Before he became Branch Dillinger.
So that wasn’t even his real name, who he’d been.
Who he’d been before.
Before now.
Before her.
Evangeline feared her knees would knock so she clamped her hands on them to stop them from shaking.
“He’s the badass motherfucker the baddest badass motherfucker wished he was,” G whispered.
Branch’s words of weeks before came to her.
What can I do?
Apparently everything.
But none of it he thought was any good.
“Branch,” she whispered back.
“And one day his team, and it was his team, Evangeline, he was their lieutenant, became more valuable dead than alive. So they were set up to go down. He didn’t know this because he was set up to go down with them. And they did. All of them but Branch.”
She felt the tears spring to her eyes but she said nothing.
“So he survived,” G told her quietly. “He survived his woman being murdered and he survived his team being wiped out. Now, I don’t know but I’m thinkin’ that’s the double whammy of survivor’s remorse it’s not too easy to shake.”
It was her voice shaking when she agreed, “No.”
“That’s all I can give you and that’s more than I should have given you. Much more, darlin’,” G told her.
“I don’t … I don’t know…” She cleared her croaky throat. “I don’t know how to fix that, G.”
G had no response to that.
They sat in silence, Evangeline doing it feeling the hot tear that ran down her face.
She lifted a hand and dashed it away, turning her head to look out the French doors at her pool lit by moonlight with all its potted plants, her fire pit, the lounge chairs, all so normal. Prettier (in her estimation, but she was a real estate agent, she’d seen a lot of pools, so she felt a relative expert in that) than most, but normal.
A pool in a house in a city where a woman lived who was getting a dog and a cat and falling in love with a handsome, protective, funny, kind man.
Another tear coursed down her cheek.
“I … I have to find a way to fix that,” she said to the pool.
G again had no response.
She looked to him. “Doesn’t the VA have programs for PTSD? Don’t they—?”
“Baby, he’s dead,” G said gently. “Even before they thought they took him out, they killed him. He’s not off the grid. The minute he signed on, knowing direct close contact with the enemy is a guarantee upon acceptance and if captured or killed, missions assigned might have knowledge they exist denied by the government, he ceased to exist. But to stay safe after they took out the team, he needed to cease to exist. There’s no VA program for him. There’s nothing for him. There is no him, and if they ever found out he survived, we’ll just say they wouldn’t arrange a welcome-home party.”
And it all finally made sense.
“Can he … Is it safe for him to be with me?”
“He doesn’t think so.”
“God,” she pushed out, looking back to the pool.
“It is, though, Evangeline. I … fuck,” he bit off and she looked back at him. “I have certain skills and I made that happen,” he shared something of himself, “so if he wanted it, he could have you. A life. Be on the grid in a way he could do that and no one would know. Before, he didn’t slide back on because he thought his life was over, he didn’t think he had a reason to. Now, he’s earned himself a life, meeting you, and he’s not sliding on to protect you.”
“But you can make him safe?”
“I already have.”
“Then I don’t understand why—”
“Your woman gets dead then every member of your team, your team, darlin’, under your command on your watch gets dead, my take, you get a wee bit overprotective.”
Her stomach burning, she started laughing uncontrollably.
Leaning forward to put her face in her hands, her elbows to her knees, her shoulders wracking, the laughter switched to hiccupping tears.
She felt G sit down beside her and put his hand on her back, stroking and murmuring, “Hey,” and she twisted and forced her face in his chest, lurching in his arms with the force of her tears.
Those arms closed tight around her and she burrowed deeper.
The man she only knew as G and that for not very long stroked her back and held her close.
All of a sudden, she tore free and took her feet. Swiping her hands on her cheeks, she rounded the coffee table and started pacing.
“No. Fuck that. Fuck that,” she snapped, stopped and turned to G. “Fuck that, G.”
“Fuck what, baby?” he asked quietly.
She didn’t know, but fuck something.
Then she knew
So she shared.
“I told myself even before I was in love with him that I was all-in to win. He’s not going to leave me. Not because of that shit, shit he couldn’t control. Shit other people infested his life with. No way. Fuck that.”
“What are you gonna do?” he queried.
She tossed a hand high in the air, beginning to pace again. “I have no friggin’ clue. But it’ll be something.” She stopped, looked back at him and announced abruptly, “I have a guest room. Are you staying?”
“Uh … say what?”
“It’s late. Do you want a glass of wine or something? We can kick back. Kill a bottle. Maybe three. Then you can crash here.”
“Evangeline, I haven’t spent the night in a home for seven years,” he said quietly.
God!
These men!
“Then you’re due,” she snapped, lifted her hand and jerked her finger at him. “And, you know, I’m a little overwrought about this stuff about Branch. But it isn’t lost on me you have issues.” On her “you” she jerked her finger at him again. “So once I fix him, you’re Branch’s friend friend. You’re here to look out for him. If you can fix it so he can be on the grid, then you can fix it to put you on the grid.” Another jerk of her finger. “So once I’ve done that, I’m going to fix you.”
