Vinny: Alvarez Security Series
Alvarez Security Series
By
Maryann Jordan
Vinny (Alvarez Security Series)
Copyright © 2015 Maryann Jordan
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, then you are reading an illegal pirated copy. If you would be concerned about working for no pay, then please respect the author’s work! Make sure that you are only reading a copy that has been officially released by the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design by: Andrea Michelle, Artistry in Design
Editor: Shannon Brandee Eversoll
Format: Paul Salvette, BB eBooks
ISBN: 978-0-9864004-6-9
First and foremost, I have to thank my husband, Michael. Always believing in me and wanting me to pursue my dreams, none of my books would not be possible without his support. To my daughters, MaryBeth and Nicole, I taught you to follow your dreams and now it is time for me to take my own advice. You two are my inspiration.
My best friend, Tammie, who for twenty years has been with me through thick and thin. You’ve filled the role of confidant, supporter, and sister. You always believed that I could accomplish whatever I dreamed.
My dear friend, Myckel Anne, who keeps me on track, keeps me grounded, and most of all – keeps my secrets. Thank you for not only being my proofreader, but my friend. Our friendship has grown and changed and you mean more to me than you can imagine. And yes, my cat is huge!
Going from blogger to author has allowed me to have the friendships and advice of several wonderful authors who always answered my questions, helped me over rough spots, and cheered me on. To Kristine Raymond, you gave me the green light when I wondered if I was crazy and you never let me give up. MJ Nightingale and Andrea Michelle – you two have made a huge impact on my life. Anna Mychals, EJ Shorthall, Victoria Brock, Jen Andrews, Andrea Long, A.d. Ellis, ML Steinbrunn, Sandra Love, thank you from the bottom of my heart. Susan Stoker and Laramie Briscoe – thank you for always answering my questions and giving me the benefit of your experience and friendship.
My beta readers kept me sane, cheered me on, found all my silly errors, and often helped me understand my characters through their eyes. A huge thank you to Denise VanPlew, Sandi Laubhan, Barbara Martoncik, Jennifer Alumbaugh, Anna Mychals, Danielle Petersen, Shannon Brandee, Stracey Charran, Leeann Wright, Lynn Smith, Kelly Williams and Tracey Markin for being my beta girls who love alphas!
Shannon Brandee Eversoll has been my editor for the past seven books and what she brings to my writing has been amazing. She has gone from editor to friend – a transition that I love! She and Myckel Anne Phillips as my proofreader gave their time and talents to making Vinny as well written as it can be. Both encourage me to stretch and work harder to bring my stories alive!
My street team, Jordan Jewels, you are amazing! You volunteer your time to promote my books and I cannot thank you enough! I hope you will stay with me, because I have lots more stories inside, just waiting to be written!
My Personal Assistant, Barbara Martoncik, is the woman that keeps me going when I feel overwhelmed and I am so grateful for not only her assistance, but her friendship.
The cover was created by my dear friend, Andrea Michelle with Artistry in Design, and her talent is evident in every detail. Thank you for working with me, planning with me, laughing with me, and understanding me.
As the owner of the blog, Lost in Romance Books, I know the selflessness of bloggers. We promote indie authors on our own time because we believe fully in the indie author community. I want to thank the many bloggers that I have served with, and who are assisting in promoting my series.
Most importantly, thank you readers. You allow me into your life for a few hours as you disappear into my characters and you support me as I follow my indie author dreams.
If you read my books and enjoy them, please leave a review on Amazon. It does not have to be long or detailed…just that you enjoyed the book. Reviews are essential to indie authors!
My mother made sure that my brother and I learned how to play the piano and other instruments. She had never had that training, but it was essential to her that we knew how to play classical music. My piano teacher, Mrs. George, was a believer in learning classical music. She used to say, “If you can play the classics, you can play anything.” My elementary school music teacher, Miss Ruth, also spent years dedicating her life to helping children understand the importance of music in our lives.
My brother went on to become a trumpet performer and I played the flute in my younger years. My daughters also learned the piano, flute, clarinet, and took voice lessons. While those days are long gone, the appreciation for music has continued through the years.
So I dedicate this to Mrs. George and Miss Ruth, for their tireless efforts in teaching young people. I also dedicate this my mother, the first person in my life to show me that music can uplift, speak to our souls, bring us joy and heal our sorrows.
Prologue
T
he mission had
the squad of Special Forces men crouched behind a rock, watching the village below. Like other Nuristan villages, where many of the men had been killed, they could see a preponderance of women. The sun was setting behind the mountains casting shadows on the scene in front of them.
The twelve men of the squad were tired, angry—some with minor injuries. The mission was partially successful, but it was not without cost. They accomplished the first part of the job, but it turned deadly when the man they had been sent to rescue decided at the last minute to try to assault one of his sleeping captors, making their presence known. Trained to do whatever it took to make the mission successful, the twelve men worked as a complete team to get their target out of captivity, but now were traveling through a threatening area to their safe rendezvous, with the enemy behind.
