PRIVATE: A Military Romance Novel (Military Men Book 2) (5 page)

There was always time to have a sense of humor while on deployment. Once you lost that then you may as well turn in your gun and leave. Otherwise there was no real way to deal with the things we saw and did.

Gun shots rang out through the empty streets, they sounded like they were coming from inside the bank. It was largely a non-descript building, not advertising anything in its windows like most banks did back home. Why it was a target for the Taliban was above my pay grade.

“We need to move in,” Spencer said. I couldn’t disagree with him. There were innocent hostages inside with those lunatics and they had no qualms about shooting anyone they wanted to.

“On three,” I replied. He signaled the other men that had assembled, including those from my troop. They nodded their understanding and I counted down with my fingers in the air.

On three, we moved.

Chapter 6

Sasha

҉ ҉ ҉ ҉ ҉ ҉

There was no time to think, only time to act. We rushed at the building on Rafter’s count, hoping to get the upper hand by surprising the terrorists inside.

I was running on pure adrenalin and instincts as I followed my superior inside. He was fearless as he charged, not worrying about anything except saving the innocent people.

It was that kind of courage that I admired in him. He seemed to be in his element out there in the middle of all that chaos. Private Simon told me Rafter’s promotion was only recent but he acted like he had always been the leader. He’d taken to his new position like a duck to water.

The moment we crossed the threshold and entered the building, all hell broke loose. One of our soldiers had thrown a smoke grenade on the floor, hoping to confuse the enemy and earn a few precious moments that we could use to our advantage.

My goggles prevented any smoke from getting into my eyes so I could still keep them open, but there wasn’t much to see through the dense fog. I could see muzzles flashing through the haze in front of me, but they definitely weren’t those of my allies.

As I got into position I could make out the screaming hostages running in all directions, taking advantage of the chaos. One went down only a few feet in front of me, his face covered in a moment of panic as he fell. He wouldn’t be getting up again, not with a three-inch hole in his chest and his blood pooling on the floor.

One of the Taliban went down and then another. We were winning but there were more casualties than I was comfortable with.

The last standing enemy made a run for it inside, slipping through a door and disappearing. Rafter motioned for me to follow him as he pursued the man through the building. Somebody had to be accountable for the bodies lying on the floor and he was all we had left – the last standing survivor.

We were breaking protocol by leaving the hostages before securing them, but I couldn’t just let Rafter go alone. Rafter had field experience already and I wasn’t going to question him on my first day in the field.

The corridor was dark as we stalked through it. The cool steel of my gun was only mildly reassuring in my clenched hands, holding it tighter than I should have. It was my lifeline there, maybe the only thing that would stand between me and death.

Rafter held his body firm, his muscles clenched in his jaw as we passed by a window. I wondered if his heart was banging against his ribcage like mine. The tiniest of noises had me on edge, fueling my determination to stay focused and strong.

Like Rafter had said, this was only the beginning of our months of deployment. I needed to step up, I didn’t want to be responsible for any of my comrades being hurt. I wanted to contribute, help win this miserable war, and not let my family down.

We rounded a corner and entered another room, the first we’d come across. It was in the middle of the building, with no windows to illuminate the space. The man could have been hiding in any one of the many shadows.

Before I knew it, the hunted had become the hunter. Our target was on the move, right toward Rafter. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion, yet I still couldn’t get a clear shot off without risking Rafter’s life in the process.

“Watch out,” I cried, but it was too late. Rafter didn’t have a chance to process the information and defend himself before the man was on him. He had Rafter by the throat, the polished silver of his knife reflecting a beam of light from just under Rafter’s chin.

“I will kill him,” the man said, a cruel twist to his lips. “Give me your gun.”

The piece of steel in my hands was pointing firmly at him. I had to make a decision in a split second. Someone was not going to survive the confrontation and I didn’t want it to be our side.

I couldn’t think.

I couldn’t move.

