“I can’t tell you,” Hayden replied, finally. “He’s not out and asked me not to tell anyone who he was.”
It was almost the truth. Christian wasn’t in denial, he wasn’t out and while they’d never discussed telling others or not, Christian had agreed immediately that he didn’t want to explain where they’d been. Although Hayden knew Brian could and would keep a secret, it wasn’t his place to tell. He trusted the man with his life. Brian was more understanding than most, and there was a reason behind it, Hayden was sure of that, but it was one Brian didn’t want to share, and he wasn’t willing to push for. Brian’s word was enough for him.
“Fair enough.”
Hayden took a deep breath and forced memories of Christian into the recesses of his mind. He needed to get his head back were it belonged. He knew as well as the next man that not being fully aware of your surroundings was the fastest, easiest and stupidest way to get yourself killed. Or worse, one of your buddies.
“Military or civilian?”
“What?”
“The guy you were with—is he military or civilian?”
“If I tell you, will you stop pestering me?”
“Depends on your answer,” Brian replied.
Hayden blew out a breath. “Not a civilian.”
“In the closet and in the military?”
Hayden nodded.
“Do I know him?”
“Brian, he’s military and isn’t ready for anyone to know he’s gay. Back off it,” Hayden bit out. “Damn, you’re worse than a girl sometimes.”
“Hey, that hurts! Are you ever going to tell people?”
“Maybe, when it seems safe.”
“Dude, don’t ask don’t tell isn’t in effect anymore. Hell, we all went to the diversity and tolerance briefings. Besides, the crew knows.”
“Yeah, that was an accident. And we both know that if someone on the teams hated gays it would be relatively easy to get rid of them, us. Make it look like a training accident.”
“Easy to kill a SEAL? No way! Besides, no one is stupid enough to throw their career away like that.”
“It would be easy enough for another SEAL. Never under estimate the power of hatred,” Hayden answered. He knew of two men that had openly let their hatred of gays and lesbians in the military be known. Alcohol had a tendency to do things like that.
“You almost sound like Yoda.”
Hayden shrugged.
“You’re talking about Walters. He was drunk and pissed off. His old lady went on some religious bend and refused to sleep with him in any sense of the word. Threatening to take herself and the kids to some religious center so they can become more God-like without the evil of the world and the military corrupting them,” Brian said, dropping his gear on the ground and leaning against the car parked next to Hayden’s truck.
“Would you bet your life on it? My life?” Hayden demanded. Every gay man knew someone who’d been threatened, attacked or killed by bigots. “And that doesn’t explain Seiboweitz.”
“You don’t know if he’s like that. And usually he’s drunk or working on getting there. Fucking lushes, the both of them. And I know for a fact a couple of times, his girlfriends have left him. Both times for civilian guys.”
Hayden shook his head. “Since he’s always saying how fags are ruining the military, the country and the world in general and how none would ever make it as a SEAL, not to mention that the only good fag is a dead one, you’ll forgive me if I choose not to take that particular risk.”
“Maybe he’s in denial about himself. Doesn’t know who he truly is.”
“At puberty while you were checking out girls, I already knew I preferred boys. I spent the rest of high school coming to terms with that. With the fact that I wasn’t
normal
.”
“Hey Medema!”
Hayden frowned as Ryland Seiboweitz made his way over to them.
“Seiboweitz,” Hayden said and focused on checking that he had everything he could possibly need with him on their up coming mission.
Ryland Seiboweitz nodded at Brian and hitched his pack higher up on his shoulder. “Rumor has it you were at Diversions. Dancing and kissing more than one man.” Contempt laced the man’s voice. “So, are you the woman in a relationship or is the other guy?”
