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ChapterOne
BACK IN THE USA – Chuck Berry
Captain John Brysonwaited for the plane to stop taxiing on the runway at Pope Air Base at Fort Bragg. Home, sweet home, North Carolina. He stood and turned around to face the men on his Green Beret team. As was his ritual when they touched down on US soil, he played Chuck Berry’s version of “Back in the USA” and sang the first stanza loudly enough to be heard throughout the plane. The lyrics perfectly matched how good it felt to be home after an overseas deployment.
“I am not going to miss your singing,” his first lieutenant groused, shaking his head.
“Too bad. It’s a team tradition. Right, Top?” John looked to his first sergeant.
“Definitely. I’d miss it if you didn’t sing,” First Sergeant Rodriguez said. “Next deployment won’t be the same without you.”
“I wasborn in the USA,” John broke into song, worse than usual—on purpose. His six-foot-five stature typically gave him license to massacre the melody and lyrics without fear of reprisal, though his off-key singing could be why someone had put a toy snake in his bunk two months into their deployment. It’d looked real enough to fool him for nearly three seconds.
There was one more tradition John would introduce his new lieutenant to once his combat boots hit the tarmac. This had been a good deployment with zero casualties and only two minor injuries on his team.
Unlike the formal welcome home ceremonies given to traditional Army battalions, his operational detachment, or ODA, unit arrived without fanfare due to the classified nature of their missions. They’d be like roadies carrying their gear off the airfield to go home to their families.
“All right, let’s move. Let’s move,” he ordered. Mechanical problems had delayed their flight a few hours. Long enough to derail his plans to get home, surprise Britney, play with Boss, then don his dress uniform to accompany Britney to the charity gala and auction she’d spent months organizing. While he hadn’t communicated the date of their return with her due to operational security—something she hadn’t grasped the importance of and he’d have to explain again—he had kept abreast of the event via her social media accounts. Rather than let the delay tank his idea, he adapted his mission plan. He’d go straight there, in camouflage, and see his dog when they got home.
Maybe he’d find a trip he could bid on at the auction. Take Britney away for romance, rest, and relaxation and get things back on track since she had a rough introduction to life with—and without—a military man. He’d tried to prep her, but the separation was hard. He blamed the newness of their relationship. Next time he deployed, things would go smoother.
First, he needed to get his men off this plane and on their way.
“Don’t do anything stupid tonight,” he warned his team, “because Top and I have plans with our ladies. We’ll let your butt sit in jail overnight.”
“Amen to that,” Rodriguez concurred.
After spending six months in Chad, Africa, those with families would head straight home, but the prospect of catching a buzz and getting laid appealed to the single guys. John had headed to Jumpy’s Bar in the past. This time, he had someone waiting for him and damn, it felt good.
His men waited on the tarmac as he descended the steps last.
John took three steps, then dropped to his knees and kissed the nasty asphalt to the cheers of his team. He sang “American Soldier” as he slipped his rucksack onto his back and hefted the strap of his other bag over his shoulder. Rifle in hand, he continued singing as he strode through the lingering men.
When they reached the parking lot where their freshly washed vehicles waited, most of his team were already on their phones. Though operational security no longer applied with their safe return, he refrained from calling Britney. She would be busy putting finishing touches on tonight’s event. The reunion was going to rock. Hell, his surprise entrance might turn into one of those welcome home videos of soldiers that went viral.
ChapterTwo
FRIENDS IN LOW PLACES – Garth Brooks
An hourafter the event started, John parked his truck in the country club lot. His Ford F-250 stuck out amid all the luxury sedans and SUVs. As he mounted the smooth, marble steps between impressive white columns, he was a jumble of excitement and nerves, in a different way than going out on a dangerous mission. Instrumental music played. The soft chatter of voices was unlike anything he’d heard in the last six months.
“May I help you?” asked a woman in a chic black dress at the hostess stand. Her gaze roved over his uniform, down to his worn combat boots, wordlessly pointing out this was a classy affair.
“My girlfriend’s here for the gala and auction.”
“Do you have an invitation?”
“Not with me,” he fudged. “I just landed an hour ago. I’ve been deployed overseas for months, and our flight was delayed. Would you be willing to use my phone to film me surprising her?”
“Oh,” she sighed, smiling and bringing a hand to her heart. “That’s so sweet and romantic.”
They moved to the entrance of the huge ballroom. For a second, his breath stalled in his lungs. There had to be nearly three hundred people seated at round dinner tables. Others mingled and checked out auction items on the room’s perimeter tables. While there were probably a few executives with concealed carry permits and socialites packing pistols in purses, no one brandished AK-47s or rocket-propelled grenade launchers. It was nice to be on friendly soil.
With his height advantage, he scanned the guests until he finally picked out Britney in a group near the back wall.
“Follow me.” He set his phone to record a video and handed it to the hostess. “She’s the woman with long, dark hair in the red dress.” He started his stealthy approach, keeping out of Britney’s line of sight. As if on cue, the crowd parted and gave him a clear path.
Three more steps to reach the group and John had a clear view of her profile and the man at her side: her cheating ex-boyfriend, Richard James McCall, the third, or fourth, or maybe the fifth. His hand rested possessively on Britney’s hip.
