“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I only recently found out about the opportunity, and you’ve been gone. Plus, even if I had known sooner, you would have just tried to talk me out of it, and we both know that never would have worked. I guess this way we can just avoid the entire, pointless argument altogether.” She chuckled and Jake felt as though his heart was being ripped apart, piece by fucking piece.
There was a slight pause. “Anyway, we’re only supposed to be gone a month, then we’ll be relieved by another group. I’ll call you when I get back in town. Hopefully, we can get together and swap war stories.” In a low whisper, she ended it with, “I...I miss you, Jake. Stay safe, okay? Bye.”
Jake put the phone on speaker and replayed the message. Over and over again, he submersed himself in the sound of her voice. By the time he turned the phone off, his entire body was shaking uncontrollably.
Unable to sit still any longer, he got up and began pacing the room. The pain from knowing he'd never see her again was too much to bear. He felt gut-shot, the rage boiling up inside threatening to burn him alive from the inside out if it didn’t break free. So he let it.
With an echoing roar, Jake turned and drove his fist into the living room wall. A cloud of dust filled the air as paint chips and pieces of drywall fell to the floor near his socked feet. Ignoring the sting in his torn knuckles, he let out a long stream of curses as his hand went through the wall for a second time, his mind spinning with what had become his new reality.
Olivia’s gone. I’ve lost her. Oh, God, I've really lost her!
Chest heaving, Jake pressed his palms and forehead against the wall beside the two newly formed holes and let out a deafening, “No!”
He continued to yell until his voice cracked from the pressure. Jake cried out for Olivia, again and again, with streams of hot tears trailing down his face. He was losing it, but he didn’t care.
The grief he’d been holding back had taken him over, body and soul. He welcomed it, the pain a fitting punishment for the many ways he’d failed her.
Unable to hold himself up any longer, Jake turned and slid down the wall until his ass hit the floor. Pulling his knees into his chest, he rested his forehead against them. Then, like a lost child, scared and alone, he cried harder than he ever had before.
What felt like hours later, the tears finally ceased, and he began to think clearly again. He wiped his face dry, picked himself up off the floor, and started to plan.
He hadn’t been there to save the woman he loved from death, but come hell or high water, Jake would find the fuckers responsible...and he wasn’t coming home until he’d made each and every one pay for what they’d done.
Chapter 3
Jake glanced around at his team, who were sitting in his living room. After his crying jag, he’d cleaned himself up and made the calls. They’d all shown. No questions, no hesitations.
Derek arrived first, and was sitting in one of Jake’s two leather recliners. The thirty-two year old former SEAL looked more like a Californian surfer than a Texan, with his shaggy blond hair and dumbass t-shirts.
Trevor sat stiffly in the second recliner. He and Jake had started out in the Rangers together. Then, after Olivia’s brother was gone, they’d served on the same Delta Force Special Operations team. They’d been watching each other’s backs ever since.
Like Jake, Trevor was thirty-four. He was what Jake had heard women refer to as Hollywood handsome. Right now, the guy looked like ass. Jake wished he could console his friend but was still too lost in his own grief to muster up any sort of comforting words.
Sitting on the couch was McKenna “Mac” Kelley. She was twenty-eight, and also a former Ranger. She was an amazingly skilled sniper, and the only female on Jake’s team. She could be the poster child for the phrase, “looks can be deceiving”.
Mac’s long, blond hair and big, blue eyes made her appear as harmless as a kitten. Her youthful appearance had been an asset on the job more times than Jake could remember. Though she had the whole cheerleader thing down to an art form, the woman could outsmart, out-fight, and out-shoot most men Jake knew. Present company included.
Beside her sat Sean “Coop” Cooper, who was also a sniper and former Ranger. Coop was only two years older than Mac, and had a boyish, fun-loving appearance. He was a good-looking guy, with his perfect nose, green eyes, and slightly pointed chin. He kept his brown hair almost military short, with the exception of the top, which was a bit longer than regulation would have allowed.
Hill stood behind the couch in his usual stance—legs parted, his large arms crossed in front of him. At six feet, he was just a few inches shorter than Jake. The guy was solid muscle, and came off as one scary bastard.
Grant’s short, light brown hair matched the perpetual five o’clock shadow that covered his strong jaw and often-pursed mouth. Jake couldn’t remember a time he’d seen the guy smile.
In fact, it seemed he was incapable of showing emotions of any kind, but tonight, even he looked at Jake with something akin to sympathy.
“Been doin’ some redecorating, boss?” Coop’s voice cut through the thick silence.
The young sniper glanced at Jake’s bruised knuckles and nodded toward the two fist-sized holes in the wall. With his chin between his thumb and forefinger, he pretended to study the damage with an expert eye.
“I like it. Gives the room an airy feel.” He waved that same hand in the air as he spoke, giving his best impersonation of a flamboyant decorator. Mac punched his arm and glared at him, and Derek snickered then coughed
