Archer's Voice(104)
He interrupted with the same question he’d asked the last time she told her tale. “Stronger than SEALS right, mummy?”
“Yes, honey. The very best,” she replied at the interruption. This time, she expanded a little further. “Not just strong of body, though, sweetheart, but strong of mind...” she pointed to her temple “...and strong of heart.” She pointed to her heart. “But your father always said that being a soldier is never just about strength. It’s also about knowing what you want, how hard you’re willing to work for it, and what you’re willing to sacrifice for it.” She choked over the last words and faltered.
The little boy placed a chubby hand on her cheek. “You ‘kay, Mummy?”
She swallowed the sadness that formed a lump in her throat and forced a smile for her son. “Yes, little man, Mummy is okay. In fact, Mummy is going to be just fine.” She ran a loving fingertip down the soft, precious skin of his cheek. “Your father wanted to be an SAS soldier so much. More than he even wanted to breathe.”
“What’s breathe, Mummy?”
“See this?” She drew in a deep breath and exhaled noisily into his hair so he giggled. “That’s breathing. Breathing helps keep your heart beating, sweetheart.”
His big, dark eyes peered up at her intently, and her heart ached. “Did Daddy’s heart beat too, Mummy?”
She swallowed another lump at the memory of the words forever etched into her heart. “Your daddy once told me that his heart only beat for one thing.”
“What was that?”
“I’ll tell you.”
She began the rest of the story …
CHAPTER ONE
Approximately 5 years earlier
Forward Operating Base (FOB) Khost
Eastern Afghanistan
“Yo, Kendall!” Jake called out.
Ryan turned and gave him the finger. Jake hadn’t shut up the entire afternoon. He’d been trying to tune him out, but Jake was a relentless bastard. Always had been.
Jake shook his head in mock disgust. “That all you got, mate?”
Ryan chuckled and turned back, continuing behind their Troop Commander, Paul “Monty” Montgomery, as he set the pace along the Pakistani border. Monty was enough to inspire confidence in any soldier—fit and experienced with uncanny instincts. He’d proven himself numerous times under fire. Relying on Monty to make split-second decisions—whether to fire or hold ground, push forward or retreat—was reassuring as f*ck.
Twenty-five long days they’d been in the field now, finishing up their final patrol before heading back to base. Their SAS team was tasked with reconnaissance. Gathering intelligence on the Taliban in the mountains of Eastern Afghanistan was notoriously dangerous.
The air was dry and hot, and the mountains rocky and a pain in the ass to navigate under the cover of night. And the dust—f*ck, he was over it. It got in his hair, his clothes, and even his ass crack, making the trek that much more uncomfortable.
“Is that all I got?” Ryan raised his brows at Jake as they kept up the punishing pace. “It’ll hold you for now.”
“I need more than that to hold me. I need a drink and something to f*cking eat.”
Ryan’s stomach grumbled in reply, rolling over with a loud, queasy thump. Rations had been depleted two days ago, and he’d been pushing away visions of thick steaks and hot chips ever since. “Don’t talk about food.”
“How much further ‘til we hit our extraction zone, Monty?” Jake called out quietly.
“Two k’s,” Monty replied without allowing his focus on their surroundings to waver. Despite the talk, the hunger, and the exhaustion, his entire team remained alert and vigilant. The thought of an action being the cause of an injury or death was their worst nightmare—simply unthinkable. But that shit happened, and when it did, Ryan was just that much more determined to keep being a soldier. They all had more to fight for than a war—they were fighting for those they’d lost too.
“I can handle that,” Jake replied. “Not so sure about Kendall here. He’s looking a bit weak and tired. Maybe we need to stop so he can have a nanna nap.”
With a back aching from the heavy weight of his pack, Ryan turned and rolled his dark brown eyes at Jake.
Jake grinned in reply, his teeth white against the filthy camouflage covering his face. Jake was a good looking sonofabitch—choppy blond hair, green eyes, and a movie star smile. It fooled most because he was a tough, determined bastard with more drive in his pinky finger than any other * that made it through SAS selection. Jake could out-run, out-shoot, and out-lift all of them. He was only one of a handful that made it through the hell that was SAS selection.
“Good one, *,” Ryan muttered. “Why don’t you quit eyeballing my ass and keep your mind to the f*cking terrain.”
After a few moments of peace, a loud thunk broke the silence and a quiet “f*ck” was muttered. They turned and laughs rang out at their team sniper, Chris Galloway, on his hands and knees, palms no doubt bleeding from the sharp rocks. He stood and dusted his hands on his Army issue fatigues.
“Go f*ck yourselves,” he said with a rueful grin.
“Christ. No talk about f*cking. I’m horny,” Kyle moaned.