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CHAPTERONE
Hawke
As a child, my father’s favorite saying was, ‘heroism isn’t something that only occurs during a moment of glory.’It was his impression of the Mary Roach quote, which, when summarized, means that heroism doesn’t necessarily only happen amid the course of glorified battles. It can also be determined by the smallest achievements or those with the biggest hearts.
Why did he refer to this with such passion, you ask?
Because my father was part of the anti-war movement back in the sixties, and he firmly believed that the efforts made by the anti-war enthusiasts were heroic. His opinion was that the US’ presence in Vietnam was far too costly from an economic and humane perspective. He would tell anyone who would listen how the money spent only fueled the violence and the devastation left in its wake.
My father and I had very differing opinions regarding the safety and security of our nation, which became overtly obvious when I joined the Marines. I agreed with my father when he drunkenly rambled that the Vietnamese were fighting a patriotic war because, in their eyes, that’s precisely what they were doing. They wanted to rid themselves of any foreign influences, and for the most part, I understood why, yet the US’ initial involvement was to only provide aid against the threat of the Viet Cong.
What I didn’t agree with was his support for the hippie movement. They may have supported the civil rights movement and the fight to end the Vietnam War, but that’s where their involvement ceased. Ever the free-loving kind of person, they chose peace over protest, which seemed pointless to a juvenile version of me. Why get involved in a fight if you are only going to stand on the fringe of the circle, watching?
I can vividly remember the last time I saw my father.
At the time, my buddy Antony Valentine and I had been stationed in Afghanistan, but my CO granted me leave because my father was on his deathbed. While I wore that uniform, my father refused to see me, so when I arrived at the hospital, he made the nurses turn me away. His opinion never swayed even as he was dying, and although I disagreed, I respected him for it. It wouldn’t be long after my father’s death that Antony and I put in for our discharge from the Marines and applied to the CIA instead.
Before retiring entirely from the CIA, which I can assure you was no easy feat, my judgment was impaired, much like many of my brothers in arms. We firmly believed heroism was deemed by the extremity of how we saved lives and the risks we exposed ourselves to.
Since retiring, I’ve had time to sit and watch, and I now understand how wrong my opinions on that subject have been. Since removing my rose-colored glasses, I now understand my father’s belief that heroism can be classified by multiple acts, both large and small.
I suppose you’re wondering why the sudden reflection and interest in heroism. That’s something I’ve also been pondering myself lately. Maybe it’s because I have Emily, Sumner, Tatum, and Abigail in my life. Whatever the reason, it’s made me more aware of my surroundings and the daily good deeds performed by strangers.
It’s been a remarkable sight to witness even the unlikeliest people stepping out of their comfort zone without considering their preservation to aid another. It’s the thoughtlessness behind that action when assisting another, which lately I have witnessed with more regularity and, as such, found to be heroic.
“What are you daydreaming about,mi oso … my bear?”
The sound of Emily’s soft voice dissolves my thoughts in an instant. Taking a seat across from me, she joins me at my table.
“Nothing important, my love,” I reply, granting her my undivided attention.
“I spoke with Sumner this morning,” she quickly counters, placing her handbag on the ground beside her. “Abi has been crawling around their apartment, pulling herself up on furniture, and Sumner wanted to share the news. She doesn’t believe it will be long before she starts walking.”
“Why didn’t she call me?” I snap.
“Because, my darling,” she starts, smiling as she leans across the table, gripping my hand in hers. “She knew you’d be on the first flight to Brooklyn.”
Relaxing, I place my other hand on top of Em’s. “That girl knows me all too well.” I grin.
Releasing my grip, I allow my woman to straighten and continue. “Sumner has videoed it and will text it to you later today.”
“I guess I can’t blame Sumner’s reaction,” I begrudgingly admit.
“Oh, honey,” Em coos. “When we decided against relocating to Brooklyn, you flew back every time that precious little girl hit a milestone, so you didn’t miss out.”
I know she is teasing me, but she is also correct at the same time. Emily was needed here, so we made the heartbreaking decision to stay in Virginia, but I flew to Brooklyn every chance I could because I hated being away from them.
“Now, who is being an ass?”
Laughing, Emily asks how my morning has been.
There is no way I can stay angry at the beauty across from me, and I swear she knows it, hence the distraction. Calling for the waiter, I allow her to order her soy latte before filling her in on the upcoming mission Jackson Cole wants me to head up.
In the lead-up to this mission, I only consulted for Cole Security. Over time, the not-so-subtle hints about needing a man of my expertise and the boredom retirement delivered eventually won me over. The temptation of going back out into the field became something I could no longer resist, so finally, I relented and agreed to join the team officially.
Recruiting me, though, has allowed Mark and Jackson access to a broader range of resources they previously could never tap into, increasing job opportunities. This mission resulted from a tip-off from the Alexandria Mafia Family in Brooklyn.
Initially, when I put in for semi-retirement from the CIA, I thought I could handle becoming a desk jockey like my comrade in arms, Antony Valentine, but it was nothing like I’d expected. I found I couldn’t sit around and watch as others were given field work because I wanted to be with them, so eventually, I put in for full retirement and left altogether.
