When the shock-and-awe arm of his approach resulted in the accidental deaths of several Iraqi civilians due to bad intelligence, Bones was dishonorably discharged. By then, war was everything he knew and the only thing he really wanted, so he headed back to Ohio and joined the baddest MC he could find. His skills as a tactician often offset Hunter's rage and bravado, and his reputation as a ruthless fighter allowed him to climb the ranks of his chosen army once more, this time earning him the patch of Sergeant-At-Arms.
And now it was time to go to war again, and Bones couldn't be happier.
He enjoyed being an Eagle, and he felt closer to this family of outlaws than he ever had with his platoons in the military. He liked the freedom of the biker lifestyle, and the brutal simplicity of the codes they lived by. But most of the biker life also involved sitting around drinking and carousing aimlessly, interrupted by the occasional dope deal or hijacking. Even the violence was often brief, and was usually confined to a messy brawl in a parking lot with chains and wrenches.
No, Bones missed real war, and the longing itched deep in his veins every day like a heroin craving. He missed strategies and missions, and the blasphemous thrill of mowing down hordes of enemy combatants with automatic weapons or blowing them to pieces with well-placed explosives.
Finally, with these Hernandez punks on the move, it seemed like Bones would get his wish. He knew the Eagles were outnumbered and outgunned, but that just made the prospect of war with them all the more enticing.
Fighting the insurgents in Mosul and Fallujah had taught Bones that having a worthy opponent only forces one to become the best version of oneself. These cartel members seemed like worthy opponents indeed. Bones had seen specials about them on TV, and he knew that many of them were ex-soldiers themselves.
Maybe this conflict will be good for the Eagles, Bones thought. It'll be bloody, certainly, and we may endure losses. But in the end, maybe it'll turn this sloppy band of gearheads and road-pirates into a disciplined cadre of soldiers.
The sun was gone now, and night was creeping in all around. Bones wistfully wished for the night-vision goggles he used to carry in the service, then thought about how that would look to passersby and chortled to himself.
Suddenly, he heard a rustling sound coming from a cluster of hedges neighboring Cain's house. He craned his neck to look, and saw a dark shape moving behind the thick branches.
I gotta admit, fellas, Bones thought as he stood up and drew his gun, I'm more than a little surprised you'd try the same thing twice in one day. Maybe you ain't quite as clever as I thought you'd be.
Bones leaned back and rapped his knuckles on the front window twice, keeping the gun pointed downward next to his leg. A moment later, Missy appeared in the window, opening it. “What's wrong?”
“Maybe nothing,” Bones said quietly, “but I saw something over by the hedge, so I'm going to check it out. Just keep your ears open and your guns close for the next minute or two, okay?”
“Sure,” said Missy. “Thanks.” She shut the window again.
Bones crept over to the hedge, thumbing the safety off on his pistol and wrapping his finger around the trigger. He peered into the depths of the bushes.
Something jumped out, and Bones raised his gun quicker than lightning.
A fat brown squirrel landed on the grass and looked up at him, twitching its nose.
Bones let out an uneasy laugh, tucking his gun away again. “Go bury your nuts someplace else, will ya? It ain't safe here.”
He walked back to the porch and rapped on the window again. When Missy came into the living room and slid the window open, he said, “False alarm. Sorry.”
“No problem,” she replied. “Thanks for checking it out.”
“It's what I'm here for,” Bones grinned, tipping his hat.
“Do you want a bowl of chili, or a beer or something? I mean, you're just sitting out there...”
“Nah, I'm fine,” Bones said. “If I've got my hand on a beer or a bowl, it'll make it harder to reach for my gun in a hurry if I need to. Thank you, though. Maybe put some aside for me to take home when Keith gets here, huh?”
“You got it,” Missy said, smiling. She slid the window shut again.
Bones was preparing to settle back into the chair again when he heard another rustling sound, this time behind the house. He started to reach for the window to tap on it, then thought better of it.
If I'm going to spook them every time a chipmunk crosses the yard, Bones thought, this is gonna be a long night for all of us.
He stepped off the porch and pulled out his gun again, keeping it low. He placed his feet in the grass carefully, making sure he made no noise at all. A light breeze drifted past and he sniffed the air out of habit, trying to detect the scent of unfamiliar cigarette smoke, cologne, or human sweat nearby—any sign that someone might be stalking the house. There was nothing but the faint aroma of chili from inside the house, and the flowers in the neighbor's garden.