Hardened by Steel

by J. B. Havens

  Hardened by Steel

  Steel Corps-Book Two

  By J.B. Havens

  Hardened By Steel

  Copyright (c) 2016 J.B. Havens

  All Rights Reserved.

  Hardened By Steel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Playlist

  Also by J.B. Havens

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  With this, the second installment of Steel Corps, the list has grown. Writing is the most fulfilling and challenging thing I’ve ever attempted outside of raising my children. Here are the people that helped bring this dream to fruition:

  My husband, Mike, my partner in life. I love you. Thank you for being who you are and loving me in spite of my many faults. Without your encouragement and support I wouldn’t be able to do this. Thank you for your suggestions and for always listening to me and embracing my crazy.

  To Connie, my editor and cheerleader. Thank you for pushing me and shaping my stories into something worthy of the light of day. I’ve become a better writer because of you; thank you for all that you do.

  To Mom, there aren’t words to express this. You’ve given me the strength and tools to shape myself into who I am today. Thank you for everything and for everything you have yet to do. I know your support and love will continue. I hope I’ve made you proud.

  To Aunt Linda, the inspiration behind Aunt Beatrice. Your strength guides me on this journey. I hope when you turn these pages, you see pieces of yourself. I love you.

  To Casey. Fellow author and coffee slut. Thank you for Rook. He’s who he is because of you. Thanks for reading the countless screen shots and being my sounding board.

  To Eric, thank you for your unending critiques and support; for always being willing to be my second set of eyes. Without those videos, your medical expertise, and cartel insights, this book wouldn’t be what it is. Thank you.

  To Anna and Tim, your story has been a huge inspiration to me. Thank you for allowing me to take pieces of it and shape it into my work. Jackson and Beatrice thank you. P.S. You’re never too old for love.

  As always to my cousin, Nobel Havens, Retired United States Army Sergeant. Thank you for your continued help and for always answering my odd random questions. These books wouldn’t be what they are without your help and support. Thank you.

  To my children, my wonderful children. Always for you, everything that I do, is for you. I love you.

  Dear Reader, thank you for picking up this book. Without you to read my words, this would all be pointless. I hope you enjoy the journey Mic takes you on. I endeavor to be a writer worth reading. As Mic would say; buckle up buttercup, the fun is just beginning.

  Playlist

  “Crawling” - Linkin Park

  “Mad World” - Gary Jules

  “Down with the Sickness” – Disturbed

  “Second Chance” – Shinedown

  “Killing” – Korn

  “Physical (You’re so)” – Nine inch Nails

  “Bittersweet Symphony” – The Verve

  “Don’t Fear the Reaper” – Blue Oyster Cult

  “Remedy” – Adele (Jordon and Mic’s song)

  “Green Fields of France” – Dropkick Murphys

  “Dragula” – Rob Zombie

  “Wrong Side of Heaven” – Five Finger Death Punch

  Also by J.B. Havens

  Core of Steel: Steel Corps Book One

  It is recommended that the Steel Corps Series be read in order.

  Chapter 1

  The crack of a palm striking my face exploded throughout the room. The burn and sting came seconds after as furious tears of anger streamed down my cheeks. I held up my arms, trying to protect myself, taking the blows that were raining down upon me with my body instead of my head.

  “No! Stop!” I screamed, twisting and turning, frantic to escape. Terror gripped my small body in a vicious steel band of shock and panic. I had to get away, but I couldn’t. I kicked and thrashed against the arms holding me down. A giant hand gripped my throat and squeezed... pressing down, while laughter assaulted my ears.

  I jerked awake, all my senses on full alert; my heart slammed against my ribs. Even after all these years, the dream never changed; a decade of torment beating me down in my sleep. I looked over at my bookcase at the phone hidden there. I wanted to call Aunt Beatrice now more than ever. She had always been able to chase the nightmares away.

  Instead, I stood and stripped off my sweat-soaked sheets. Dawn was beginning to breathe light into the night sky. The blackness was giving way to dark blue and inky purple. The light just beginning to seep around the edges of my curtains.

  “May as well get up.” I spoke to myself more and more all the time. Ever since we got back from Colombia, and Phillips had been killed, I had these old recurring nightmares, when I did manage to get some sleep. Dreams I hadn’t suffered since I first joined the Army.

  Stepping into the shower, I locked my past away where it belonged and got ready to deal with the day. It had been two months since the night Diego and his men infiltrated our compound. Two months of waiting for another mission. Jackson had given us all a reprieve; we had needed the time to heal and mourn. The wait was over.

  I got dressed in my standard uniform of tactical pants and a fitted t-shirt. I strapped on my KA-BAR and M-9. The boys kept ragging on me to upgrade to something better. There are tons of high-quality tactical pistols out there. Browning and Sig Sauer in particular make fantastic military-grade weapons. I couldn’t bring myself to part ways with it, though. This pistol had been my sidearm since it was first issued to me. Maybe I was like a little kid, unwilling to let go of my favorite blanket; but I didn’t fucking care.