She ended that on yet another jerk of her finger at him.
“You are a little overwrought, darlin’,” he agreed, his voice shaking with laughter. “And you’re a little bitty thing. But I’m still thinkin’ I believe you.”
She lifted her head. “He’s falling in love with me, G.”
“I’m a little in love with you too,” he muttered.
“Sorry, honey, I’m taken.”
At that, his booming laughter filled the room.
She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but hearing it made her smile.
He stood and walked around the coffee table to get to where she’d paced.
He stopped in front of her, bent low to be able to grab her hand (he wasn’t as tall as Branch but most everyone was taller than Evangeline) and he lifted it to press it against his chest.
“I knew, when she hit him, if he picked her, she’d hit hard and she’d be worth it,” he whispered.
God, that was so nice.
“Don’t make me cry again. I detest crying.”
“Sorry, baby.”
It was time to move on.
She’d strategize later.
Now it was time to drink.
“Do you want wine?” she asked.
“You got vodka?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then get the glasses.”
She turned to move away from him but he kept a firm hold on her hand so she stopped and turned back.
“I’m Cameron. My friends call me Cam.”
Tears filled her eyes again but she fought them back, even if they filled her voice when she replied, “Lovely to meet you, Cam.”
“You can turn on the lights now, beautiful.”
She swallowed and nodded.
He let her go.
She moved to the table at the side of the couch and turned on the light.
&nbs
p; That was when she looked to Branch’s friend.
And she was not surprised to find he was utterly beautiful.
twenty-three
My Name Is Branch
BRANCH
Branch rounded the rock and saw what he expected to see in the distance.
He moved there, slowly, because the terrain in the dark was dicey, not to mention it wouldn’t be good to surprise the man he was meeting.
Therefore he let out the whistle the man would recognize before he even got close.
He saw the figure hunched beside the fire straighten and turn his way.
Branch walked right to him, and when he arrived, he dumped his pack and they clasped forearms, pulled each other into their torsos, rounded backs with their other arms and pounded.
The pounding stopped and they stood just like that for long beats before they broke away, still clasping forearms.
They looked through the dark cut only by moonlight and firelight to catch each other’s eyes and stood that way for several more beats before Gerbil said, “Target neutralized.”
Branch drew in a deep breath.
They let each other go and turned to the small fire. Both of them hunkering down beside it, Gerbil grabbed a long twig he’d been using and poked at the flames.
“Team communications reported target acquired at one seventeen yesterday afternoon. At one twenty-two p.m., they reported target neutralized. GPS on Raines’s truck blipped out at three thirty-two. My guess, they compacted it. Best way to leave no trace,” Gerbil shared. His voice became a mutter when he finished, “Wonder what they did with the dogs.”
Branch knew what they’d done with the dogs. If that team was like his team, they had enough wet work on their job descriptions. Taking the life of an innocent, two-legged or four-legged, was avoided if at all possible. If those dogs posed no threat, they’d be caged and sitting outside a no-kill shelter for the staff to discover when they showed in the morning.
“Feels weird, it bein’ done,” Gerbil noted quietly.
“Yeah,” Branch agreed.
Branch kept his eyes to the fire even as he felt Gerbil’s aimed at his face.
“Figure, you picked this as the rendezvous point, you remember that weekend of leave.”
Branch lifted his gaze skyward, the auburn Technicolor of the variegated walls of the Grand Canyon shadowed and looking fogged in the moonlight, leading up to an inky sky filled with trailing clouds and dotted with stars.
That weekend.
That weekend when Gerbil was still with them and the team had hiked down to the Colorado River together and spent it doing nothing. Nothing but shooting the shit and kicking back, drinking beer and eating hot dogs, laughing at crap only they got and no one else would think was funny. No bullets flying, nothing exploding, in the presence of the only six people in the world any of them trusted.
In the presence of family.
“I remember.”
“Lex was in love with Benetta,” Gerbil whispered.
Branch looked back to the fire.
“They got it on about a klick from here,” Gerbil told him.
Even though the temperature was mild, Branch lifted his hands, palms toward the fire.
“Benetta was hard to read,” Gerbil continued. “But the way she went more gung ho than her usual gung ho in Venezuela when Lex got his ass in a sling, my guess is, she was feelin’ it too in more ways than getting loose and getting her some under an Arizona moon.”
He wasn’t wrong. Branch had known why they’d taken off that night. The entire team knew. Fuck, Branch had caught them going at it in the tactical room at their mobile base in Korea four months before their weekend of leave.
He’d walked right back out.
None of them had ever said a word.
But Branch knew that shit had started way before their trek through the Grand Canyon.
He also knew it never ended.
And Gerbil was right.
Lex wasn’t the only one who’d taken that fall.
“I think about it a lot, John,” Gerbil whispered, “and what I think is that it’s good they went together. Just the thought of one of them seeing the other go first…” Gerbil let that thought trail.
