On Distant Shores (Exiles Triology Book 1) (3 page)

              “Aww, you say the sweetest things.  Mike, you’re the only one I know that can take military jargon and turn it into a complement.”

              “Well, that is technically not military jargon; it is a tongue in cheek description of what happens to bad guys when they meet a highly motivated paratrooper on the battlefield.  Or in a perceived safe house in the suburbs.”

              Jo shook her head, “you’re such a geek.  Why perceived.”  She walked to the table and started to pull the sections apart.  She sat down, and then asked, “what if said man is gay?”

              “Which said man?”

              “The one that you said should be interested in looking down my shirt.  What if he’s gay?” she asked, mischievously.

              Mike pulled off the last of the bacon, folded the omelet, and replied, “Well, if he’s turning room temperature, then he’s a dead gay man.  If he still has a pulse, any gay man that you meet would instantly wish he was straight.”

              “Aww, that is so sweet.”

              “Is it working,” Mike asked.

              “No, but it is still sweet that you said it.” She tilted her head and smiled at him, returning his no bullshit look back at him.

              “Fishing for complements today, are we,” he smiled as he asked.

              She sat up and wagged her head from side to side, “maybe.”

              He replied to the other question, “It is a ‘perceived’ safe house, because if my team goes in looking for the bad guys, it is a very unsafe place to be.  At least for the bad guys.”

              He kissed her on the top of the head as he finished talking and placed the omelets on the dishes, setting the bacon next to the omelets, and started moving plates to the table.  Jo had been busy while he cooked.  There was jam and buttered toast on the table.  Cold glasses of milk were set out.  The comics section was folded so that Mike could start reading as soon as he sat down.  Jo knew him well, Sunday comics before international affairs or politics, and sports last.  She like to think of him as her highly motivated, extremely fit, science geek, and his choice in what to read on Sunday morning emphasized this.  Both the dogs moved to the table and took up positions to eat anything that fell from the table onto the floor.

              Mike sat her omelet in front of her.  She picked up her knife and fork, and, oh so daintily,tasted the omelet, then put a pepper and salt on her it.  She started delicately and slowly eating small bits, savoring the omelet.

              He sat down at the table, and moved his legs so that they were around her legs under the table.  They played footsie under the table while they ate.  Occasionally a leg would jerk as one of the dogs licked, sniffed, or otherwise tried to start the game again.  Every so often, part of a biscuit would make its way under the table.

              “Anything interesting in there,” she asked.

              He nodded his head, “Oh yeah, that Beetle Bailey is plotting against Sarge, and I think he’s finally going to get it right this time.”

              She shook her head, this time with a smile on her face, “You’re such a nerd.”

              With his legs tight around hers,he locked one foot behind the other.  He gently pulled her by the upper arm to him and started to kiss her on the cheek.

              “Yeah, but you still love me.”

              She dodged his kiss, “you have a bit of egg on your mouth.  Wipe your face.”

              “I’m trying to, but you keep moving,” he smiled as he replied.

              “Oh, you’re so gross,” she stuck out her tongue at him.

              “Yum,” he replied, as he moved from her cheek to capture her tongue.

              She finally relented and allowed him to plant a kiss on her lips.  As soon as he moved away, she made a big show of grabbing a napkin and wiping her face.

              “What a perv,” Jo stated.

              Mike nodded his head, “I can be.”  He smiled a lascivious smile at Jo, “but you do that to me.”

              Jo smiled and shook her head, “Nothing about that is perverted.  That is strictly fun time.”She pointed at a story in the newspaper, “and, not you, another perv.  Evidently, the new North Korean dear leader likes coke and young girls.  And I don’t mean Coca-Cola.”

              “So you mean he’s exactly like his old man.  I bet there is some Viagra in that pharmacological cabinet somewhere.”

              “Evidently, and more than likely.” She said to emphasize both points.  She stretched, her arms moving towards the ceiling, “I’m going to take a shower.”

