Groomless - Part 1 (20 page)
“You really don’t believe in this romantic stuff?”
“Nah. That only happens in movies. Fairytale endings are called that for a reason. They just aren’t realistic. Hell, girl, I’m living proof. I’m thirty-one, and I’ve been down the aisle three times and to divorce court twice.” She sighed. “Why? You don’t believe in that mushy-gushy kind of stuff, do you?”
The handsome stranger’s face flashed across my mind. “I didn’t…until today.”
“Ah. So that movie got to you last night, huh?”
“Something like that.”
End of Sample
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The Edge of Tomorrow
Part 1
By
Sierra Rose
Copyright © 2015 by Sierra Rose
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Prologue
The wind howled its fury all around us. The angry sea pounded our bodies, threatening our ability to take a breath between one raging wave and the next. We had planned it perfectly, with no moon to announce our arrival on the beach.
There were only three of us on the mission, but we were Navy Seals—it wouldn’t take more. We were expected to brave the elements, to battle the rebels, to live on the edge of humanity. Not one man on my team rode that edge tighter than me, and this night was no exception. I had come by the nickname “Edge” honestly, with few willing to hold their position or take the insane chances I was known for during a rescue that usually took its toll on the best of the best.
Even I have my limits.
I turned my head to see if all three of us had made it to shore. It was no small relief to see Carl and his dog Colt pulling themselves up on the beach due east of me.
Dammit, where was Sam? I scanned further down the beach but could see little through the velvety darkness. Even with night goggles, my vision was quite impaired. The shores could be treacherous, with nowhere to hide on the barren desert beach that hugged the receding mountains of Yemen. We were all sitting ducks and we knew it, and what was worse so would the pirates if they caught a glimpse of us.
The only salvation for Carl, Sam, Colt, and I was to hope that this band of marauders were too drunk or too high to realize we had arrived. Even through the storm and swooshing waves we could hear the men hooting and hollering as they celebrated around their campfire. I was used to these murderous celebrations of lost lives and stolen treasure.
We’ll make sure they suffer for what they’ve done—for their stupidity and hatred.
After dozens of these types of missions, I had grown uncomfortably similar to the enemy, filled with the same hopelessness.
I’m getting paid well, though, for this sorry ass life. That’s what I’d tell myself when guilt rose up like bile in my throat and threatened to allow my emotions to surface.
This was to be my last mission. At thirty-three years old, I was too old to continue these raids and too young to sit behind a desk. The Navy had sucked me dry, both emotionally and physically. All I wanted was a small house in any town USA to raise my dogs and live in relative peace, if there was such a thing. The more random shots I heard from the rebel’s camp, the more I questioned my ability to ever live peacefully again.
I know too much. I’ve seen too many things. There’s no going back to those innocent days when I dreamed of being a hero. In place of a hero, I had become a mercenary for my own country. I was a paid gunner, addicted to action and suspense.
Who was worse, those celebrating their own depravity or me in all my tainted denial?
I shook myself back to reality and tuned my ears back to the commotion coming from the camp. They were still celebrating; confident their booty would bring high dollars on the black market. If they were like the others we had come across, they had probably spent three quarters of their loot on drugs. Life to them was one raid after another, with hopes of capturing the most valued cargo of all—women. They appeared to be over the top with their success at capturing two female hostages, and it didn’t hurt that the hostages were young and beautiful. They would bring a healthy sum when sold to their favorite slave trader, not to mention how delectable it would be to sample the goods before the sale.
It probably wasn’t the kindest thing to save the women. Like almost all the others, they would be traumatized and used. Life as they knew it was over. We’d have to tell them that their husbands had been tortured and their sons killed or traded as well. Many of the women who had suffered similar fates were known to commit suicide or depend on other devices to dull their memories of life before being captured. It was a life they would never again experience, and their promised fairytale existence had all been a cruel joke.
Suddenly, I alerted to danger that pulled me out of my morbid thoughts. I bird-called for Sam, and to my relief he responded. I could barely make out the shadowy figures of Carl and Colt as they took cover behind a sandy dune to await further instruction. I sighed my relief, but it was a moment too soon. The guard fired his AK-47, skipping bullets across the tops of the dunes and into Carl’s head. Colt tried to take the shot, but for the first time ever he was one second late. That second had cost Carl dearly.