Rafter’s eyes stared at me while his head gave me an almost imperceptible nod. It took a moment for the signal to sink in. He trusted my abilities, he was giving me permission to hold his life in my hands with my next actions. Maybe his opinion of me wasn’t as bad as I thought it was. This was life and death, and Rafter was telling me to do what I was trained for.

It was time I proved to him what kind of soldier I really was.

Through the small spots of sun filtering in through the door I could see the man’s eyes. They weren’t scared or worried, he stared me down with nothing but hatred blazing behind his brown eyes. He was determined to win.

But so was I.

My finger tugged on the trigger and fired. The bullet pierced the man’s head, blood rushed from the wound as he staggered backwards. Rafter quickly left his hold and spun around to train his gun on the man. There was no need, he wasn’t even moving anymore.

I’d taken his life.

No matter how many times I told myself it was justified, I still couldn’t shake the horrible feeling swelling in my gut. A life was still a life.

“Are you okay?” I asked Rafter. He nodded and prodded the body of the man on the ground, double checking that he was definitely dead. My gaze rose to Rafter. “You’re bleeding.”

His hand went straight up to his neck, holding the wound there. Blood seeped through his fingers. “Bastard cut me.”

I quickly grabbed a handkerchief from my pocket and held it out. “Use this, it will be cleaner.”

Voices from the corridor started to grow louder. It was the chatter of our side, not those of the Taliban. Rafter seemed to be a bit dazed as he slumped against the wall.

“This room is clear,” I called out, only a minute before faces of our troop appeared in the doorway. “We’ve got one man down.”

Rafter turned away so his injury couldn’t be seen. He stayed that way until the men moved on. We were alone again before he spoke. “We need to get out of here.”

“You need medical attention for that wound. It’s still bleeding.”

He shook his head. “I can’t.”

Rafter pushed past me without further explanation. I followed him obediently as we hurried through the building and out into the harsh heat of the day again. The smell of gunfire still lingered in my nostrils.

He kept moving until we were a few blocks away from the bank. Rafter sat in the middle of what once was a small house, now just debris and the resemblance of four walls. The handkerchief was completely stained red against his neck.

“You need to get back to base so a doctor can stop the bleeding,” I told him. Every second we hesitated could mean the difference between life and death.

“It’s not that bad.”

“Yes, it is. We have to go.”

Once more, he shook his stubborn head. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” I insisted. “You know all injuries must be reported and attended to as soon as possible. It’s protocol and it’s also smart.”

“I can’t, Kincaid.” He stared at me, trying to convey something he couldn’t by using words. It took a few minutes for me to understand.

“Because we shouldn’t have been in there alone?” I asked. He gave a solemn nod. “I’m sure they’ll understand if we explain. I mean, we got the result we needed, right?”

“I’ll be reprimanded regardless of the outcome. The major needs unquestioning obedience from his soldiers. We are supposed to follow orders. If they find out about this, they will take away my promotion.” His gaze went skywards as he kicked a stone and sent it skittering. “My first mission as corporal and I fucked it up. Bloody hell, I shouldn’t have gone down that fucking corridor.”

My mind raced as I tried to think of a solution. Back home, my brothers were always getting into trouble and needed help getting out of their sticky situation. I was an expert at thinking up excuses and alibies. My brothers would have been in jail a dozen times if I hadn’t been there to help them.

Unfortunately, my mind was just a vortex of swirling brain matter. There was no way to deny we had gone off on our own. Others had seen us in that room alone, we couldn’t ask them all to cover for us.

I let out the breath I was holding. “Let me see how bad your injury is. Maybe I can do something to help without needing a doctor.”

Rafter pulled back the sodden handkerchief. The terrorist’s knife had scraped against his neck, puncturing a vein. It was messy but it didn’t appear to be life-threatening. The blood flow had been downgraded to an ooze instead of a gushing river.

“I can clean it up. You might be able to get away without stitches,” I said. “We’re going to need to find some water and plasters.”

