which nagged him for a few days. “So, Winds, I noticed your reactions when Dano said he was fine moving to okay. Do fine and okay mean different things to Dan?”
Nick and Bram waited for an answer, intrigued by the question.
“You spotted that. Excellent observation,” Winds said but didn’t answer further.
“So, do they?”
“Yeah, they do,” Winds said, still not offering an explanation.
“Spill it, man! What is the difference?” Jon demanded somewhat forcefully. “I’m responsible for Dan now. I need to know. He said fine a lot in the past year. I assumed he was fine, but now my gut tells me that isn’t the case.”
Winds considered if he should tell and concluded it was important. Blondie could hide so much with the simple word ‘fine’ if they didn’t know. It would be in Blondie’s best interest to tell them. He studied Blondie’s tactical lead. Jon Hardy’s expression was intense, and his gunmetal gray eyes bored into him. So much like Blaze in intensity, Winds thought.
He revealed the difference. “It is how we gauge his emotional and physical well-being. We had no clue there was a difference between fine and okay until we crashed on the way back from a mission. We all sustained injuries. Blondie regained consciousness first and took charge. He got us all to a defensible position to wait for extraction.
“The kid was hurt—seriously—but kept telling Patch and me he was fine. Blaze suffered a hard blow to the head and was out for a long time. I assumed control of the unit until Blaze regained consciousness. I made a stupid decision—one which put Blondie in real jeopardy …” Winds trailed off as he recalled ordering Blondie to take the morphine so Patch could stitch his palm. One stupid mistake could’ve cost Blondie his life.
Though he smiled as the thought of Blondie’s hallucination came to mind. Winds glanced at Bram who gave him a strange look. Must be because of the contradiction in his words and his smile. “I’ll have to tell you the full story someday. We laugh now, but at the time … not so funny.
“Anyways, we learned the difference between fine, okay, good, and great in Blondie’s mind. The last three are all acceptable. Never heard him say great, though. Usually, he says fine or okay. If Brody was around, Blondie hit good. Blondie needs help if he says fine.”
“Why would he need help if he’s fine?” Nick asked, fascinated by what he was hearing. Dan is an interesting and complex man.
“Because fine doesn’t mean fine,” Winds said. Still getting confused looks from all, Winds chuckled. “Fine actually stands for Fucked up, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional.”
The guys took that in. Jon remembered after most uses of lethal force Dan said he was fine. Jon let it drop thinking all was okay. “Dammit, Dan!” He needed clarification. “Does it ever mean fine or does it always mean FINE?”
Winds raised his brows at Jon’s outburst—again so like Blaze. “Blondie’s a creature of habit. He sticks to the code. So yeah, fine never means the fine. When Blondie says fine, he needs attention, medical, emotional or both.”
The senior members of Alpha Team tucked this information away for future use.
Bram could see Jon’s eyes flashing. Knowing Jon was berating himself for some perceived failure he tried to lighten the mood. “Good to know. Guess we’ll add it to Loki’s “Proper Care and Feeding of Dantastic” manual.”
Jon, Nick, Bram, and Winds all laughed.
Arriving at Church – 2:53 p.m.
Four vehicles pulled to a stop in front of the church at almost three o’clock. Loki handed out headsets to everyone after they exited the vehicles. He said, “We need to make sure we are all in contact in case anything goes awry. Not that I expect …” Loki trailed off not wanting to think too closely about the fact Plouffe would be here. The man was insane, and this would be a prime opportunity to do something to Dan or the general or both.
Ray saw Dan struggling to put his headset on one-handed so walked over to him. “Let me help.”
Dan reluctantly handed over the headset and allowed Ray to put it on. It sucked having both arms incapacitated. After Ray finished, Dan said, “Thanks.” He thanked many people lately. So many people helped him. Their concern and care humbled him.
Ray patted Dan on the right shoulder. “You would help me if things were reversed.” He grinned when Dan gave him a lopsided grin. Man, what a difference a year made. Who would have guessed a year ago he would like the man standing before him—consider him a brother? Not Ray, but he was glad of it and for it. Both he and Dan had terrible pasts, but they both took the positive route. He patted Dan’s back again as they prepared to walk the short distance to the entrance of the church.
As they all moved, the general’s phone rang. William took the call while the rest halted waiting for him to finish. After he hung up, the general said, “That was the JAG office. They have the arrest warrants for all the parties and are sending out MPs to locate the men and execute them. We are not to engage the major at the funeral. MPs coming from CFB Borden will take him into custody when they arrive. For now, our priority is Daniel’s safety.”
Then William addressed Blaze specifically. “If Major Plouffe tries to approach Daniel for any reason, your first priority is Daniel’s safety. You are authorized the use of whatever force may be required to keep Daniel safe. Understood?”
“Yes, sir!” Part of Blaze wanted the major to approach Blondie so he would have reason to kill him. Though a greater part of him wanted the major nowhere near Blondie.
The unit guys took up their perimeter positions around the outside as the others headed toward the entrance. As the group approached the church, a multitude of cameras flashed, and Dan wished he was wearing sunglasses. Jon and Blaze rapidly assessed the surroundings. Aaron’s memorial service had turned into a media circus. They noted the uniformed officers had things under control. The officers had corralled the horde of media in a cordoned off area a respectful distance away.
Stepping inside, both Blaze and Jon had similar thoughts. With hundreds of police officers present at the funeral, the major would be nuts to go after either Broderick. But the major might be nuts given all he did over the years. Their gut
s churned thinking about Dan being near Major Plouffe.
Ottawa – Colonel Ryan Broderick’s Home – 3:00 p.m.
Ryan hung up the phone and turned to the group relaxing in his living room. It had been a while since they all gathered together. His brothers, Mark and Erik, arrived first. Followed closely by his sons Adam and Zach. His nephews Scott and Jeff came next. Kyle would be the last to arrive.
As his wife Connie entered the room with a tray filled with mugs of coffee, Ryan smiled when his boys jumped up to help their mother. “I arranged for the plane to be fueled and ready to go as soon as Kyle’s flight arrives from Halifax at about eight thirty. That is the earliest one available.”
Jeff groused, “I’d like to give Foccard a taste of my fists for screwing with Kyle. Denying him leave, that bites. Glad you intervened Uncle Erik.”
Erik snickered. “I had fun reading Kyle’s CO the riot act over the phone. Foccard isn’t even fit to command a latrine.”
Scott cringed. “Dad, you sure that won’t come back to bite Kyle? You know he has to report back to Foccard after his leave is up.”
“Already in the works. Spoke to Lieutenant Collins, who is Foccard’s CO. He was already looking to transfer him off the ship. Foccard’s bad for morale, Collins said. He’ll be gone before they ship out again,” Erik said.
Scott raised a brow. That wouldn’t help Kyle between the time he got back, and they replaced Foccard. But he would say nothing now. They could address the issue after asking how Kyle wanted to handle things. It was Kyle’s problem. And as much as Scott wanted to resolve it for him, his little brother would be ticked off if he intervened without permission.
