by J. B. Havens
We both watched in fascination as it spiraled through the air, leaving the tell-tale smoke trail in its wake. The rocket hit the lead vehicle square on, turning it into a fire-ball and throwing both frag and bodies into the air. The shock wave hit our faces and threw dust into the air in a thick cloud. The other vehicles stopped their advance and quickly reversed out of range.
“Was that your only rocket?” Jordon asked from where he had stopped to cover us. He shouldered his rifle and fired, hitting two more sicarios through the windshield of the closest truck. The truck swerved out of control and ran nose first down into a washout, throwing the men in the back clear. Most didn’t get up and the two who did Jones and I made quick work of.
“Yeah,” Pierce answered. “I didn’t see any more and I wasn’t going to waste time looking.” He dropped the launcher and ran for the Rover. Men were pouring out of the stopped rear vehicles now, giving chase on foot. I spun and popped off a few rounds, hitting one man who fell to the ground screaming, holding onto his leg. Dammit, rushed the shot. I reloaded again as I ran, dropping the empty mag onto the ground and quickly slamming in a full one.
Following Jordon and Pierce, I jumped in just as Flynn stood on the gas. I landed in the back seat, knocking into Jordon, causing him to grunt in pain as his rifle barrel got jammed into his leg.
“Good thing you put the safety on, huh?” I laughed, righting myself in my seat. I turned as best I could and watched out the back as the sicarios ran after us. Flynn cut the wheel sharply, the tires spinning into the soft dirt of the road. It wasn’t long until I couldn’t see them anymore. The dust we were kicking up would give away our location easily enough.
“Flynn, get us the fuck out of here before they catch up, dammit,” I felt exposed and vulnerable out here in the daylight.
“You want me to pull over so you can drive this fucking brick, Mic?” Flynn shot back at me over his shoulder.
“Watch the fucking road, dammit!” We bounced in and out of ruts and over rocks. If the suspension in this thing had been any good before, it was fucked now.
“Yes, ma’am. As soon as you shut up your back-seat fucking driving. I’m the wheel-man here!” Flynn kept smarting off. Whipping the wheel back and forth and throwing us against each other.
“Fine, have it your way. Could you pretty fucking please, get us the fuck out of here?” I calmly asked, giving him my best smile.
“Sure, no problem, Staff Sergeant. There’s no excuse for bad manners you know.” Flynn finally put his attention back on the road. The blacktop was in sight; the trip back to the paved road had seemed to go by so much more quickly. Why is that? Why did return trips always feel faster?
“For fucks sake,” Jones muttered from the front. Our tires hit the pavement with a screech and Flynn stomped on the gas. I think everyone gave an audible sigh of relief at the smoother ride.
“Nice shot, Jones.” I gave him a high five and just like that, the tension fell away. We were alive, no one was wounded, and our mission was a success. Mostly. “Who was the fucker in the suit?”
“I don’t know, but as soon as I’m back on the jet, I’m going to find out,” he growled. I think the only thing that pissed him off more than a missed shot was a hole in his intelligence.
“He looked important. Maybe Adolfo’s number two. This may not be over, guys. We didn’t get Mercedes either.” I would personally gut that bitch at my first opportunity.
“We’ll get her, don’t worry,” Jordon said, trying to reassure me.
“They’re going to be pissed. Not only did we eighty-six their leader, but we destroyed a fair portion of their poppy fields,” Pierce added.
“I know, I know.” My adrenaline high was quickly fading. Cartels could be wounded, but they were very difficult to kill. There were more sick fucks willing to do their job, than there were good guys willing to do ours. Humanity really was a cesspool of shit sometimes, with greed overtaking any vestige of common human decency left.
“Fuck me, I need a beer.” Today was done; tomorrow we would fight again. Tonight, I would celebrate this small victory. “Who wants to go to Finnegan’s?”
Chapter 17
I was on the jet, headset strapped on while I debriefed Jackson. I had kicked Jones out of his chair and was calmly spinning back and forth while I talked. Wheeled chairs were fun no matter how old you got.