Sweat dripped down the side of my face as my goggles fogged over. I could barely distinguish between the guard and the guard dog, but I threw my knife anyway in hopes it would reach its target. Success! My dagger buried itself in the guard’s chest, and Colt buried his teeth in the rebel’s leg, pulling him away from his slain master. I rushed to Carl’s side, already knowing he was dead, but refusing to accept the outcome.
I wanted to scream my rage, to cry out a killing yelp and take the scalp of the rebel. I think the natives had it right—like stealing the very soul of your enemy.
“Okay Edge, suck it up. Come on Colt, time to do some damage.” This time I spoke my thoughts out loud. The words offered courage and strength to every fiber of my being, but for some reason everything seemed to be moving in slow motion.
There was no time to linger, so I forced one foot in front of the other, but my body wouldn’t respond. I kept trying to reason through the chaos, but nothing made sense. I experienced the same old familiar feelings that I knew far too well, but I couldn’t quite fathom why I actually knew what would happen next.
I called Colt, and together we slowly zigzagged to Sam, quickly devising an alternate plan. As the rest of the pirates came looking with their torches, Colt circled around to distract them. It worked! Sam and I slunk around several low bushes in the opposite direction and carefully made our way to their camp. There were a few men hanging around their expressions giving me clear acknowledgment that they had been alerted by all the fireworks. The two battered women were tethered to a stake, hunkered down to cover their exposed nakedness.
Strangely enough, there was no need to further assess the situation; I sensed what would happen next. I watched with distant interest as Sam hand-signaled that he was going in. I disagreed. He insisted, and this time didn’t wait for my response. Sam silently took out the single man beside them and huddled behind the women to cut their ties.
Almost home Sam—we’re almost home! Hang on girls, just a few more minutes and it’ll be a day at the beach.
Lies—all lies! My neck hairs stood up before I even saw the man fire. He shot Sam in the leg, and Sam and I both returned the favor. I prayed that would be the last one and we could get the hell out of there. The women began unbinding themselves, giving me time to run for Sam. I dragged him to the side of the hut, the air suddenly so hard to breathe. Just as I turned, I knew what my instincts had been telling me all along. This was going to be a failed mission. First Carl, then Sam, now me! Colt showed up in time to get a piece of the action, but not before the pirate released a round that blew both female hostages apart.
In a split second all was lost.
Sam, we’ve got to get out of here, now! As I looked up and began shaking him awake, there sat Sam with his throat cut ear to ear. Colt flew through the air, slamming the attacker to the ground. This time it was my turn to defend Colt. I stabbed the attacker right through the ear, watching his life’s blood ooze from his eyes. His face wore a permanent expression of death acknowledged.
It was too late for us to run, so Colt and I hid beneath some blankets in the band’s hut. A deafening silence lifted between us as we huddled together in hopes that we could escape our fate. I was never so thankful for the howling winds and miserable rain that rose above our labored breathing.
No sooner had the band of murderers returned then they were gone again in pursuit of their intruders. They didn’t have enough good sense between them to consider the chances of us still being in their camp. They were in a rage, hungry for the kill, eager to avenge their friends. Again, that eerie silence accompanied by an inner knowingness.
It was as if I was the audience of an action film being directed by myself. For some odd reason, an incredible calm came over me. Colt seemed to feel it too. We weren’t really running, this was only a temporary retreat. We snuck through the slight undergrowth like thieves in the night, returning to the beach for our exit rendezvous. The men were waiting for Colt and I, but this time we welcomed the company. There’s nothing like another Navy Seal to empower and encourage when there seems to be no way out.
The first I knew of my injuries was when I was snatched from the grasp of a clawing wave to be pulled into the boat. My cheek was torn open to expose the bone, but the wound wasn’t near as deep as the one I felt at losing Carl. I reached over to give Colt a hug, thankful that he was safe as well.
Carl would have appreciated the fact that Colt had made it out, that he did his job with such determination and precision.
“Yep, Carl would have been glad about that.”
“Pardon sir? What was that you said?”
“Nothing. Didn’t know I was talking out loud.” I was glad for the rain that rolled down my cheeks to cover my emotions. I didn’t want anyone to see me as anything less than hard and efficient. A wall that couldn’t be torn down, a fortress that would never fail.
Nobody would know I had left a piece of myself on that beach tonight.
Nobody. Nobody.