“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 asshole 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, asshole,” Ryan muttered. “Why don’t you quit eyeballing my ass and keep your mind to the fucking terrain.”
After a few moments of peace, a loud thunk broke the silence and a quiet “fuck” 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 fuck yourselves,” he said with a rueful grin.
“Christ. No talk about fucking. I’m horny,” Kyle moaned.
“You’re a sick bastard, Brooks,” Jake told Kyle.
Kyle grinned and grabbed his crotch. “No sicker than you.”
Ryan tuned them out for a while, concentrating on keeping his feet moving, until Jake’s voice filled the silence again. “Gonna Skype Fin when we get back. You should say hello to her, Kendall. You never do.”
The old familiar ache at the mention of Jake’s sister taunted him, and he shoved it away. “Why the fuck would I want to do that? You Skype enough for all of us combined...” he shook his head “...chattering like a fucking girl.”
Ryan had no intention of talking to Finlay Tanner, and he was desperate to keep it that way. Six impossibly long years had passed since he walked out of her life. Despite not having seen her since, Ryan thought of her constantly, the ache of missing her hurting a little more each day. The never ending loneliness he felt had been his choice, and he forced himself to live with it. Being a soldier like his grandfather had been Ryan’s dream for as long as he could remember. Like blinking or breathing, it was just there, living inside him, giving his body a reason to function. He couldn’t let anything stand in the way of it. Yet Fin almost had, without him even realising it until it was almost too late.
Jake interrupted his thoughts. “Too bad. I’ll drag you there if I have to. Maybe Fin might be able to get a smile out of you, considering my jokes are wasted on your sorry ass.”
“I can smile.” Ryan turned and bared his teeth, locking his thoughts of Fin into the box of precious memories tucked inside him—an almost impossible feat with Jake being her older brother. They looked so much alike, down to sharing the same cheeky sparkle of life in their matching green eyes. “Besides, I told you to quit eyeballing my ass. Next thing you’ll be getting a boner over it.”
“Fuck. I’m trying to get you to smile, not get all impressed over my monster dick.”
“Jesus, your sister is fucking hot. I’d do more than Skype her,” Kyle called out from the back of the pack with a grin.
Ryan opened his mouth, ready to tell Kyle to keep his hands to himself, but Jake beat him to it.
“Fuck you, Brooks,” Jake called back. “My sister is too smart for your fat, ugly ass, and if you ever got anywhere near her, I’d chop your tiny fucking dick off.”
Kyle Brooks, made up of nothing but rock solid muscle, laughed. “Tiny? You’d need a magnifying glass to see yours. And I wish it was fucking.”
“Keep it in your pants,” Connor, the final member of their six man team, told him. Connor was their patrol signaller and went by “Tex” to the troops because he’d been born in Texas. Tex had moved to Australia when he was five to live with his aunt and uncle after his parents, both Australian expats, died in a car accident.
Eventually they reached their extraction point, and hearing the woomph, woomph, woomph of the Black Hawk helicopter, Ryan set off a small smoke grenade to reveal their position.
Once inside the big camouflaged beast, the chopper lifted off and he held on, his stomach lurching as they launched hard right into the sky. The wind fluttered his short, dark hair, and he lifted his head, revelling in the rush of the ride.
On their way back to base, Ryan’s thoughts once again returned to Fin and the day he’d met her.
He’d been ten years old and even at that age his dream of being a soldier had already taken hold. Life at home was a nightmare he couldn’t wait to escape from. His parents fought constantly, and he was always getting caught in the crossfire. His dad was an asshole and a drunk. Most kids his age got grounded, but Ryan wasn’t that lucky. He got the belt, and if his dad was drunk enough, he got a fist. He did his best to hide it—the bruising, the fractures, and the painful welts—because he had a plan. He was going to get out and see places. He would become someone that would make a difference. At school he’d been popular, excelling at sports and grades. None of it came easy. Ryan wanted to close himself off from the world, yet he persevered, working hard at all of it, slowly building his escape.