“Seiboweitz are you that stupid? How the fuck did you make it through training? We’re leaving for a mission to God knows where for God knows how long and you choose now to bring up a rumor? Does it matter who I sleep with? Who any of us sleeps with as long as we do our fucking jobs?” Hayden demanded. How in the hell had this asshole found out? Was he referring to this past Friday or another day? Christian was the only SEAL he’d sent there. He looked. He always did. He hadn’t seen anyone he knew from the base. And unlike some of the other clubs in the area, this one was for men only. Hayden mentally swore. The answers didn’t really matter. He was tired of lying. Tired of hiding who he was. It wasn’t like he wanted to flaunt it in front of everyone, he simply wanted to be himself. His real self. Taking a deep breath, he made his decision and prayed the cost wouldn’t be his life. “Yeah, asshole, I was at Diversions. And yeah, I was kissing a guy. Danced with one too. What the fuck difference does it make on how I do my job? Your comfort is not my problem.”
“There is no room in the team for gays.”
Before Hayden could act, Brian slammed Seiboweitz against the side of a nearby truck. “There’s no room in any team or any military for the kind of shit you’re spouting. Which, by the way, is not only against the rules now, but could very well get you killed.”
“You the one he was kissing?”
Brian shook his head. “Nope, but one of my best friends is gay, and I know for a fact the brothers of at least two of the men in this platoon are gay. Grow up. Lose the hatred and insecurity or get the fuck off this team. There is no room for that shit here.”
“Hey! Break it up!” Several team members called out rushing to intervene.
“There are fucking homos everywhere. Even on the fucking team,” Seiboweitz snarled.
“Who the fuck cares? Get your gear and get your ass back inside,” someone yelled.
“Watch your back faggot,” Seiboweitz growled. “Never know what can happen on a mission.”
Hayden refused to let the insult bother him and leaned into the other man’s personal space. “Try it,” he challenged, “and I’ll fucking bury your ass. I’m faster and a better shot. Who I fuck doesn’t change that.”
Hayden let out a deep breath as the small group retreated inside. Seiboweitz was going to be trouble. The niggling feeling that let him know when danger was approaching or something was off, sparked. Just enough to cause wariness. He waited several moments before venturing into the briefing room. Like it or not, he was outted.
“One of us?” Brian asked as they moved inside to the briefing room.
“Pay attention to the mission,” Hayden shot back. That Brian had figured that much out, hadn’t really surprised him. At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised if Brian narrowed the possibility of who it was to one of the men in the room. Hayden had hoped, however, to keep that much from his friend until after they’d returned from at least this mission.
“Well I’ll be a son of a bitch. I guess that would explain things.”
“Drop it Bri, or I just might go into details about what happened. Vivid details.”
“That’s low.”
“Fair play.” Hayden shrugged.
He swore, walked into the eggshell white briefing room and dropped into the first open seat he found as they waited for the briefing to start. Brian took one next to him and shot him a questioning look. Hayden bit his cheek to keep from swearing again, forcing himself to keep his gaze neutral as Brian scanned the room. One slip up on either his or Christian’s parts and Brian would know in half of a heartbeat exactly who Hayden had spent the weekend with.
Hayden had used spare moments to bring himself up to date with the political situation. What he found had shifted his understanding for the frenzied pace and the request for the SEALs to extract the young man. The twenty-year-old Mikhail Dombrowski, code named Peter Pan, was thought to be the heir apparent for the new principality of Argyzchry in Eastern Europe. The official announcement would wait until after a long-planned holiday in Rio de Janeiro. But he’d disappeared seven days after arrival.
Three days ago, twenty-four hours after Dombrowski had disappeared, the bodies of two of the young man’s bodyguards were discovered. A grainy, thirty-second video burned onto a CD had been included on their persons. Without knowing exactly how the video was attached to the body, Hayden was certain that it was painful and obvious. Brazilian drug kingpin Raphael De Luisa, also known as
O Caudilho
or the Warlord, had later been identified as the responsible party. His move was meant to ensure that the Argyzchrian government didn’t take a similar stance as their European and American allies on drugs and dealing with drug dealers. The team had watched the short video and the several video clips sent later proving the young man was still alive, dissecting every frame for any clue that could help them. The successive footage showed an increasingly dirty, scared and injured man. Four days at the hands of the drug lord already, the SEALs could only hope it was still a rescue mission when they got there.