  Walking past my bookcase on the way out the door I looked up, like I had been doing every day for two months. Resting on top of the bookcase was the machete: Mateo’s machete. The one that was used to kill Phillips; which I had also used to kill Diego. I’m not sure why I recovered it from the field that night. I’d cleaned the blood from it, oiled it, and sharpened it to a razor edge. Next to it, resting on its un-used case, was Phillips’s Sig Sauer. It was all that was left of him. Just like the machete, I couldn’t let it go.

  “Get your shit together, Michaels,” I said, as I shrugged into my jacket and walked out the door. A light was on in Jackson’s cabin.

  The remnants of the lingering fog swirled around the compound as I walked the short distance to his cabin. Fall was almost over and winter fast approach
ed. The leaves had changed to a glorious riot of color, but had long since fallen away, leaving the trees bare and skeletal looking. There was a bite in the early morning air, you could almost taste the snow that would soon blanket the compound. The grass was slick with frost, crunching under my boot heels. My breath was puffing out around my face in soft grey clouds.

  Lights were popping on in the rest of the cabins; the team was waking and gearing up for the day, same as me. Today was special, which was why I needed to speak with Jackson before I saw the rest of the men. Stepping onto the small porch, I knocked on the heavy door. It was more of a courtesy than a necessity; he knew I was here.

  “Come in, Mic,” he said, voice still thick with sleep.

  I stepped into the cabin and was welcomed by the comforting aroma of coffee. Standing at his small counter, he held a cup out to me. “Thanks, Master Sergeant,” I said, as I accepted it gratefully.

  “A little early isn’t it?” He asked, filling his own cup.

  “Yes, but I just want to get started. Get this over with.” It was time to move on and today was the start.

  “The file is on the table. Read up; I need to change.”

  I just now noticed that he was wearing only pajama bottoms. Damn, it was early. “Shit, sorry.”

  He waved me off and left to change.

  I slumped into the chair, the folder weighing on me heavily. I had seen this exact file before. Even read it already, but now it was real. Rubbing my thumb-nail down the tab, I opened it.

  His photo was paper-clipped to the front flap; he looked remarkably similar to his cousin, given that Matthew was half Cherokee. Dark hair just long enough that it brushed his forehead, and grey eyes. There was a scar bisecting his right eyebrow. Other than that, he had no identifying marks, no tattoos, or anything that set him apart; provided you discounted his strong jawline and all-over tan skin. He was quite handsome in a rugged way, with his impressive bone structure and carelessly attractive expression.

  “What do you think, Mic?” Jackson said, startling me.

  “Same as before. This might work, but it’s going to be rough. The men are going to flip the fuck out. I wish you had let me tell them, give them time to get used to the idea.”

  “Your protest has been noted. And I’ve overridden it.”

  The soldier’s name was typed on the tab in heavy black font: Riley, Matthew, CPL.

  “When does he get here?” I asked before taking another sip of coffee. The warm rich brew was flavored with vanilla. Perfection in a cup.

  “Any minute. I’d get your ass to the hangar. We’ll finish all this later.” He pointed at the other thick file. The bright orange folder telling me all I needed to know: orange was for Top Secret. The mission was coming down.

  “Copy.” Looking longingly at my unfinished coffee, I did as Jackson said, I got my ass to the hangar.

  ****

  Somehow the others had beaten me to the hangar. They were lifting weights and warming up, getting ready for their daily run. Little did they know, they wouldn’t be getting it in today; well, there was always tomorrow. If they took notice of the missing jet, they weren’t commenting on it.

  “Steel Corps, attention!” I shouted. Without question, they all stopped what they were doing and formed a line in front of me. Each of them would stand there at rigid attention until I told them otherwise. “At ease.” I could hear the jet now; my time was running out.

  “I’ve got news. Our new member arrives any minute.” They were not going to like what I had to say next. I debated even telling them, but I knew if I let this surprise hit them, they would not take it well. “You’re not going to like it, but it’s out of my hands. Just try to make the best of it and don’t kill him.”

  Flynn raised his hand. “Flynn, you don’t have to raise your hand. Just say it.” Jordon rolled his eyes. He must be spending too much time with me.

  “Who is it, Mic?” Flynn asked as the noise increased significantly. The jet was landing behind us. No way could I shout over the noise of the engines. Looks like my time to explain was up.

  We all stood and watched the sleek black jet taxi, the engine noise dying down and slowing, before stopping all together. The steps came down and a lone man exited. He was in standard BDUs with his duffle slung over his shoulder. His cover was pulled low over his eyes, and what you could see of his face was creased by deep furrows. Being pulled out of bed and forced to make life changing decisions was enough to exhaust anyone.

  “Corporal Matthew Riley reporting for duty, Staff Sergeant!” he said, as he dropped his bag and saluted.

  “What the ever loving fuck?” Flynn furiously shouted, losing all military bearing in a single moment of pure rage.

  I spun on my heel and addressed the men, ignoring Riley, who was standing dumbfounded behind me.

