Bringing It Home (Code Of Honor Book 3) Read online

  Bringing It Home

  (Code of Honor Book Three)

  Copyright © 2020 Reese Knightley

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Warnings

  Please be advised that this book is intended for adult readers aged eighteen and older due to sexually explicit content, language, and violence. Trigger warning: Physical Abuse, domestic violence, violence.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to the actual person, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. This is a work of fiction and should be treated as such.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without the written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Art: Reese Dante reesedante.com

  Disclaimer

  Cover content is for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted on the cover is a model.

  Editing provided by Heidi Ryan of Amour the Line Editing

  Interior Design and Formatting provided by

  Stacey Blake of Champagne Book Design

  Copyright and Trademark Acknowledgments

  The author acknowledges the following copyright and trademark owners in this work of fiction. Bruce Willis, Justin Long, Creedence, VW Beetle, Amtrak, Harley Davidson.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  TITLE PAGE

  COPYRIGHT

  EPIGRAPH

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  EPILOGUE

  AUTHOR'S NOTE

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  OTHER BOOKS BY REESE

  Infinity—A US Army Special Forces, Black Ops, top secret military unit that provides help, domestic and foreign, and answers only to the Secretary of Defense.

  Diesel

  “Oliver’s down, Oliver’s down!” River’s shout came through the mic.

  “Roger that, Delta team,” Infinity’s base responded and then, “Alpha team?”

  “I’m on my way,” Master Sergeant Diesel Gannon growled. The M16 jumped in his hands when he squeezed the trigger, clearing a path.

  He worked his way around the perimeter of the partially torn down building. Ahead of him, a burned out jeep lay resting on its side in the hot desert sun. The pepper of gunfire echoed, growing distant at his left. Rounding the corner, he reached River and Isaac next to Oliver’s prone form.

  “What the fuck happened?” Diesel hunkered down next to them. Oliver’s eyes were open, but glossed over with pain.

  “Multiple shots to the vest, hit his head on the way down. Possible concussion,” Isaac responded.

  “Cover me.” Diesel hefted the lighter man into his arms, foregoing a fireman carry due to the possibility of broken ribs.

  Isaac and River opened fire and Diesel took off at a run back toward the deserted and broken down building.

  Another round of enemy fire smacked the ground next to him and dust flew. Chunks of a dirty concrete wall splintered apart, showering him as he ran beneath an overhang.

  Handing Oliver over to Captain Maddox Stone, Diesel spun and returned fire, providing cover for River and Isaac. The pair sprinted past him, crouched low, bullets smacking the dirt. Gunfire erupted from the top of the building, then smacked the ground at his feet.

  Diesel stepped out, aimed upward, and sent several rounds into the edge of the overhang. Stucco and debris showered him. He spat the bitter tasting dust from his mouth.

  The fucker from above ducked back. Bullets hit the wall near Diesel’s head, so he dropped into a crouch.

  Something hard landed on his back from above and knocked his weapon aside. The enemy’s weight took him down.

  Diesel went one way and his knee went the other. His kneecap popped when he hit the ground, crumbling beneath the guy’s weight.

  “Motherfucker!” he snarled. A knife flashed, and he grabbed at the guy’s wrist to keep it from reaching his throat.

  The big, beefy arm of Zane came around the insurgent’s neck from behind. His baby brother sliced a blade against the enemy’s throat, killing him instantly, before yanking the dead body away.

  “Fuck!” Diesel yelled, grabbing his knee and rolling to his side.

  “Diesel!” Zane shouted through the gunfire, but Diesel’s breath was gone and speaking a far distant second to the pain splintering his left kneecap.

  Zane lifted him, which wasn’t easy, and then Maddox was there, each with a hand beneath his arms, and he was dragged through the dirt to cover within the dilapidated building.

  After he was placed on the ground, he stretched out his leg. Still buzzing from adrenaline pumping through his body, the pain in his leg became a dull thud. He clenched his teeth and allowed Ethan to cut away his pant leg and assess the injury.

  “What’s the diagnosis?”

  Ethan wrapped his knee, adding support, before he glanced up and spoke. “Severe hyperextension is my best guess. Probably tore your ACL.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Lift him,” Ethan said and stepped back.

  “I’m too big to carry.” He waved them off when they tried to lift him. “Get the fuck out of here. I’ll make my way and radio later.”

  “Fuck you! We are not leaving you behind,” Zane snarled.

  “Zane,” he growled.

  “Shut it, Diesel!” His brother’s glare could have scorched a fry pan.

  Diesel bit back angry words. He’d been stupid to say it in the first place. He would no more leave them here as they would him.

  “Ethan is going to give you a shot of morphine, and then we gotta make it to the jeep, you hear me?” Maddox said, crouching next to him.

