Brotherhood Protectors: Before The Brotherhood (Kindle Worlds Novella) Read online

  Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Mary Jernigan. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Brotherhood Protectors remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Mary Jernigan, or their affiliates or licensors.

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  Dedication

  To the man, the legend, the Mack Daddy of them all.

  * * *

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  Prologue

  Caitlin Cooper sat nervously as she gazed over the crowd. There were more people here than she’d anticipated, though a Bronze Star Ceremony for a local was sure to be the talk of the town and draw even those normally uninterested in current affairs out of the woodwork. An event such as this also garnered national attention, so in addition to the community and local politicians, there were also members of congress and congressional committees in attendance. It was odd to see such a mixed crowd and recognize so many of the people—both personally and professionally—especially when she hadn’t been back in years. Not that she’d planned it that way, but as a news correspondent covering the War on Terror, her assignments rarely kept her on U.S. soil, much less in her old stomping grounds.

  Of course, she had cut her journalism teeth covering local news in Montana when she’d been fresh out of college. She’d covered all kinds of stories from festivals to police beat stuff to eventually local politics. The turning point in her career had been when she’d interviewed the former governor regarding his stance on capital punishment when a bill to repeal the death penalty had failed to get the support it needed to pass. Though the story itself hadn’t been the defining moment. In fact, it had nothing to do with it. She shivered at the memory and chaffed her arms as she thought back to the night when she’d reported live from the governor’s mansion, and the cameraman had left to load some of his gear. She’d been alone with the governor’s then-aide— and the current lieutenant governor—when he made an unwelcome pass at her. He hadn’t crossed any official lines, but he hadn’t reacted pleasantly to her rejection. Relief had flooded her when her colleague returned for the last case, and she’d quickly fallen into step beside him as he exited the building. If she were ballsy, she would go over to the scumbag now and thank him since that encounter had been the kick in the pants she needed to leave the comfort of her home state and reach for her dreams. Because if she was going to get hit on in her own backyard by questionable politicians, there was no reason to fear the news outside of Montana.

  WWCAD? That had been her internal mantra whenever she felt at a crossroads. What would Christiane Amanpour do? The woman inspired her. She was the reason Caitlin wanted to go into journalism. Within a month of leaving home, Caitlin had landed the job of a lifetime as a correspondent with a major twenty-four-hour news station in Atlanta. She’d paid her dues covering stories on the war, even had been sent on location to the Middle East multiple times, though not right in the action. Always on the outskirts of any real danger tucked neatly within the press corp.

  When Caitlin’s gaze landed on a group of tough-looking men entering the room, she quickly dropped it to her notebook as heat tinged the tips of her ears. One of those guys was Hank Patterson. There had been a time in her life whenever he walked into a room she’d swear her heart was going to jump right out of her chest. She’d had it bad for him growing up and should laugh now over her awkward adolescence and silly crush. If only she could tell her fourteen-year-old self that one day Hank Patterson would be in the same room as her and he not be the one making her heart pound like crazy. She was certain if she could actually go back in time and tell herself this, her mini-me would totally ignore her. Caitlin had spent an embarrassing amount of time in her bedroom listening to love songs on her iPod while staring at his picture in the yearbook…and that was when she hadn’t gotten to spend the night with her best-friend and Hank’s sister, Allie, sleeping under the same roof as him.

  Oh how times had changed. She wasn’t a little girl pining for a boy. The sight of Hank did nothing to her anymore. Her racing heart and sweaty palms were because of the man standing next to him.

  Owen.

  Owen Burrell. She knew there was no avoiding him today. Hell, he was the reason she was even here. Her starving gaze wouldn’t be denied either, breaking her mental command not to stare at the man who’d stolen her heart in the desert. God, he still looked perfect, even though he walked with a cane now; his arms rippled as he leaned slightly into it as he moved. She remembered just how strong he was when he lifted her in the heat of passion just a few months ago, and she’d bet her life his battle injury wouldn’t slow him down for a second. She had firsthand knowledge just how determined that man could be when he set his sights on something he wanted.

  Several people in the crowd near him came over, shook his hand, and clapped him on the back, probably thanking him for his service to our country. She forced herself to look away, to look back down at her notepad. Where’s my pen? Oh, the irony. She glanced around the floor beside her to check if it had fallen once she’d been seated. It wasn’t there, and she huffed as she grabbed her bag to dig for a new one. She’d bought a new box of them when she’d gotten back to the States and had made a point to shove several in all of her cases and in her car. Determined to never need to borrow another pen ever again. Instinctively, she looked up, knowing her hand would land on one without much effort.

