Page 1 of Pirate

PROLOGUE

Gus Sager glanced at his GPS. In the four years since his older brother had moved to Mount Grove, Pennsylvania, Gus hadn’t had a chance to visit. He got emailed pictures and the occasional text message when he was in-country, but never got the leave to travel across the country to come see what all the fuss was about.

When Marshall had first announced he was joining a motorcycle club, Gus had been horrified. Like their parents, Gus believed that Marshall had relapsed and had gone far beyond using drugs to selling them. How could his older brother have fallen so far from the honored and decorated Navy SEAL to a drug dealer? Gus had been trying to figure out how to get emergency leave to come talk some sense into Marshall when Marshall had made a video call to both Gus, who was overseas, and their parents, who lived in North Carolina.

In this call, Marshall explained about the misconception and assured his family that he wasnotjoining a criminal club. Steel, the new club’s President, even came on to talk to them and help give reassurances. Gus wasn’t sure about their parents, buthecertainly felt better knowing that Steel and the club’s VP were former Marines.

Gus would never forget how Steel described the club:“If it helps, think of us as a club of veterans who just happen to ride motorcycles. We are not criminals and never will be. All I want is to offer a safe place for veterans to find camaraderie and a safe haven in a civilian world.”

Those words had certainly proven true. Even halfway around the world, Gus had found comfort in knowing that his older brother, who had severe PTSD, had found a group of people who could relate to his struggles and whom he could rely on.

Now Gus was heading to Mount Grove as a veteran himself—and a wounded one at that. His military contract and career had been cut short when his convoy had been ambushed and his right leg had been trapped under an overturned Humvee. Crush syndrome had kept him from bleeding out in the field. However, in order to save his life, they’d had to do a field amputation.

The moment that bone saw had cut through his leg, his military career had ended.

It had taken over a year, and a total of six surgeries, before Gus could stand and walk again. Hours upon hours of occupational and physical therapy had finally resulted in Gus being able to function relatively normally. He was even able to drive his own car again. He still walked with his crutch on occasion, but those instances were becoming less and less.

The problem was integrating back into a society he no longer fit into.

Marshall had found a home in Mount Grove. His brother’s struggles were far from over or healed, but there was improvement. He’d even gotten a service dog the year before. A four, now five, year old German Shepherd named Aerial. Marshall had sent him the initial training video from when she’d still been at the center in Pittsburgh to get her certification as a service dog. Gus couldn’t argue how happy he was to know that his brother was making progress.

The same sort of progress Gus hoped to find in Mount Grove.

While his PTSD differed from his brother’s, it was still present. Mainly feelings of being partial, not whole. He still wasn’t comfortable wearing shorts and he hated having to use his crutch in public. On days when he couldn’t wear his prosthetic at all, Gus refused to go outside. Upon hearing about this, Marshall had invited Gus to Mount Grove.

Even if Gus didn’t join the club—he didn’t even know how to drive a motorcycle—he was planning on moving to Mount Grove to live with his brother. The two had an apartment lined up at a complex in town. After meeting with Steel and seeing the club’s property, Gus and Marshall were going to head over to sign the last of the lease papers. It was Gus’s hope that his presence back in his brother’s life would help Marshall even more. He’d lost four of his teammates, hisbrothers, in that building collapse; Marshall needed hisrealbrother back in his life.

Getting a job was another issue. Marshall said that Demo, the club’s Treasurer, was willing to help Gus with that, no strings attached. Gus thought that was nice of him but was also hesitant. Did Demo know about his amputation?

After passing miles and miles of crops, a good number of Amish buggies, and several pop-up market stands on the side of the road, Gus finally passed a sign welcoming him to Mount Grove, Pennsylvania. The long road continued.

Gus glanced at the GPS. How big was this small town that he still had a good half hour to the clubhouse? He passed even more crops and pastures with cows, horses, goats, pigs, and other farm animals. Then, all of a sudden, he was passing a hospital and medical buildings. A bridge took him over a wide river that he assumed was fed from the mountain north of town. Without a doubt, he knew he was in the heart of the small town. First passing a veterinary clinic, he was now surrounded by two long strips of brick buildings on either side of the road. Thelight posts, stores, and general atmosphere was fall décor and Back-to-School themed. Being mid-August, it was appropriate—though Gus thought the town went a little overboard with the number of apple decorations around. Maybe there was something apple-related that was important to the town.

The first and only traffic light for miles seemed out of place as Gus drove under the green light. The next block down, Gus thought he saw a building that looked familiar and then confirmed it when he saw the sign for the apartment complex Marshall and Gus would be moving into.

Home Sweet Home, he thought wryly.

Once the town center ended, he went another quarter mile and then turned onto a side road. After another three miles, Gus turned right onto a dirt drive. He followed the winding path down until he came to a parking lot type area in front of a large building with a metal roof, stone and paneled siding, and a shit ton of motorcycles parked outside.

His brother was standing under the shade of the front awning. Aerial, his service dog, was sitting regally at his heels with her service vest on.

Marshall looked good. He’d come to visit Gus in the VA hospital once he’d been transferred stateside. Gus didn’t blame him for not visiting him in Germany. It was the same hospital Marshall had once been transferred to—and where he’d learned the fates of his teammates. Though they stayed in contact nearly every day, it was good to see his brother in person.

Gus parked his car and got out. His leg was stiff after the long drive. Not wanting to, Gus grabbed for his forearm crutch. He would make far worse of an impression by falling on his ass in front of these men than he would walking with the aid of a crutch.

The brothers embraced. Gus was surprised how strong Marshall’s grip on him was. There was an aura of relief that seemed to waft off of his older brother at their contact.

Gus knew in that moment that it was the right decision to come here. Above all else, his brother needed him.

Marshall finally stepped back. Though five years older than him, the brothers were very similar in build and features. Marshall had let his russet hair grow out and even had a full beard now. Gus’s hair was still cropped short, not quite ready to let go of the military regs. Both were six-one with wide shoulders, muscles, and naturally tan skin from their mother’s Native American ancestry.

After clasping Gus on the shoulder, Marshall took a step back. He looked down at his feet. “Aerial,leren.” Then he tapped Gus on his chest twice. “Famili.” He repeated the action two more times. Looking up at Gus, he said, “Snap your fingers twice and say ‘volg rechts’.”

Gus snapped his fingers and said awkwardly, “Volg rechts.”

Aerial immediately got up and walked to Gus’s side, then sat at his heels as she had been at Marshall’s. She looked up at him expectantly.

Gus looked to Marshall, as he wasn’t sure if she’d done what she was supposed to. At Marshall’s nod, Gus put a hand on Aerial’s black ear and gave her a little scratch. “Good girl.”

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