  He met the captain’s eyes and nodded. With the unit’s Captain Elijah Cobalt on his honeymoon, that left Maddox in charge of the team.

  “I hear ya.” They typically didn’t use morphine because a medic wanted their patient talking or screaming. It meant they were alive, but since his injury wasn’t life threatening, Diesel gave an abrupt nod.

  The slight prick of the needle and several minutes later, Diesel’s breath released in a long rush, the muscles in his neck eased, and he r
olled his shoulders.

  Zane and Maddox reached beneath his armpits and lifted him. Each of his arms were placed over their shoulders. He hopped as quickly as possible, but he knew he was fucking slowing them down.

  Heavy fire erupted behind them as the insurgents sensed they were on the run and pressed their advantage.

  Fuck, he was a hindrance to his team. Zane and Maddox never slowed, and when they reached the jeep, he was hefted up into the back.

  Infinity leaped into the jeeps just as the enemy came around the building.

  Zane handed him his M16. The cold metal of the weapon felt as familiar as his boots, and Diesel checked the clip before slamming it back home. Aiming out of the back of the jeep, he sent fifty rounds back at their pursuers. Bodies fell to the ground and the enemy dove for cover just as the jeep tore away from the compound.

  Clenching his teeth, his lips drew wide and he sent several more rounds out, keeping them at bay. Take that, you motherfuckers!

  He gripped the side of the jeep as it hit a pothole, bouncing them into the air. He came down hard, the bone jarring pain dimmed by the drugs. The jeep tore up and over a nearby rise and sped down the other side and on through the dusk.

  With the enemy left behind, Diesel closed his eyes and gripped his weapon. Almost ten clicks later, they reached an open field. He sat in the truck while the team popped smoke. Within minutes, a Blackhawk swooped in and he and Oliver were loaded up.

  It was the fucking hardest thing to do, leaving his unit behind.

  “Fucking text Zane when you get stateside or he’ll be a bitch to deal with,” Isaac joked, but Diesel saw the worry in the young man’s eyes.

  “I will.” He gave Isaac a quick nod and then over his shoulder, he gave his baby brother a thumbs up.

  Zane, holding Diesel’s gaze the whole time, reached out and pulled Isaac away from the helicopter.

  Maddox stepped closer and he held the soldier’s gaze; he’d become good friends with the captain over the past several months. They’d grown close after the cave-in back at the Triple R.

  He gripped Maddox’s hand. “Bring the team home safe.”

  “I will. Besides, River will have my ass if anything happens to me,” Maddox smirked, returning his hard grip.

  “So will I.”

  “We’ve got to go!” the pilot shouted.

  Maddox nodded and then backed away from the bird.

  The Blackhawk lifted, and Zane held his gaze for a long moment. Diesel felt his own eyes burn as his baby brother finally turned and ran with the rest of Infinity toward the jeeps.

  The helicopter hovered and two gunners opened fire with several machine gun rounds and a few RPGs. That would hopefully give the unit enough time to make it back to base camp.

  Diesel rubbed a hand over his mouth as the scene grew smaller until his team was lost from view.

  Triton

  “No! Please, Clay, not again! Nooooo!”

  A hand to his face shoved him back into the closet and his screams were ignored over the roar of laughter.

  Tripping over the shoes and boxes, he fell on his ass, cracking his head on the wall. The heavy door slammed shut, and the lock clicked into place. The special lock Clay had installed.

  Through the door came the sound of their laughter over his own ragged breath.

  “Please, Clay, please. I’ll be good,” he cried, and lifted his hands to pound at the door. When that didn’t work, he clawed and jiggled the doorknob.

  A fist hit the door.

  He jumped, sucking in one breath after another. Clay, Auto, and their friends laughed again.

  It was always the same struggle to breathe in the dark. He sucked in another quick gasp of air, his head buzzed, and white sprinkles edged his vision. He gazed wide-eyed into the darkness and clung to the thin white line of light beneath the door. He’d never liked the dark, even before the cave-in that had trapped him for hours.

  Fucking worthless piece of shit.

  His father’s words rang in his ears. He whimpered and bit back the sound, pressing his hands to his mouth to keep quiet. They’d only shoved him into the closet. It was nothing compared to what they would do if he continued crying. Huddled against the floor, he curled into a tight ball, choking back sobs.

  Laughter and the television echoed from the outer room.

  You need to face your fears. Clay had told him that over and over. At first, Triton had believed Clay had his best interests at heart, but after a while, he couldn’t ignore that what Clay was doing was wrong. He often wondered if he had a stamp on his forehead that said “abuse me”.

  “You’re just a waste of air, Triton. Taking up space. You can’t defend yourself. If you didn’t deal drugs for me, I’d be tempted to kick your ass to the curb,” Clay had reminded him many times.