“Yeah,” Branch agreed.
“Lex had good taste. She was a beautiful woman.”
“Benetta was fucked in the head. Lex was butt-ugly.”
He heard Gerbil’s chuckle before his friend replied, “Some women go for those giant-sized, bald-headed fucks who look like they eat nails for breakfast.”
“Obviously.”
They were silent a few beats before Gerbil murmured, “Good they went together.”
Branch felt his throat close.
“You asked him, Rob would have said it no hesitation, he would have died for you,” Gerbil said quietly.
Branch kept his eyes to the fire. “We all felt the same way about each other.”
“Yeah, but you know it was more with Rob. He worshiped you, John. Hero-type shit. Best thing that happened in his life was working beside you, able to call you his best friend and knowing he had that in return.”
He knew.
He’d felt that too.
“Best man I knew,” Branch finally turned his head and looked at Gerbil, “other than you.”
To that, Branch knew what those words meant to Gerbil when he looked to the fire.
“They aren’t dead, not really, not until we go,” Gerbil whispered. “Until their memory dies with us, we still got them.”
“That’s the truth, Cam, but I’m still gonna hang on to being pissed off with how we lost them because they didn’t deserve that.”
“I’m with you.”
“Raines is gone and I got no regrets the hand we played in that but always knew, he was out, that wouldn’t erase what he took from us.”
“I hear that too.”
Branch looked back to the fire. “But yeah. We’re here to be with them and you’re right. They’ll always be with us. So even with time and vengeance behind us, it still fuckin’ sucks. But reason we’re right here is to be with them so let’s do that.”
“Hiked down fifteen hundred feet then navigated six klicks of beautiful but difficult terrain to break the law, start a fire and illegally camp, brother. In other words, don’t gotta say I’m all-in with that.”
Branch turned, opened his pack, dug in and pulled out the Scotch.
Piz’s favorite brand.
It cost a fuckin’ fortune. Piz had always been about quality, not giving a shit about a price tag.
Most of the crap he dropped a wad on, Branch thought he was insane.
But that bottle of Scotch would be worth every penny.
He broke the seal, looked to Gerbil and lifted the bottle.
“Team,” he said before he threw back a mouthful, swallowed it and felt the burn slide down his throat and warm his stomach.
He handed the bottle to Gerbil, who lifted it Branch’s way.
“Team,” he replied and threw back his own swallow.
He handed the bottle back to Branch and they both looked at the fire.
“Syria,” Branch murmured.
Gerbil emitted a quiet laugh.
“Christ, that was fucked up,” he declared.
“Di was a fuckin’ lunatic,” Branch muttered.
“Woman had bigger balls than any man I know,” Gerbil returned.
Branch felt his mouth form a smile and he didn’t let it fade.
He yanked his pack under him, rested his ass to it and sat in the moonlight by the Colorado River, kicked back and shooting the shit with a man he knew was family.
RIFLE TEAM
At dawn the next morning, the two men stood at the base of the Grand Canyon on the banks of the Colorado River.
They stared at the tranquil flow of the water before the tall, white man started it.
“Benetta Maria Rodriguez,” he said.
They both let that name settle in the canyon walls before the bl
ack man kept it going.
“Lexis Artemas Mitro.”
They waited for that name to settle too, before the white man closed his fist around the tags in his hand.
He lifted them to his forehead, then touched them to his heart and finally to his lips before he said, “Diane Rose Collins.”
He then threw them into the middle of the river.
They saw the small splash the tags made, the ripples floating out and disappearing.
The black man touched the tags he held to his forehead, his heart and his lips before he said, “Louis Anthony Pizale,” and he threw the tags into the river.
The ripples disappeared and the white man took a visibly deep gust of oxygen into his lungs before he transferred the tags in his left hand to his right, touched them to forehead, heart, lips, and he said, “Robert Alan Baker.”
He threw the tags into the river.
And like the others, they were gone.
He turned his gaze to his black brother.
His brother was watching him.
The white man nodded.
The black man lifted the tags in his hand, touched them to his head, his heart, his lips, before he called out the words “John David Wright,” and threw the tags into the peaceful blue.
They let them sink into an eternity before the white man looked again to the black man. He waited until his friend ducked his head, lifting his hand to dig into the back of his tee, the tags clinking quietly as he pulled them loose from his shirt.
He handed them to his friend.
The white man took them and lifted them to head, heart, lips, before he called, “Cameron Drew Reed,” and threw them in the river.
The sun rising in the east like it always did, they stared at waters that had been flowing for six million years through canyons that were seventy million years old, both of them now a part of that sacred place in a way they would be until the sun stopped rising.
They did this until Gerbil said, “Right. Let’s hike out, get somewhere and order a huge fuckin’ breakfast. I’m starved. You feel me, John?”
Branch looked to his brother.
“My name is Branch.”
As the sun rose over the canyon, Gerbil held his gaze before his white teeth cut a slash in his handsome face.