“I have water and there is a first aid kit in the truck.”

“We should hurry then.”

Rafter kept the handkerchief pressed to his wound while we returned to the truck. It took almost an hour as we weaved our way through the streets. He barked some orders to the others while we went, making sure they were firmly away from the truck for a few hours.

When we finally arrived, he told me where to find the first aid kit while he sat in the back of the truck. My hands were shaking as I joined him.

“You’re going to need to lie down,” I said, picking up the bottle of water. “It’s going to hurt too. Sorry.”

He lay down awkwardly, trying to angle himself so the water would run out the back instead of pooling on the floor of the truck. I took the handkerchief from him and starting pouring water over the wound.

Rafter winced but he didn’t complain. His neck had to be killing him with pain by now. I had no choice except to use the handkerchief to help clean the cut. I kept dabbing at it until all the dried blood was gone and only the fresh blood remained.

It seemed like an incredibly intimate act to be doing to him. I was in his personal space, tenderly touching the sensitive skin of his neck.

I used some gauze from the kit to dry the area and completely inadequate plasters to pinch it closed. If he kept his collar up he could do a pretty good job of hiding it.

“You did well out there, soldier,” Rafter said, wincing from the pain.

I wasn’t going to admit how much I enjoyed the compliment and the way he called me ‘soldier’. It was the first time he’d ever acknowledged my work. “It could have easily gone the other way and ended differently.”

“You were confident and quick, you did what you needed to in the moment. Many others wouldn’t have been able to do that,” he continued

For a moment our eyes locked together and I was speechless. All I’d heard from him was how I didn’t belong there and now he was admitting he had underestimated me – maybe not in so many words, but I would take what I could get. “It’s what I was trained for, I did nothing special.”

Rafter shrugged and then remembered his injury as the pain rippled through him. “Well, thanks, anyway. I’m glad I’m alive to tell the tale.”

Silence settled between us as I worked on his injury.

“Stitches would work better but I think it’ll hold for now,” I said as Rafter sat up again. “You’ll probably have a scar.”

He gave a weary smile. “Chicks dig scars, right? I’ll be irresistible now.”

“I thought you were before.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. I felt like slapping myself for the slip.

An uncomfortable silence followed my stupid comment. Rafter only broke it when he cleared his throat. “Thanks for patching me up.”

“You’re welcome. What do we do now?”

“We pretend nothing happened and continue on with our jobs.”

“What if someone else reports you? Any of those men could rat you out to the major.”

“They won’t,” he said with confidence. I couldn’t be so sure. In my experience, it was usually those you trusted most that would betray you.

High school had been a bitch for me. I knew the lesson well.

“I’ll check in with the others and decide on where we need to go next,” Rafter said, standing and pulling out his cell already. He was probably dizzy from the loss of so much blood but he wasn’t going to admit it.

Men.

They were all the same.

Chapter 7

Matt

҉ ҉ ҉ ҉ ҉ ҉

It had been a long day when we returned back to base at nineteen-hundred hours. All my men were exhausted and covered in dirt. There was only one thing we wanted more than a soft mattress and that was food.

The mess hall was the bustling heart of our base. Voices all mingled together as we ate, enjoying the safety and comradery while together and off duty. The inviting smell of mass-produced meals drifted through the air.

I’d finished my tray and was listening to Watson tell us stories about his girl back home when I was summoned to the major’s office. My stomach fell to the floor when I received the note.

I tried not to look guilty as I approached his office. Like all the buildings there, it was temporary. One day, after we win the war, there would be nothing left of the base.

Kincaid was already sitting in his office when I entered. Instantly, I knew what the summons was about. Someone had ratted on me and now I was going to be held accountable for my mistake at the bank building.

I wondered if the rat was her.

More than anything, I hoped it wasn’t. I could accept anyone else other than Kincaid. Perhaps it was because she had looked me in the eyes and promised she wouldn’t. Perhaps it was for other reasons I didn’t want to deal with yet.