              “You need any help with that,” he asked, the innocent, boyish expression on his face again.  Jo threw the napkin at him and went into the bedroom.  He watched as her butt swung from side to side.

              “You’re staring at my ass, aren’t you?”

              He nodded his head, and slowly, but emphatically stated, “Yes I am.”

              An exasperated sigh hung in the air.  It was a game they played, and one they both enjoyed.  She smiled, knowing that he couldn’t see her expression and walked towards the bathroom.  She played coy, but she loved Mike’s attention to her.

              Mike read some international news about the new North Korean Dear Leader, who had a fondness for coke, other recreational drugs, and young girls.  The leadership in China seemed to be perturbed about his fondness for young, Chinese girls, and the fact that quite a few of them seemed to be missing from the Chinese side of the border. 

After reading that particular bit of news, he folded the paper as he heard the shower start.  He picked up the plates and scraped the leftovers, what little there was, into the dogs’ dishes.  Tails wagged as the food in the dog dishes suddenly seemed a lot more interesting than anything else.  As the dogs tucked into the food, Mike took the plates to the sink and made sure there was no hardened egg on the plates before he put them into the dishwasher.  He walked to the table, picked up the paper.  As he grabbed the papers, he took a good, long look at the picture of the coke head that was now in charge in North Korea.  You never know who you would be staring at through a rifle scope.  Then he took the papers and threw them into the trash can. 

Mike started whistling as he went into the bathroom.  He closed the door, dropped his shorts on the floor, then he walked to the shower.  The mirrors in the bathroom were steaming up.  He was smiling as he opened up the shower and stepped in.
              “Hey!”

A long pause, and then, “We’re still going to Denver.”

Mike replied, “I never said we weren’t.”

The bathroom was quiet as the water in the shower kept running.

--------------------------------------

“You bought a what?”

“A bassinet.”

“What the hell is a bassinet?

“It’s like a small crib for new born babies.”

The three men walked from Everett’s SUV to the compound.  Mike loved Fort Carson, surrounded as it was by the mountains in the distance.  They had gone out to lunch, and were returning to the office.  Master Sergeant Everett Calhoun looked at Staff Sergeant Roberto “Rob” Torres y Torres.

“Rob, I can tell you have never been around a nesting female.”  Everett was a handsome, fit man, thirty-eight, African American, with Cherokee blood on his mom’s side.  He had a reddish cast to his tan skin.

Rob flashed the smile that was famous in bars and bedrooms around the local area.  The man was a magnet to attractive woman.  He could walk into any bar, announce that he was Roberto Torres y Torres, in a serious deep voice, and then start making jokes about his mom and dad having the same last name. His easy smile showed bright white teeth against dark skin.  His thin waist and wide shoulders cut an imposing figure, combined with the easy grace of a natural dancer when he was on the dance floor.  Women’s eyes naturally gravitated towards him.

“No, I try to leave that to other men.  I avoid the messy part of the biology.”

MSG Calhoun looked at SSG Torres.  “That’s not what I hear.  I heard it got pretty messy the other night when that 1
st
Lieutenant got pissed that you were dancing with his girl.”

Rob nodded his head, “Different kind of mess, but, yes, though I did buy him a beer after he went over the couch.  He’s lucky, I talked to the bouncers, and told them that he was a friend of mine and it was private disagreement.  So, they didn’t kick his ass on the way out.  Plus, with all the blood on his shirt, he had to leave early.  After the beer of course.”

Everett smiled at Mike, drawing him into the conversation.   “Mike here has a friend that was asking about you.  Seems nobody knows the name of the Hispanic male, medium height, 180 pounds, who split the lip of their company executive officer.”

Mike nodded, “Yep, you may want to stay away from 3
rd
Armored Cav land for awhile.  There
may
be a few fellows looking for you after this weekend.  Or, if you do go that way, you may want to take D’Inazio with you.”

