Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Mason

What's the first thing I'm doing after recovering from a near-death experience?

I'm in the Amazon rainforest, rescuing some stupid wealthy children who thought vacationing in the tropics was brilliant.

This might be what kills me. The oppressive humidity of the tropical forest is worse than a sauna. A swarm of mosquitoes buzz around. They search for some fresh blood to suck. I wipe the dampness from my forehead with the back of my hand. My entire body drips with sweat.

We shelter behind a kapok tree, waiting for the go-ahead from Hawk so we can run to the helicopter. The silence of the jungle is broken by a series of rapid-fire explosions echoing through the air.

"Fuck, Hawk," I whisper through the communicator. "What happened?"

"We're going to die." The girl directly behind me shrills, deafening me for a few seconds.

I let out a heavy sigh, exasperated with these children.

Rescuing this group of college kids is more complicated than herding a pack of hungry lions.

"If I don't make it"—another girl sniffs— "tell my mother that I love her."

Her loud sobs could wake up the dead. What happened to "don't say a fucking word, or we all die?" I should've threatened to shoot them if they said a peep during the operation.

The three remain behind me: two females and a male in their early twenties. The guy shivers and jolts with every cracking and booming sound. He's about to pee his pants.

I don't blame him. If I were him, I'd be just as afraid. He's lost in the middle of the jungle close to the headquarters of a drug cartel that's armed better than the Pentagon. Next time, they should follow the directions of the leader and stay close to their group—or spend their vacations in Hawaii.

"Any time now," I murmur through the communicator.

I put all my faith in the prototype armor I wear, my team, and the AK-47 I hold.

"This isn't easy, Bradley." Hawk's voice comes across with another round of shots. "When I tell you to run, run with everything you have—do it and shoot anyone you see."

"Why? Can't you get rid of them?"

"Nope. They continue to pop up out of nowhere like weeds in the middle of summer rain."

"They don't pay me enough for this," I groan.

"Dude, you only have to run and keep those kids alive."

I grumble as I adjust my night vision goggles and rearrange them to the thermo-kinetic mode. It's another prototype that should help me detect bodies, even when they hide behind trees.

"How many?" I scratch my head.

"We've counted ten from where you are to the chopper so far."

I turn around and check on Tiago. He's another one of my guys and the one covering behind me. He tilts his head, giving me an "I'm ready" signal.

Think of this as a live video game, Bradley. Call of Duty.

This is for the greater good, I tell myself. That's what helps me sleep at night. I rise up and signal the others to follow my lead. Holding up my hand, I count down with my fingers. As I close my fist, we rush from one tree to another. One of the girls follows too close to me, but I let her. That's better than having her scream like an idiot, drawing attention to us.

"One at two o'clock," I call as I jog to the next tree, firearm lifted and ready to shoot.

Ratatatat-ratatatat. Game mode.

One bullet hits a guy on the shoulder, the other to his hip. Down he goes. All hell breaks loose.

The girls scream, and the guy behind them shrieks like a little girl, drawing more attention.

Wehurry toward the helicopter that is less than a mile away from where we stand. The girl who has been clinging to my leg loses her footing. I catch her by the waist and now I have to thank my father for teaching me to shoot with one hand while having the other tied to my back. As we reach the helicopter that is ready to takeoff, Hawk grabs the girl I'm holding while I continue shooting.

"Motherfucker," I hear Winston say as he climbs into the aircraft.

"Everything is ready," Hawk announces. "Jump in. I'm covering you guys."

I board the transport while watching my own back. It's not about trust, but twenty-plus bodies are running toward us. The door remains open as I continue spilling bullets along with Winston and Hawk. My goggles zoom in on the guy who's kneeling and setting an enormous cylinder on top of his left shoulder.

"Shit, shit," I yell. "They have an RPG-7."

A good leader knows when to delegate, and this shit was no longer something I could control. Harrison, our pilot, starts shutting the door as I pull in my legs and roll inside. He's good at this flying thing and should be able to outmaneuver whatever long-range weapons those assholes have. Harrison is the man to trust in the air.

My body rolls toward one of the doors and then to the seat. Everyone is quiet as we hear the bullets showering the outside of the helicopter. No one has complained about the jolts, and I doubt anyone will give him shit about the crazy movements he is making at the moment. I regret not taking a seat and buckling up as I'm shifting from one side to the other while he maneuvers us out of here.

Once I'm seated, I toss my head back, resting it on the seat, when my phone buzzes. Finally, some sign of civilization. I also turn on my standard phone, hoping to get a signal soon. The first thing that appears is a picture of a kitten saying, are you okay?

"Who is that Nine person?" Hawk stares at my phone.

"She's one of the prettiest, sweetest girls you'll ever meet."

Without hesitation, I pull one of the last pictures I took of Ainse. Her curly hair was pulled into some weird hairdo. In the photo, I can't see her bright-green eyes, but I can imagine them. All filled with sparkles when she smiles.

"And she plays the piano, I see."

I took this candid picture of Ainse playing the piano after watching the perfect sunrise—that's what she told me. Then she ran into the room to use her father's piano, pulled out some paper and a pencil, and began to play. For an hour, the stroke of the piano keys and the pen dancing across the paper were the only things that existed.

I watched her as that mind of hers created something soothing, sweet, and beautiful—like her. That memory transports me to our kiss.

Her taste.

A taste that consumed me and still lingers around when I dream of her—every night.

God, she tasted sweeter than I thought.

One more bite.

I miss her.

I want her so much.

I miss the fire that burned between us for just that one consuming moment.

She was the only thing I could think of when I was fighting for my life. I needed her. No, I still need her, but I know I can't have her.

But could I get one more kiss?

"Finally home." Hawk plops himself on the chair in front of my desk.

We just arrived from dropping off the most irresponsible people in the world. It was the most ridiculous welcome home I've ever seen. Their parents received them with open arms as if they were war heroes.

My team and I remained quiet as they bustled over them. I had the urge to tell them they were a bunch of harebrained nitwits.

"What are we doing after this? You've been taking a long vacation," Hawk says.

I glance over at him and shrug. "It's complicated," I say. "Mom wants me to visit her. You guys have to bring me up to date, and then, I might decide my next mission."

"Are you sure you're one hundred percent okay?"

"Didn't you see me running?"

He smirks. "Like a gazelle escaping from his predator."

I show him the finger. "Fuck off."

"We almost lost you," he reminds me.

"It comes with the territory. I guess the armor isn't ready just yet, is it?"

"Three bullets—internal bleeding. Five broken ribs, a broken arm, and a femur… I wouldn't blame the armor"—he shrugs— "but who am I to contradict the boss?"

I make a noncommittal sound and start my computer.

"You should find yourself a hobby and learn to delegate, Bradley." I look up and find Hawk standing close to the door. "Staying a few weeks in the same place isn't a crime or a punishment. It might be good for your health. Think about getting a girl, too. Nine is pretty."

No, not pretty—stunning, I want to correct him. But what can I give her?

Ainse needs dates, cuddling, an entire lifetime with a guy who'll treat her right. We Bradleys don't have much to offer.