  If only he used the drugs he carried and sold to the salon for Clay. At least that way, he’d find a small measure of relief, but the one time he’d tried, he’d become violently ill.

  He wished he were braver, so he could defend himself against Clay and his gang, but mostly, he wished he’d never been born. Ending it all seemed so much easier, but he couldn’t do that to Maddox or Bull. They loved him in spite of his failures.

  The shoe beneath his cheek grew damp and he shifted around. The dark brought back memories, the terror of the abandoned mine, but also the one bright spot in all the horror.

  Out of that dark pit of despair had risen his hero.

  Diesel Gannon.

  He tugged down his jacket from the hanger above and pressed his cheek to it. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend the softness was the muscled chest of his big, gruff savior. Pretend that the soldier with the deep voice and soothing hands was there holding him tight, protecting him, keeping him safe.

  And not for the first time, he cried over Diesel. Why couldn’t he have a man like that?

  Because I don’t deserve better. He was a worthless, useless piece of flesh taking up space and using good air. He was a nobody. Even Diesel hadn’t thought twice about him.

  The soldier hadn’t even said goodbye.

  A foot kicked him awake, and he scrambled up, blinking at the sudden, bright light.

  Auto snorted down at him.

  Triton crawled out of the closet and bolted past the asshole.

  “You fucking pussy! Did you learn your lesson?” Clay yelled at him from the bedroom.

  “Y-y-yes,” Triton stammered, and just the sound of Clay’s voice roiled his stomach. He raced into the bathroom, where he threw up until snot ran out of his nose and his eyes were too swollen to see out of.

  “Doesn’t sound like it to me,” Auto snorted. The ex-con, an imposing figure, stood in the hallway near the doorway.

  Triton stayed hovered over the bowl as bile kept coming up. Clay darkened the doorway, drawing his side-eyed gaze.

  “Got my stash?” Clay said to his brother.

  Auto flipped Clay a baggie, which he tucked it into his front pocket.

  “Don’t forget we need to see Sticks about that shit that comes in tonight.”

  “I won’t,” Auto responded. “What about doing another bounty, anything on that?”

  Triton’s stomach gave up more bile. Clay was a bounty hunter for god’s sake. Supposed to capture bad guys, not be one of them.

  “Not yet, but I’ll hit up Benny’s place and see what’s up. Don’t forget about Sticks or we’ll be dead,” Clay repeated.

  A few minutes later, the front door slammed, signaling Clay had left.

  Crawling up from the toilet, Triton bent over the sink and splashed water on his face and then brushed his teeth. The minty toothpaste erased the smell of losing the contents of his stomach. Placing his toothbrush away, he turned to the doorway.

  Auto’s big and bulky frame blocked his escape from the bathroom and his stomach clenched. What did the guy want now? The icy tile of the bathroom floor seeped up through his feet, freezing his whole body.

  “You know, Clay’s been having
you watched.”

  Watched, why? Triton shook, not daring to look away from the guy’s sweaty face and cruel gaze.

  “Clay’s told you over and over not to be hanging out with that faggot, Fraser.”

  “He’s just a friend,” Triton said, taking a step back from the menacing figure of Auto.

  “See, now I know that, but Clay wouldn’t understand. I’ll continue to keep my mouth shut for a price.”

  Triton’s breath hitched, and he pressed a hand over his mouth, holding back the building scream.

  “Unless you want me to tell Clay?” Auto’s spider-like black eyes gleamed coldly.

  At Triton’s hasty step back, the porcelain sink dug into his hip. Why was this happening? He blinked against the tears burning at the edge of his eyes.

  “That’s what I thought.” Auto unsnapped his jeans and pulled the zipper down.

  Triton’s whole body shuddered before he slowly sank to his knees on the cold, tiled floor.

  Diesel

  “Get that fucking thing away from me.” He swung at the nurse who was holding a bed pan.

  “Sir, sir! Please lie down.”

  “What the hell is going on in here?” Maddox’s deep voice boomed in the room.

  “I’m not using that!” He pointed to the bed pan with a scowl and crossed his arms.

  “Leave us. I’ll take care of it.”

  The woman snapped the pan down and marched from the room.

  “Come on.” Maddox ripped back the bedding and helped him sit up. From there, it was a quick hop to the toilet. He planted a hand on the wall over the commode and pissed for five minutes.

  His knee throbbed, and he bit back a groan when Maddox helped him back to the bed.

  “Thanks.”

  Flopping back on the bed, he lifted his arm to shield his eyes.

  “How’d the surgery go?”

  “As well as can be expected.” He lowered his arm. “Doc says I could be laid up six to nine months. That means I might not be back to duty until fucking November.”

  “That means you’re officially on medical leave is what that means. And I have a proposition for you.”