Elite Metal-ARE-epub Read Free Page B

leave.”
    “Thanks.” He scratched at the goatee covering his chin then crossed his arms over his chest. “And as usual, I’ll stay right here.”
    “Please. Go to shore, Johnson. Take a day off. Take a week off. You’ve got enough vacation time. Go get laid or something.”
    If only the heat of a woman could ease the ache he carried in his chest. It had been too long since he found pleasure in having a woman pliant and submissive beneath him. After a while he found the effort he put into dominating a partner wasn’t even close to the payoff. It was then that he began to spend all of his time on the rig.
    “Don’t worry, boss, I’ll stay out of your…hair,” he said with a smirk. “You won’t even know I’m here.” At six foot five inches in height and two hundred and forty pound of muscle, he almost took up a quarter of the rig’s platform by himself.
    “Funny. Everyone thinks they’re a comedian.” He huffed and stomped toward the staircase as he muttered. “Bust a guy’s chops ‘cause he wants to look nice for his lady friend.”
    As the pong of his boss’ footsteps pounding down the stairs faded, Steele brought the lighter up and watched the little flame kiss the end of his Cuban.
    The one good thing about US opening up relations to Cuba, he could restock his stash. What cigars he’d been able to procure before he went underground was running low. He sucked in a long inhalation and enjoyed the burn of smoke killing the capillaries in his lungs as the sound of Zinc’s voice reverberated in his head.
    “Those things will kill ya,” Zinc used to say.
    Yep. If he was lucky.
    The ocean breeze swept the cigar smoke away faster than he could produce it while flecks of ash stung his eyes. He leaned his forearms against the railing of the deck to stare down into the depths of the Pacific Ocean. Gritting his teeth, he watched the splash of sea lions in the distance as the weight of the dog tags around his neck pushed the fabric of his t-shirt away from his chest.
    They didn’t belong to him. Zinc’s dog tags should have gone to his fiancée, but the moment the bedraggled remains of their team returned stateside, the government forced them underground. It was a shit deal after almost twenty years of service to the Corps, God and Country, but he wasn’t that surprised. Not really. The elite recon teams were so secret, they had always worked with the understanding that if they were caught with their asses hanging out, they were going to get fucked. And they got fucked. Hard. And without any lube.
    Of the fifteen Marines who’d left on that mission, only six survived. Six.
    All of Titanium’s were lost, half of Chrome’s. Zinc.
    Dead. All the rest dead.
    As soon as word of what happened got to the rest of his team, they immediately flew back to base. They were all brought to where Steele and the rest were being debriefed.
    Routine he’d thought.
    Only when his superiors denied him the opportunity to attend Zinc’s funeral had reality hit him like a sledgehammer to the gut. His friend was dead.
    But the teams had been disavowed. They were all dead, all eighteen members of Elite Recon.
    According to the US Marine Corps, all members of the three teams had been killed doing training exercises in the Baltic Sea. Except some of those caskets returned to the families at home had been empty.
    But not Zinc’s. And not Uranium’s, or Tungsten’s, or Titanium and all of his fucking team. Those men and one woman had been returned to the earth with a twenty-one-gun salute while the rest had been scattered to the wind, just like the ashes from his cigar.
    Most of their bodies weren’t recoverable from Russia. Another explosion had knocked Steele out as he tried to protect Zinc and he didn’t remember anything else until he woke on a chopper flown by Mercury.
    He hadn’t even been able to say goodbye—to any of them.
    After they got home they wouldn’t even let him get Titanium’s dog, a golden retriever.