Moving off of the beaten path, they came across a group of women in a rocky field. In this country, where women were afforded little rights, they often turned to agriculture to feed their families.
How they eked a living from the craggy mountainsides, Vinny Malloy could not imagine as he shifted ever so slightly to keep an eye on the villagers below. He did not need to shift his gaze to know exactly where the rest of the squad was. Several years of training to be the best the Army had to offer, this squad was more in tune with each other than any he had served with.
His twin brother, Gabe, was about ten yards to his right. Gabe and he were both Medics, but Vinny was also the Weapons Sergeant and undeniably the best marksman and long-range shooter. Captain Tony Alvarez, the leader of the squad, was about fifteen feet to the left and Vinny knew that Tony’s eagle-eyes were trained on the activity in the village.
Chief Warrant Officer Bryant and the Engineer Sergeant moved behind several outcroppings of rocks to check their location. Jobe, another Weapons Sergeant, watched their rescue mission settle among the rough terrain and fall asleep.
Just a few more minutes
, Vinny thought and they could continue toward the rendezvous. Trained not to feel fatigue, he nonetheless felt the slight drain of energy after the adrenaline of the fight. Suddenly, the sound of music reached his ears, jerking his gaze back to the women entering the village. The soft, lilting sound of the Afghan song rang through the night, sounding as foreign as the land around him.
Women rarely sing, at least not in public.
A few of the women were playing jaw harps, the unusual twang adding a layer of harmony to the song. Then the sound of a crude lyre sounded in the night.
As different as the music was to his ears trained to heavy metal bands, he found it soothing. Comforting. As though in the middle of a war zone, something could be as normal as a woman singing. Her tune was unfamiliar, but the universality of music calmed his soul. Taking a deep breath, he listened as the sound carried across the evening sky.
Glancing to the side at Gabe, he noticed that his twin was listening too. They shared the same love of music. To his Special Forces squad and to his friends back home in Virginia, he was a hard rock lover. But their mother had sung Irish lullabies to them as children. As they had gotten older they sometimes complained about her singing all of the time.
“
Bocht an fear bhíos gan cheol
,” she used to say, quoting an old Celtic phrase.
Poor is the man that’s without music.
He suddenly realized that as soon as this mission was over, he needed to call home. His mom deserved that from both of her sons.
CWO Bryant quickly signaled Tony. With a few short words, he alerted their Captain that the enemy soldiers that had been following them were coming from the road, straight for the village below them. The women singing as they came from the fields were in danger and had no idea. All eyes jerked quickly to Tony, who gave an imperceptible shake of his head.
They were to stay hidden, keeping the mission safe. All of them followed orders. Never wavering. Never questioning. The sounds of music were abruptly halted, giving way to tortured wailing before the Afghanistan men could be seen continuing down the road.
Tony jerked his head forward in silent communication. Vinny and Jobe headed down toward the village, steathily moving until they were just outside the largest building. With Jobe standing guard, Vinny leaned around the corner. The crying women surrounded another woman lying on the ground. She was covered in blood and he could see the lyre lying next to her on the ground. The harp was broken…and bloody.
Slipping back into the night, they reported what they had found to Tony whose jaw was tight with anger. The Communications Sergeant signaled that their transport was near so they began to move back through the rough terrain to the rendezvous. Jobe rousted the sleeping mission, hustling him on his way.
The silence of the night was punctuated only by the slight noise their booted footsteps made. Vinny focused on the task at hand—nothing else. Nothing else mattered but securing the mission. They met at the rendezvous and quickly helicoptered back to their base.
After the normal post-mission debriefing, the group headed to the showers. Vinny hung back after the others, not able to celebrate the success as easily as he normally would have. Gabe came back into the room, clad in only briefs, as he walked over to his locker. Pulling out clean sweats and a gray t-shirt, he looked over at his twin.
“You okay, bro?” Gabe asked.
Vinny sat silent for a moment, knowing that Gabe would wait patiently until he was ready to talk. Finally shaking his head, not able to get the vision out of his mind, he said, “Fuckin’ music.”
Gabe said nothing, waiting.
“I listen to music all the time. I like it loud, hard, fast, and rockin’.” Rubbing his hand over his face, he added ruefully, “Kind of like how I like to fuck.”
Gabe chuckled, settling his large frame on the bed across from Vinny. “Nothing wrong with that.”
“Yeah, I know. I just realized that most of what I listen to I like because it’s hard and fast. Don’t really feel anything other than getting pumped up.” He lifted his gaze to Gabe’s. “Remember mom singing?”
Nodding slowly, Gabe said, “Sure. Every night, those Irish songs sent us to sleep. First as little kids and then, hell…she would sing them in the other room when we got older. Used to drive us fuckin’ nuts.” Another silent moment passed before Gabe inquired, “What’s got you thinking about mom and her singing?”