Mike was talking about Sergeant First Class Mickey D’Inazio, the “Beast of Brooklyn,” as he styled himself.  Most of the team was of average build, slim, muscular, but not anything to really stand out in a crowd.  It was different with D’Inazio.  Irish mother, Italian father, right out of Brooklyn.  He had been lifting weights since he was thirteen years old.  At six feet, three inches in height, he was a good 240 pounds, with very little body fat.  He complained about all the running he did for the job, because of the increased carb and protein load he needed to maintain his muscularity.  With Mickey in tow, Rob wouldn’t need anybody else to watch his back.  Plus, SFC D’Inazio was one of the team medics.  If a fight broke out, he possessed the skills to patch people up.  It was usually the other guy that needed patching up, though.

All of the team took their combat skills seriously, but it was not as if Rob went out of his way to get into bar fights.  If he was that unstable, he wouldn’t be on the team.  The bouncers and patrons knew Rob as a fun guy, no real harm in him.  It was usually a pissed off boyfriend or potential boyfriend he had to contend with. 

MSG Calhoun said, “One of these days, some pissed off male is going to shoot you in the dick.”

“You’re one to talk, Everett.  How many ex-wives do you have, three or four?” Rob asked.

The master sergeant replied, “That would be three ex, and four kids.  Plus, I’m always on the lookout for my next ex-wife.”

Rob asked, “That is different than me because . . . ?”

Everett replied, “Because I believe in holy matrimony, and think that it is a sin to co-habitat without the blessing of God.”

“And your priest . . . ?”  Rob asked.

Mike chuckled, “Rob, Mike is a protestant.  He doesn’t have to ask forgiveness for his sins from a priest.  He goes straight to the source.”

“You Protestants are a crafty bunch.  I have to get up early on Sunday to get to church, otherwise my priest gives me grief about not going to church when I’m in confession, and adds that to my act of contrition.”

Everett nodded in agreement, “Thank the lord for Martin Luther and Henry the 8
th
.”

Rob looked at Mike, “And you and Jo?”

Mike replied, “We’re straight up heathens.   I find my religion in Jo’s arms.”

Rob nodded, “Jo is a lovely woman.”

Mike smiled, “I’ll shoot you in the dick if you come around my house.”

Rob shook his head, a hurt look on his face, “No, no it is not like that.  Besides, Jo would shoot me in the dick if I came ‘round your house, and she would have a shotgun.”

MSG Calhoun said, “And she’s a better shot than Mike.”

Mike took offence, “Hey!That is just not a nice thing to say.”

Rob replied, “Mike, everybody on the team is a better shot than you.”

“That’s not a bad place to be though.  The team is a highly trained, cohesive, killing machine.  Civilians are not better shots than me.  I’m pretty damn deadly on the range.” Mike retorted.

MSG Calhoun just shook his head, “What about the civilian target in the tire house?”

“One, just one, in three years on the team.  Besides, she had shifty eyes.  I think that she was a collaborator.”

They walked to a non-descript building, one that didn’t stand out from any of the other buildings in the area, two stories high, standard brick military construction.    The only difference was the chain link fence with the razor wire on the top.  There was a sign stating that the building was a secure area, and that deadly force was authorized.  There didn’t seem to be any security, until they stepped through the door.  Behind the door was a window with thick plexi-glass and a revolving plexi-glass door.  There was no way in unless you presented your ID to the security guards behind the counter.

They showed their IDs, and were buzzed in.  Individually, they stepped through the revolving security gate.  They started walking down the hallway towards the team room.

The ground floor was filled with the offices of the headquarters staff.  TheFlight Commander, LTC Bretscif, and his staff were at the front of the building.  Normally, in a special operations unit this size, a company size element, there would be a Major as the Flight Commander. Since they were not located close to headquarters at Fort Bragg, in North Carolina, it was deemed to be a good idea that the commander was a Lieutenant Colonelto deal with other officers on Fort Carson.