The Fallen One by Brittney Sahin EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Authors: Brittney Sahin
- Language: English
- Genre: Action & Adventure Romance
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ABU DHABI, U.A.E. – NOVEMBER
2011
MAYBE I SHOULD’VE BEEN A PILOT LIKE REBECCA WANTED ME TO BE. I
stared out the window at the F-22 Raptor on the base’s runway, noticing
two Air Force guys chatting with a few of the U.A.E.’s men. The
sophisticated warplane would be heading out tonight, same as last, with a
wave of F-16 Fighting Falcons piloted by our allies, the Emiratis.
Not that the Pentagon had officially acknowledged Americans were
operating alongside them from the Al-Dhafra base. No, as far as the White
House was concerned, we weren’t even there.
And for that matter, my team hadn’t been in Somalia the last two
months, working to dismantle Al Qaeda’s foreign fighting trafficking
network to Yemen.
“I know what you’re thinking.” I turned to face Griffin Andrews as we
awaited our flight home with the rest of our teammates.
“Doubt it.” Hell, I don’t even know what’s going on in my head right
now. “But I reckon you’re going to tell me.” Fatigue had set in, which had
my Texas drawl sliding through. I did my best to abandon my accent
whenever I wasn’t Stateside. Better not to let the enemies know anything
about you. Clearly, I needed to get home. I also needed to fuck my wife.
Relieve some tension.
Rebecca and I had been going through a rough patch ever since I went
through Selection. She didn’t want me becoming a Tier One guy, and that
was all I’d wanted since I’d watched Rambo, too young to know it was all
sound effects and bullshit. So, she’d reluctantly agreed, but her yes had
come with a cost—the cold fucking shoulder.
Speaking of inaccurate films . . . I looked across the room where some
of our team was gathered around a movie. Instead of Griffin enlightening
me with his sudden mind reading skills, the FNG getting hammered by a
senior operator captured our attention.
“I’d rather you watch Jerry Springer than this BS. They’ve got SEALs
HALO’ing in at night without NODs. What kind of garbage is this?”
Dennison, our assistant team leader, remarked, busting Bradley’s balls.
“Two things you don’t leave home without—night vision and your rifle. If
you can watch this and not bat an eyelash at the inaccuracies, I have serious
concerns about what you might do if your rifle jams up in a gunfight. Or
hell, maybe you’ll try and exfil on your dirty side. Or . . .”
He kept going, but I stopped listening. Bradley turned off the TV and
tossed the remote, doing a hell of a job sucking it up and taking whatever
Dennison served him.
Up until six months ago, Griffin and I were the FNGs, the fucking new
guys, in the Unit. We’d been happy to relinquish that title, especially given
how young we were. Griffin hadn’t even punched over to this side of thirty
yet, and I was only thirty-two as of June.
Griffin tipped his head, signaling for us to make a clean exit before we
got roped into the conversation. And I had a feeling he was about to go
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