  “Shut it!” I shouted. “This was not my choice, but it’s out of my hands. Nut up and fucking deal with it or you can go get your walking papers from Master Sergeant Jackson. Those are your choices. What’s it going to be, boys?” No one made a sound.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Jordon spoke breaking the suffocating silence that permeated the hangar.

  “Jones?” I asked him.

  He crossed his long arms over his chest. “You know me, Mic, I’m Steel for life.”

  “Pierce?”

  “Do you really need to ask?” He raised an eyebrow at me.

  “Flynn?” He was nearly shaking with rage; his face was a livid red. I’d never seen him like this. Flynn was always so easy going and laid back, it was a shock when he displayed strong negative emotions.

  “I’m not leaving, but I want an explanation. We deserve a fucking explanation.”

  “You’re absolutely right. And you’ll get it.” Jackson’s deep voice broke in, taking me by surprise. He stepped around me and faced the men.

  “Corporal, take your place beside Flynn,” Jackson said, his tone allowing no room for argument.

  “Yes, Master Sergeant.” Riley followed his order and took his place among the men. He fit well in appearance; whether he fit mentally remained to be seen.

  “Now listen up. I know I usually let Mic run the show, but in this case, I thought I’d better step in.” I did everything I could to swallow my shock and keep my composure. Jackson spoke to me, then I spoke to the men, that’s how it worked. I could count on one hand the number of times Jackson had spoken to the men in this way. “Phillips is dead. It’s hard and it fucking sucks, but we have to deal. We need another team member and I chose the man that I felt was most qualified.”

  Flynn’s face was nearly purple with rage. If he didn’t calm down, he was going to blow a gasket at his superior and get drop kicked.

  “Now. I expect you men to treat him no differently than you did Jordon. That being said I am not an insensitive prick. But before you write him off, remember this; don’t visit the sins of the father onto the son; or in this case, the cousin.” With that he nodded to me and left the hangar without as much so a backward glance.

  “Right; you heard him. This is Corporal Matthew Riley.” I motioned him to step forward. “He’s a former Marine. Did a couple tours in the sandbox, saw some heavy combat in Baghdad and in the north with the Kurds.” I could recite his file from memory; I had read it so many times just trying to figure out how we would get past this hurdle.

  Pierce was the first to step forward and shake Riley’s hand. “Welcome.” He said no more before stepping back with the others. One by one, they came forward to shake hands until only Flynn remained. I let it go for now.

  “I think it’s in everyone’s best interest for the moment to just call you Matt or Matthew, unless you have a nickname you’d rather go by?”

  “Rook. People call me Rook, Staff Sergeant.” His voice was deep and smooth.

  “Why do they call you Rook?” Flynn snapped the question at him.

  “I like chess.” His strong Native American features gave nothing away. The man seemed completely stoic
. I could live with that; I had enough drama queen to deal with in Flynn.

  “Okay then, Rook it is. You’ll be bunking with Jordon and Jones. Boys, show him where he’ll sleep. I want everyone in the training yard in one hour. Light gear. Flynn, get your ass over here.” I walked away from them, taking a moment to compose my thoughts. I had to handle Flynn just right or this whole thing would blow up in my fucking face.

  I briefly considered going into the soundproof room, but we’d have to take Rook in there at some point, so I didn’t want to tip him off to its existence. Instead, I headed out into the cold morning air.

  I could hear Flynn’s boots crunching the grass as he walked behind me. “Speak your mind, Flynn. This is your one chance, so get it all off your chest. Because in one hour, you better stow your fucking attitude or I will do it for you.” Pivoting to face him, I clasped my fingers behind my back and glared up at him.

  “Mic. It’s just so fucked. Every time I hear his name I’m going to see Phillips on his knees, not five feet from where we are standing! It’s all his fucking fault!” Flynn’s breath was puffing white clouds out at a rapid pace. He clenched and unclenched his fists over and over. I couldn’t remember ever seeing him this angry in the five years we had worked together.

  “Flynn. It’s not. It was Riley, not Rook that betrayed us and got Phillips killed. When shit went down here that night, Rook was ankle deep in blood and sand. He wasn’t even in the country. Rook had nothing to do with Phillips’s death.” I kept my tone as calm and even as I could manage. I felt like I was talking a jumper off a ledge; and in a way, I was. If Flynn jumped, he risked exposing us all.

  “Don’t you think I fucking know that, Mic? God dammit, of course I know it wasn’t Matt or Rook or whatever his fucking name is! Doesn’t it bother you? Seeing his face? Hearing his name? Or are you really a frigid fucking bitch?” It was my turn to seethe with rage. I stepped closer to him, getting as close to his face as I could.

  “Flynn. You get a pass this time. Once. Speak to me like that again and you will regret the day you were born.” I jabbed my finger into his chest with each word I spit out. “Of course it bothers me. It kills me. Rook will never replace Phillips, but that’s not what we’re going for here. Our job is to do what Jackson tells us. Nothing more and nothing less. Rook is here. He will have to go through the same training as everyone else before he’s part of us. Let the kid prove himself. Maybe he’ll surprise us all.”