“We missed the guy in the suit, whoever that was. Jones is gathering what information is available now. Mercedes didn’t show at all. We need to plan a second assault to take those two out.”
“Copy that. My phone has been ringing with the aftermath. Apparently one of the villagers talked to a newspaper. Now the media is on this, trying to find out who the vigilantes were that took out half of the Vega cartel. You’re being heralded as heroes by most of the populace, it’s just that the government has to make a show of trying to catch you. Even though they know exactly who you are.”
“How’s my aunt?” For a moment I thought I had lost the call, the silence was so thick.
“She’s good.” There was a slight catch in his voice.
“Oh really? Well, we’ll pick up that topic of conversation when we get back. We’re going to the compound; all of us need a beer. We’ll be back at the Wonka House in the morning.”
“I love how you ask permission, Michaels,” He said dryly.
“I love how you give it, Master Sergeant. Mic, out.” Hitting a button, I ended the call. Looking around at the men, I saw exhausted and dirty faces. We all needed showers and sleep. Even as I watched, Flynn and Pierce nodded off. The mark of a true soldier was the ability to sleep anywhere. Compared to some of the places we had slept in, these were five-star accommodations.
“Can I have my seat back now, Mic, or are you going to find the fucker in the suit?” Jones whisper-shouted at me.
“Sure, sure. Here ya go.” I stood and sank gratefully into my own seat, trying to ignore the sand that was all over me and the acrid smell of our unwashed bodies. The paint on my face was itchy and tight-feeling. I wiggled my jaw around, cracking the paint on my cheeks.
“What the hell are you doing, Mic?” Jordon’s voice startled me.
“The paint itches,” I said, as he rose and took the seat next to me.
“Then go wash it off.” All he left out was the ‘duh.’
“I would, Jordon, but I need my face wash.” I looked at him; his own paint was starting to flake and crack.
“I see, girl problems. Today was pretty intense. I always imagined my first trip to Mexico would be different. Less violent.” He shrugged.
“You’re fucking kidding me, right?”
“No, I always wanted to do the tourist thing in Cancun. You know, lots of drinking and pretty senoritas.” He grinned at me, turning the charm dial all the way up. Lucky for him, charm had never worked on me. Until him.
“Uh huh. Well then. Maybe you’ll get your chance one day. For now, you have to settle for Finnegan’s. Get some sleep, Jordon.” I was small enough and the seat was big enough that I could turn away from him and onto my side. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. Mostly though, I thought about Willie. I thought back to the note I left for him the last time I saw him.
Willie,
Thank you for being here, always. I’m sure we will see each other again, but tonight was the last time for us. I’m a coward for leaving you this note. For that I’m sorry, but I can’t let you grow to care about me, to miss me or mourn me.
Goodbye.
Bea
I could see it in my mind like I had just written it. In the wake of Phillips’s death, none of us had felt like going out and with nothing to celebrate we had stayed in. I wasn’t sure how Willie would react to seeing me again. I knew that he would try to charm me into his bed; it was guaranteed. Willie’s charm wouldn’t work any better than Jordon’s had.
No matter how much I tried to deny it to myself, Jordon played a big part in this. I couldn’t be with Willie, not now. I had shared two kisse
s with Jordon and he had ruined me for other men. Dammit.
Jordon’s breathing got heavy and regular as he fell asleep. The cabin was quiet, only punctuated by a few snores and the occasional mumble from Flynn. He wouldn’t shut up, even in his sleep.
****
Mercedes stood at her bannister and watched the sun set, a crystal champagne flute clutched in her perfectly manicured hand. Tapping her nails against the crystal, her mind strayed to the events of the day. Her useless cousin was dead. Just like her husband and her father-in-law before him. Julio was in charge now, but his interests were not parallel to hers. Julio was not constrained by family obligation like Adolfo had been. Julio was a pit viper who was only looking for his next meal. Mercedes just needed to ensure that he began searching in the direction she wanted him to go in.
