“What’s this about speaking your truth?” Boomer asked as he plopped down on the other side of Preacher. His gaze followed over to GQ. “Aw, the golden boy butt-hurt about being idolized by females everywhere. Boohoo.”
“Everyone has their cross to bear,” Preacher said. “Sometimes being beautiful isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Like I said, speak your own truth.”
“Or what? Karma will bite me in the ass?” Boomer said.
“Karma is a bitch?” Skull said, his eyes rich with humor
“Do you even know what karma is, Boomer?” Kodiak asked.
“Yeah, play nice or you’ll get yours in the end.”
“That’s right, crude, but right.”
“Hey, I know something about your Holy Cow ways.”
Kodiak chuckled. “Are you talking about Hinduism?”
“Right. Aren't you part Indian? Don’t you guys worship cows or something?”
“That would be my grandparents. They settled in Alaska way back. Now, I’m a Christian guy. My Eskimo/Indian family blended, and my beliefs morphed. Doesn’t mean I wasn’t schooled in the way of Hinduism, and I do really love some of the concepts, but I worship just one God.”
“I get that,” Preacher said, amused by the interest and respect from the guys on the team. “My ancestors are Japanese and there are some things I love about the East. Stuff that resonates with me, like martial arts. What’s it for you, Kodiak?”
“Yoga,” he said. “It keeps me limber.”
“For the ladies?” Hazard asked.
“You know it,” Kodiak said, fist-bumping his brother. Hazard laughed.
“I thought Eskimo was a nonPC word now.” Boomer asked and every head in the plane turned to look at him. “Hey, I’m not totally clueless,” he said.
“No, that’s what my Sun’aq tribe prefers to be called and most native Alaskans. We’re not really Inuit, but I’m considered an Alaska Native by the US Government. That’s what’s on my official record anyway.”
“It’s all way cool,” Skull said with a hint of a smile. “My ancestors were conquistadors. I’ve got the blood of explorers in my veins.”
“You’ve got your pike ready to go, man?”
Skull hefted his junk and said, “Always locked and ready.”
Preacher laughed with the others as he rose from his seat and went for his gear. He pulled out his hammock and started to string it up. It was a nineteen-hour trip from Virginia Beach, and he was going to spend at least eight of those hours sleeping.
All the joking aside, he was still celibate, still abstaining from sex. It hadn’t brought him any closer to understanding his issues and was getting harder and harder to maintain the mindset.
From the moment he’d met the woman, he had a different kind of balance issue. Frustration bordering on anger churned in his gut. Before he could even practice any type of thought process to focus on keeping his equilibrium, he was hard and fully aroused. He slipped into the hammock, closing his eyes, trying to regulate his breathing using the SEALs special method. He tried like hell to shut down, but old feelings kept rising up, making his pulse run thick and heavy. He clenched his hands into fists, gritting his teeth against another pulsating rush. He had to accept that he didn’t want to beat this thing with her.
He knew himself. If he’d been dedicated to remaining celibate, he would have put her out of his mind as easily as he put out other women. Karasu wasn’t any other woman, and he’d be better off admitting that to himself right now. With Karasu, he didn’t give a shit about his vow and staying clear of her…well, he couldn’t…or didn’t want to.
He wasn’t sure what he was feeling, and that was the problem in more ways than with Karasu. Shutting down his emotions as he had his sex drive maybe wasn’t the way to go, but he was at a loss after that Bosnia goatfuck.
Which again was part of the problem.
Here he was heading back there, his gut clenching and his senses tangling. Not good for a mission. He’d be fucked if he told his boss anything about this. He’d be not only off the mission, but maybe even grounded.
That he couldn’t handle. He needed the team.
So, he had to find a way to get his head into the game and keep it there, no matter how many unpleasant memories surfaced while he was in Banja Luka.
Eight hours later, he woke up and the guys were playing poker, so he joined in, and they passed the time cleaning each other out and trash-talking. GQ was back to his old self, or it looked like he was, but Preacher knew how much stuff SEALs concealed below the surface, so he kept wondering about GQ.
By the time they landed at the Banja Luka airport, connected with the reps for the Air Force and Air Defense Brigade, 1st Helicopter Squadron, and were shown to their temporary barracks, twenty-five hours had passed, nineteen to physically fly to the city, and another six since Banja Luka was six hours ahead of Virginia Beach. They showered, changed, got grub, then hit the rack again.
When they rose the next morning, it was onto the embassy to meet with the representatives who would be supporting the effort to retrieve the hostages from Novak Jovanovic who was proving to be as brutal and egotistical as his predecessor. They would also be shown to their permanent barracks, which they could work from as they planned and assaulted Jovanovic’s compound to retrieve the Americans.
The United States Embassy’s Banja Luka Branch Office Director was handling the coordination and recovery of the two citizens along with representatives from the National Assembly Respublika Srpska, the governing body of the Respublika Srpska Stock Exchange, the Ministry of the Interior who oversaw the Respublika Srpska Special Anti-Terrorist Unit, and Administration for Protecting Persons and Objects, the local police. The administration had lost several men who were guarding Morton and Wolcott.
All Preacher knew was he and the team were the tactical muscle. Transportation in the form of two black SUVs took them from the airport to the embassy branch office where they filed into a conference room.
Rose walked to the front of the room where widescreens took up most of the wall. Rose started off the brief. “We want to thank all the representatives who are concerned about our citizens for supplying us with excellent resources and people to conduct this rescue.”
She introduced RSO Cliff Patton, A-Team Leader for SAU, Commander Davud Zlata, and Chief Inspector Petra Ristic who would be working closely with them to free the hostages.
“We’re still working on the exact location of the two Americans and are getting closer to where they were taken. The United States doesn’t negotiate with terrorists, and Jovanovic has been designated by the US as a terrorist.” Several other representatives spoke about the efforts they were making.
That left the team in a holding pattern. After the brief they were transported to their residence, a municipal building converted for their use. One room held eight bunks with all their gear conveyed from the airport while they were in the briefing.
Iceman granted them leave to roam the city for the afternoon and evening, as long as they were paired up with a swimbuddy and instructed to keep their phones handy in case there was a break in the case. Their boss also told them to keep a low profile. Iceman and Rose remained in the office to review the leads. Preacher approached GQ and said, “You want to hang out? We’ll hit someplace for lunch and check out the city.”