Plans had been discussed and a secondary extraction point and time were agreed on. The normal laughing and joking that occurred between the men was absent, everyone’s focus was on the upcoming mission as they secured weapons, ammo, MREs, batteries and night vision goggles before checking and double-checking everything. They had forty-eight hours from insertion to extraction and the intelligence they had was sketchy at best.
De Luisa’s organization was one that no one, including the DEA, the CIA or the Brazilian authorities had been able successfully infiltrate for any extended period of time. Upon discovery, the agent or police officer was tortured almost beyond recognition and thrown on the steps of the Rio police department or the U.S. Consulate. Blowing out a breath, Hayden checked his stash of weapons. It would have to be enough. There was more than one kid’s life at stake, a whole lot of lives and a shit ton of diplomatic consequences. Diplomacy was breaking down and there wasn’t extra time for more intelligence or training.
Chapter Three
Christian crouched in the dense undergrowth, his weapon trained on the armed men passing ten feet in front of him. The “minimal” patrols mentioned were frequent and well trained. Anger surged through him at the shoddy intelligence. It didn’t matter. They still had a mission to complete without the benefit of time to do proper reconnaissance. Now all they could hope was that the rest of the information wasn’t as bad.
Accompanying that was a small niggle of worry for Hayden. He didn’t want to lose the man now. Not when they were edge of something else. Even if he wasn’t quite sure what it was. Letting out a slow breath, he forced thoughts of Hayden out of his mind. Now wasn’t the time. Christian signaled to the men nearest to him and moved forward. He wanted to avoid killing anyone until they were closer to the compound. Patrols that were out of communications for too long could alert the wrong people to their presence. It was essential that their arrival be as unnoticed as possible.
They had been dropped off two hours ago under the cover of darkness. They would attack O Caudilho’s compound just before dawn and leave before the Brazilian Police showed up. The Brazilian authorities had asked them to get proof of cocaine production, collection, or distribution while they were retrieving the prisoner. The team would only have one shot. The local government was not willing to allow any outside military or police force in their jurisdiction, further proving that De Luisa owned the local government, something the U.S. had been saying for years.
Muscles cramping and screaming to move, Christian trained his weapon on the surrounding foliage in anticipation as the seconds ticked by. Continually scanning the area, he looked for anything out of the ordinary. Anything that would tell them people were near by. The patrols were regular and armed, but carried no visible communication equipment. The guards watching the single set of gates were vigilant and would need to be taken out and any alarm system deactivated.
The compound was surrounded by corrugated metal fencing and barbed wire. The handful of buildings on the outside of the fencing were little more than thatched roofs held up by four poles, while the roofs of the buildings inside appeared to be a combination of thatch and metal. Satellite photos had shown nearly a dozen buildings of various sizes, but only one that looked like it might be a house. None of the other buildings were thought to have windows or even multiple entrances. Details that both helped and hindered them. No one wanted to get trapped in a building with no way out.
His heart raced, adrenaline surged through him. They would have minutes to get in and get out. Two eight-man teams had been broken down and reorganized into four four-man teams. The new breakdown, while taking away the numbers, allowed them to move faster through the compound. Once entry had been made, his four-person team—consisting of himself, his dive buddy and best friend Jason Morganstern, the homophobic Ryland Seiboweitz and Tyler Harrington the medic from Hayden’s crew—would move to the left hitting two medium size and two smaller buildings to the far end of the open courtyard. Hayden and three others would take the three farthest buildings. The third team would serve as the entry men and locate and shut down the power source, while the fourth would take the remaining out buildings. The current plan was to start with the smaller structures before hitting the large house, which is where Intel said the young man was being kept. Not only was a direct assault on the house suicidal, it didn’t make sense for the enemy to keep a prisoner there. Especially since they needed to prove to various diplomats and authorities innocence.