Avenging Diego had gone beyond a widow’s grief; it was now a matter of pride and reputation. She could not allow Steel to live; she must complete her husband’s mission. Reputation was everything in her world. It was unusual for a woman to be involved in her husband’s work, but Diego had treated her differently. He recognized her strengths and valued her opinions. They had been the King and Queen of their cartel. She truly mourned him and she would honor his memory by using every tool at her disposal to find and destroy Steel.
Her power was limited by her sex, but she had always found manipulating men easy. Just smile pretty and make your body available and they will do whatever you want. The thought of giving herself to Julio was repugnant. His tastes ran to the exotic and depraved. She would not survive a night with him; few girls did. Offering someone up in her place would have to work. The question was: who?
The answer was so obvious... the woman who led those men. A small and strikingly beautiful woman, who was both strong and fierce. She would not break easily under Julio’s care. His chief complaint had always been that the girls gave up too easily; they quit fighting and accepted their fate. Maybe when Julio had that bitch in his clutches she would stand back and watch.
The thought brought a genuine and nasty smile to her lips. Toasting herself, Mercedes drained her champagne in one long swallow. Leaving the glass on the bannister for the maids, she went in search of Julio, long dark hair brushing her slender silk-clad hips as she walked.
****
I woke to the dinging of the fasten seat belt sign. We were preparing to land. The others were all stretching and groaning awake. My neck was stiff from sleeping in a somewhat unnatural position.
“Fuck me, I’m stiff as hell from sleeping in this chair,” Pierce complained.
“Easy, dude, there’s a lady present,” Flynn said. I expected him to point to me. “Jordon here doesn’t want to see your morning wood.”
“Fuck off, Flynn,” Pierce and Jordon snapped in unison.
“See, you’re already a cute couple, finishing each other’s sentences and shit.” The pain-in-the-ass kept up a steady dialogue of bullshit as we landed.
As we stood to grab our weapons and packs, I’d had enough. “For once, can you just shut the fuck up, Flynn? Save it for later. We’re all tired and dirty and hungry. Unless you want me to kick your ass down the steps, shut your fucking trap.”
Pushing past him, I hurried down the stairs and out into the cold morning. My breath puffed out in white clouds as I walked to my cabin. I didn’t wait for the others or take time to talk to them. I needed a shower and some food. Coffee needed to be in there somewhere too.
I thumbed my nose at the rules and took my rifle into my cabin with me. I would clean and oil it after I scraped off the Mexican desert I had brought home. Toeing off my boots, I left them on the porch, sand falling out of them in a small shower. If it wasn’t so cold, I’d take my clothes off out here as well.
As it was, the best I could do was to leave them in a pile at the door. I almost made it to the bathroom before there was a knock on the door. Standing there in my panties, bra, and Mexican dirt, I debated ignoring it. With my luck, it would be something important.
Donning a robe as I opened the door, I saw Jordon standing there, looking just as cold, dirty, and tired as I was.
“This better be important, Jordon. I need coffee and a shower.” My mood was already in the toilet and was deteriorating rapidly.
“Nice robe,” he stuttered out.
“For fucks sake. Did you come here to admire my choice of loungewear or do you have something constructive to say?” I tapped my fingers on the doorjamb impatiently.
“What time are we leaving for Finnegan’s?” He was struggling to maintain eye contact. I looked down and saw that most of my cleavage and part of my blue sports bra were showing. The bra was old and un-sexy, but boobs were boobs in a man’s eye, I guess. Snapping my fingers in front of his face, I brought his attention back to the conversation.
“Sorry.” He actually blushed. If I wasn’t so pissed off right now, it would be comical.
“Whatever. Six, we’re leaving at six.” I turned my back and shut the door in his face. Leaning against the door, I stayed there until I heard his footsteps go down the porch steps.
“Why is nothing ever simple around here, huh?” I muttered to myself before getting into the steaming hot shower.
****
Outside his cabin there was a new car parked beside to his Judge. Jordon forgot about Mic for a moment as he circled it. The matte gunmetal grey monster had gleaming chrome details. It was sex-on-wheels, a 1969 BOSS 429 Mustang, mean and bad-ass looking in a way that only cars from that period could look. It had to be Rook’s car and it suited him—dark and sleek and fast. The sight of it irked Jordon... Mic would like this car.
