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A tank.
A gorilla.
A truck.
A bus.
He’d been called all those and more. Most people thought they were being complementary in a funny way. Whatever. It didn’t change anything. He was who he was. That was it. Now, he felt like he needed to be the label Grady provided. The beast who beats down doors.
Nice.
“Who told you that?” he shoved annoyance to the background. You can’t go through life carrying all that shit. That was the way he saw it. You get what has meaning from the days of your life, and you learn from the mistakes and hope you live long enough to take that final course in life and learn how to be genuinely happy.
He figured he had a long way to go on that path if he was ever going to even be granted the right to walk it. But that was in the “What if” file, and he didn’t spend a lot of time there. Gunner believed in seeing reality for what it is, and dealing with it as it came. Don’t borrow trouble, instigate or provoke.
But never, and that’s in all caps. NEVER back down, never surrender, if you know your cause is right and true.
That was the cornerstone of Gunner’s beliefs. He was, by nature, a non-confrontational man, whodiscovered he was particularly skilled at violence. His size made him formidable for more than ninety percent of the male population.
But his training and his mind made him dangerous. Most people were unaware that Gunner was more than just a strong man. He had a near photographic memory and a mind that operated at super speed, which was definitely a benefit in a combat situation and evaluating the options and chances of success.
Not that he complained. People who served with him knew his abilities. Those who didn't need to know as far as he was concerned. He turned his attention to the beautiful woman looking up at him as she replied. “You mean you didn’t pay Grady to say that?”
Everyone laughed, and Gunner felt the tension ease. He sure didn’t expect that response, but it definitely spiked his interest. He rarely met a woman who looked like Oakley and had a sense of humor. “Well color me shy, ma’am. How do you know Charli and Grady?”
“Charli and I worked together.”
He should have been surprised, but he wasn’t. “Where’re you stationed?”
“Previously the 75thRanger Regiment. Currently assigned to the 341st Training Squadron at Lackland.”
“K9 unit?”
“Yep.”
“You’re a handler?”
“Sort of.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning she’s in charge,” Charli answered, and when Gunner looked at her, she added. “Major Oakley Rising Wolf.”
What an intriguing name. He turned back to Oakley. “Major.” He nodded in respect. "Impressive. Do you still train?”
“Every day if possible.”
“And you left the Rangers for that?” He found that surprising. Walking away from that kind of life isn’t easy. Just look at his buddy, Riggs. He’d adapted to civilian life better than anyone Gunner had known, but having a prosthetic limb where he used to have a foot might have helped ease the way into a new mindset.
“Absolutely.” Her eyes never wavered from their lock with his.
“Can I ask why?”
“Let’s just say I like training powerful beasts.” Her smile let him know the comment was only part jest. “But enough about me. Are you still active?”
“Not at present. I’m trying out civilian life to see if it fits.”
“And?”
