Page 14 of Under Fire

He stared around at the silent SEALs before him, glowering. He was nearly at a loss for words. As much as he wanted to chew into the crew even more, he let his silence do the talking. That seemed to be the most effective way to communicate his displeasure.

Heaving his rifle over his shoulder, he shot one last disappointed look, like the type of disappointed look that Daddy would give and marched off to his truck. They’d fucking train hard when he told them to, and if they were fucking lucky, he’d cut it short so they could show up to the goddamn ridiculous engagement party. It wouldn’t be the first night of sleep deprivation for the fucking prima donnas.

Boots drumming the ground behind him told him that he was being shadowed. Warren ignored the sound, opening the back of his truck to begin peeling off sweaty body armor. He had places to be that morning.

“Chief.” Crash’s unmistakable voice found its way behind him.

“What’s up?” Warren fired back, still undressing and unholstering his pistol.

“Name your price,” Crash offered, strong and serious. His tenacity was inspiring.

“Price?” Warren spun, eyeing the junior SEAL, who was several years younger than him.

“Listen… I’ll do anything. I’ve just got to get this done.” Crash explained and referred to his fiancée. “I gave her my word.”

Crash grew silent, stoically holding his weapon.

Warren shot the man a questioning look, but the junior SEAL didn’t budge. He held strong.That level of commitment is admirable, at least. It would bode well for the many challenges he would face. And, really, Crash was a decent guy. Hard worker. An important part of the team.

Maybe he was being too hard on his guys.

A recurring pattern.

Crossing his arms, Warren assessed his unmoving subordinate, flexing his jaw as he did, acknowledging how important morale was for the platoon. Operational tempo wasn’t fucking easy, and burnout was real. The ugly truth was that Warren had lost more friends on home soil, by their own hand, than at war. It was a horrific reality that disproportionately affected the SEALs in particular, given all that was demanded of them and all they continued to sacrifice.

Turning, a vision of Alisa flashed before his eyes as he chucked his chest plate on the back of his truck. He didn’t know why, but thoughts of her just tempered him, like she had once before.

“Chief?” Crash pressed, respectfully.

“Fine—no work tonight,” Warren resolved. “But tell the boys that they better not get too drunk, because they’ll make up for it, double time.”

“And you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you—?” Crash then stopped himself, shaking his head.

Warren leaned back, stern and waiting.

A telltale expression spanned Crash’s face, telling Warren that the junior SEAL wasn’t prepared to push any harder.Good.

“Get going before I change my mind,” Warren said.

Crash nodded and spun, breaking into a run.

Warren unloaded his rifle, preparing it for transport. The battle rhythm had been decided—and in the back of Warren’s mind, he knew it wasn’t the worst thing. Crash’s engagement party the next day and wedding just days later would give the platoon the chance to blow off some steam before blowing up some shit in Iraq.

Plus, he was giving Crash the best wedding gift he could—a chance to be a married man before he once again risked his life for his country. Some guys needed to know they had something back home, needed the security of marriage. Not him— He’d gotten married to the SEALs a long time ago. A cruel wife but rewarding as fuck. That was all he needed.

He hoisted himself up into his pickup, saluting the crew as they hastily piled into their vehicles.

“See you tomorrow, boss,” Crash called out over the arid landscape.

Warren let out a sardonic laugh as his truck rolled away.Tomorrow? There was no way in fucking hell he was going to be at that engagement party for a thousand reasons.

He gripped the wheel of his truck then flipped on the music.Classic country. Hell, he’d been born and raised an Arizonian country boy, on a ranch and all. The windows down, air blowing through his truck, he inhaled the dry air of the desert morning, just his thing. The sun just popping over the horizon, Warren had about an hour’s drive back to the city.Bliss.

Checking his black military watch, he saw he’d make it just in time for his morning rounds. Sure would—he was never late.

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