Jordon stomped back into his cabin, impatiently waiting for his turn in the shower. Jones was already out and Rook was in there now.
“What’s with you?” Jones asked from where he was rapidly flipping through channels on the TV.
“Nothing.” Jordon’s skin itched from sand being in places sand had no business in. Why were there so many fuck-ups in deserts, huh? Just once he’d like to chase a bad guy around a nice temperate forest or something.
“Doesn’t look like nothing.” Jones air quoted the word.
“None of your business. Is that better?” He was pacing, anxious to get clean and blow off some steam in town.
“Fine... fine. Don’t get all butt-hurt. Just trying to help, man.” His teammate went back to the TV and promptly pretended Jordon wasn’t even there.
Rook came out, rubbing a towel over his dripping hair.
“Finally.” Jordon brushed past him in the hallway.
“Sorry, dude, the hot water ran out just as I was getting out of the shower.” Rook had the gall to smirk at him.
“Of fucking course it did.” Jordon slammed the bathroom door behind him. Wasn’t the first cold shower he’d had and he was sure it wouldn’t be his last.
Chapter 18
I had a moment of deja-vu as we walked into Finnegan’s. The same people were in the same places; the same shitty music was playing. A few new pictures were added to the rows on the mantel, but the wood of the bar gleamed softly under the same lights. I felt different. Looking at the faces of my men, I could see they were different as well.
“Hello, Bea.” Willie’s voice stopped me in my tracks. He looked the same as ever—thick flannel shirt rolled up past his elbows, scars shiny in the low lighting. His amber eyes were burning with longing.
“Willie.” I was cool; I had to be. Jordon was tense beside me. This could go very bad, very quickly. Tension charged the air, I felt stuck between two rams about to butt heads. Little did these boys realize, I was no lamb to be fought over.
“Who’s that?” He asked, gesturing at Rook. “Where’s Phillips?” My silence was answer enough.
“Rook. He’s the new guy.” I realized in that second, with everything else that had happened, I hadn’t done the much needed ‘come to Jesus’ talk with Rook. Now was as good a time as any.
“We’re going to take the big table in the
back. Bring us two rounds each, please. Rook, what do you drink?” Willie knew what the rest of us liked.
“Coke is fine. I don’t drink.”
“What? What do you mean, you don’t drink?” Flynn asked.
“I don’t drink. I don’t need to explain it more than that,” Rook shrugged and left it at that.
“Alright then. The waitress will be right over.” Willie walked away, in as much of a huff as was possible for him.
“Come on guys, we have something to talk about.” I led the way to the back of the bar, past the pool tables. There was a room off to the left with a large family-style table in the center and not much else. At one point, Willie planned to hold small events here, but it never really panned out for him. “Sit down, everyone, Rook has some explaining to do.” Anger tightened his jaw at my words. I sat... and waited.
“What exactly is this about, Mic?” Pierce asked, though if anyone had an idea what was coming, it would be him.
“I’ll let Corporal Riley start. Or should I say Sergeant First Class Riley?” My anger had faded. He owed us an explanation, though, and I was going to get it if I had to beat it out of him.
“What the fuck, Rook? You’ve been lying to us?” Flynn was instantly furious. His temper continued to simmer just under the surface. He’d always been a bit of a hot-head, but it was so much worse since Phillips’s death.
The waitress came in carrying a large tray laden with our drinks and a bowl of pretzels. The sudden silence had her rushing to serve us our drinks and get the hell out of the room.
“Ya’ll just let me know when you want another round, kay?” She scurried out before we had a chance to respond.
“Nice Mic, thanks for this, Rook snarled at me, his anger turning him ugly. “I really appreciate it,”
“It’s time, Rook. Either you’re Steel or you’re not.” I took a long swallow of my Guinness, the creamy beer sliding coolly down my throat. “I thought about doing this in private, with just you, myself, and Jackson; instead, we’re doing it this way. The time for secrets is past.”
