Page 2 of Absolute Valor

“And who is he to you?”

“It depends on who you ask.” Audrey at least owns her shit. There’s no eye or head dropping, no tripping over her words as she mumbles.

“I’m askin’ you.” I can be just as direct, and more determined, than she can ever dream about, one of the many things the marines trained me to do.

“Then he’s the man I have been trying to get away from for about three months.” It’s slight, but the fear she has for this guy is evident in her voice. It’s that tremor which makes me want to jump out of this chair and chase after him, slamming my fist into his face until it comes out the other side.

“Have you tried to get a restraining order?” Audrey shook her head rapidly, swallowing the sip of tea she’d taken as I asked my question.

“As I said, he’s never gotten physical with me before.” Her eyes shift to the ice in her glass and I wonder if there’s more to what she is telling me? “He has been dealing with some things lately. He asked for my help, but I wasn’t able to do as much as I said I would.”

“Momma these grits are incredible. I’m gonna need an extra hour in the gym tomorrow.” Dylan spoke up with his special brand of diversion; a clear indicator to me there is much more to Audrey Helms and this pussy motherfucker than what meets the eye. With the way she stirs things up in my belly, I planned to find out.

“Well, thank you, Dylan, but the credit goes to Miss Audrey. She cooked everything tonight.” I swear my momma is in love with this girl. Priscilla Morgan loves to spoil her boys rotten when we’re all together. Dishing out our childhood favorites with pride in her eyes and an apron around her waist.

“Miss Audrey, you certainly know your way around the kitchen. Dylan is right, these grits are as good as Momma’s.” I wink, giving her a moment to relax, encouraging the belief the enemy isn’t inside this room, but in a busted up truck and most likely nursing a broken nose.

My dreams were full of memories, images of the last mission I was involved in before I left for the States. We had gotten word about a medical team needing an escort from Kandahar to Menarogue. Where the distance was only fifteen klicks, it was also across a stretch of desert known for insurgent activity.

Our plan was simple; fast rope into the area, allowing the SEAL team to set up security and get the medical team to the camp. An Intel drone had shown no heat sources in the drop zone, so we all felt pretty confident as we boarded the Chinook helicopter.

Many of my fellow Marines used to get pissed at me when I was always chosen to go with this team, but SEALs are a close knit group, and some of the cockiest motherfuckers you’ll ever meet. I had proven my skills as an explosive ordinance disposal technician, or EOD, when I disabled a bomb found outside our fence. Where every other swinging dick was freaking the fuck out, I kneeled over the thing, clipped three wires and went to chow.

My buddy, Zach Michaels, or Viper as his men call him, saw the whole thing go down. He spoke with my commanding officer and made it possible for me to tag along for support when they had a mission. During the three years we worked together, I found we had a lot in common. He was a Southern boy from Atlanta, from a wealthy family and in social circles much like mine. His daddy wanted him to follow in his footsteps, but he had other plans. Where I’m the baby of the family, he’s the middle child; his older brother plays for the Atlanta Falcons and his sister owns a bakery.

“You know, this is most likely the last time we’ll get to ride this thing together.”

Zach had been tossing around the idea of not re-enlisting, taking the money he had saved and following his dreams. He hadn’t shared this with anyone except me, not wanting to upset the cohesion he had with his men.

“You’re right, time to sit back and get fat by being lazy.” Zach knew my time had been up since my Granddaddy died. Where Zach had become a SEAL to meet a challenge tossed at him by his brother, I had become a Marine to make my Granddaddy proud.

“Won’t take much if your momma cooks like mine.” Conversation stopped as the pilot let us know the target had been reached, giving us the all-clear sign to push away from the helicopter and rappel down to the sand floor beneath us. When I locked my jumping hook on my rope, the ring caught and wouldn’t let me push off. Kakos was waiting to go behind me, so I signaled for him to go ahead. Switching my hook, I managed to land on the ground less than a minute later.

Matt Parish, or Reaper as the team called him, another EOD, took the right while Kakos, or Havoc, swept the left. I was last off the rope, which left me patrolling the rear. Reaper was from Tennessee, spoke very little, but could shoot a fly off a tar roof from ten miles away. He had a large gash along his jaw line, which started in the center of his right cheek and went all the way to his ear. Two years ago, he was having a drink at a bar in Singapore when a man, with bigger balls than brains, didn’t like the way Reaper looked at him. Pulled a knife and slashed him across the face. Doctors had to take him to surgery to repair the damage to his face. When he called his girl from the hospital, she hung up the phone and mailed his key and ring back to him.

We hadn’t gone ten feet when gunshots came from the ridgeline, striking Kakos in the chest. Alex Kakos, or Havoc, got his name from his ability to rain havoc down on the enemy. He could do a little bit of everything, shoot, blow things up, and build anything from practically nothing. Growing up in a small town in Florida, he was the kid everyone picked on. He came from a huge Greek family who owned a restaurant and bakery.

“Doc!” I heard Viper call into my earpiece as I pressed the trigger of my gun in the direction the shot came from. Reaper was quicker, and as I took a second to check the line with my night vision, I watched as a single man cried out as his gun fired into the air when Reaper’s bullet found its target.

Logan Forbes, or Doc, hovered over Kakos, as blood poured from his chest, staining his shirt a dark color. Before joining, Logan had been accepted to medical school. Weeks before he was to begin, his family went through some struggles in the ownership of their company. His father made some calls and in a matter of days, he signed his name and pledged his life to the Navy in exchange for his medical school tuition being paid. In an ironic twist of fate, his family’s money issues had resolved a year after he began school.

“Come on, I have a strict policy about people dying on me.”

Ryan Biggs, or Ghost, was busy radioing for a sweep of the area. Ryan grew up in Montana, the sixth of seven children. The last thing he wanted was to spend his days rounding up cattle and mending fences. His granddad was into old Ham radios, passing that love onto Ryan. Aiden Sawyer, or Chief, was holding the shoulder of Havoc down as Doc tried to stop the bleeding. Aiden was the oldest of the team, enlisting when he graduated high school. He studied the area and the people around us, gathering information to keep us all alive and going home.

Havoc lost consciousness as we pulled him to the same ridgeline the bullet came from. The body of the man who shot him was slumped over in a puddle of his own blood. Judging by his clothing, he appeared to be one of the locals, either searching for food or hiding from something.

Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I ran my hands over my tired face. My dream reminded me I needed to drop the guys an email, see what they had been up to. Havoc had spent three weeks in the hospital recovering from his bullet wound. The second Doc had given him the thumbs up, he’d jumped right back into things.

“Life is too short to live with regret. Make every day count, even if it means you take a bullet for a friend.”

I called Harmony’s phone last night and as with every other time in the last few days, it went to voicemail. I wished, not for the first time, she had let me pay for her phone, I would have let Austin track it down so I could know she was okay. Kakos was right, life is too short and regret makes you ashamed of who you’ve become.

Last night as I helped myself to a second plate of food, surrounded by my brothers and their girls, I took a long look around me. And while I’m pissed as fuck at Austin for the way he is treating Harmony, I’m also fucking envious of him and the amount of courage he has to stand up to me. Jealous of how Lainie has huge stars in her eyes for the man he is, and not the man she wants him to become.

As with every time we get together there are jabs taken at each other, friendly fire we’ve shared since the beginning. But it was Audrey’s words as she cleaned the used plates from the table, which left the room in silence.

“Sometimes we do things we think are right, because it is all we know to do. Doing the wrong thing for the right reasons doesn’t make it bad. It makes it an act of valor.” Was that what I was doing? Taking the side of the girl who holds my heart against the side of the men who have helped to make me the man I am today.

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