  As if he were her beacon, she looked to Owen. And froze.

  He stared right at her.

  Caitlin swallowed, locked in his hot gaze, instantly taken back to their time in the desert. She couldn’t look away now even if she wanted to, and she didn’t. She’d missed him so much since the last day she saw him…the day everything went to shit, and they’d been ripped apart by circumstance.

  He took a step, then another, slowly making his way to the stage without breaking eye contact just yet. She wanted to run to him and help him walk, but she knew beyond any doubt he’d hate her even more if she offered him any assistance. He was a strong man.

  He was a proud man.

  And now he was a disabled man. All because of her. She should look away, make this easier on him, but she couldn’t. Not yet. Because she knew once this ceremony was over, she would never see Owen Burrell again.

  Chapter One

  Three months ago.

  “You wanted to see me, sir?” Caitlin Cooper asked after knocking on her supervisor’s doorjamb. Jack Roper’s door stayed open when he was in the office, and if it wasn’t for him wearing a different set of clothes each day, Caitlin would wonder if the man actually ever went home. Not a week went by without him uttering the phrase, The news never sleeps. She figured he applied that rule to himself as much as possible.

  “Come in, Cooper.” Jack didn’t look up from the pile of papers on his desk. The man had four computer monitors spread out behind him, but he came from the era when pen and paper were the gold standard, even though their media was television and not written periodicals.

  She took a seat opposite him and placed her hands in her lap. She’d been on her way back from lunch when she’d gotten his message to see him immediately. There’d been no time to swing by her desk to retrieve her tablet to take any possible notes. Unlike her boss, Caitlin enjoyed the
use of modern technology.

  “You know hours ago the US conducted an airstrike utilizing the largest non-nuclear weapon in its arsenal.”

  Caitlin nodded. “They’re calling it the mother of all bombs.”

  “It’s a MOAB, Massive Ordnance Air Blast, but yeah.” He picked up a piece of paper and handed it to her. She took it and glanced down at the official press release regarding the strike.

  “Word is they took out ISIS tunnels and bunkers.”

  “You think there’s more they’re not saying.”

  Jack leveled his stare at her. “There’s always more that they’re not saying. Remember the Khataba raid? US special missions operators killed five civilians, including two pregnant women. NATO and the UN claimed to know nothing about it. Journalists dug in and discovered US JSOC operators were involved and removed the bullets from the bodies in an effort to cover up the mistake.”

  She remembered when the story broke. The local journalist had been detained. The military did not want the truth to get out and had spun some story about how the women had already been killed by insurgents sometime prior to the special ops arrival. Once the truth came out, the whole incident had led to an even bigger story. The unprecedented power of the JSOC—Joint Special Operators Command—shedding light on their drone and snatch, grab, assassinate programs. Caitlin could appreciate the complications of war. It was messy and gritty. She, like many other Americans, owed a debt of gratitude to the men and women fighting for their freedom and prayed for their safe return home. She understood there were covert units throughout all branches of the military and federal agencies. But this one? It was the only one that reported directly to the White House, making it a paramilitary arm of whatever administration was in office. An organization that handled the most sensitive counter-terrorism attacks all over the world, not just in active war zones. The revelation was shocking, and she figured more would come to light about the unit’s questionable authority. But, a year later, JSOC’s efforts led to the death of Osma Bin Laden, the most hated man in the world and founder of the al-Qaeda terrorist organization, effectively silencing critics and burying further stories.

  “I remember.”

  Jack sat back in his chair, staring at her. She wanted to squirm at his perusal, but she didn’t. She had a feeling he was assessing her for a reason. No way did she want to show any kind of weakness.

  “I need someone on the ground at Nangarhar. Initial reports are thirty-six casualties consisting of ISIS militants. Reconnaissance units are going in, so that number is sure to go up. I sent Harris last week to cover the bombing in Syria. The administration is facing heat with that decision since more reports are coming through that the US may have bombed a mosque. No way can I pull Harris off that assignment and send him to Afghanistan to cover the MOAB strike, which may have been better planned and not reveal any casualty cover-ups.”

  “You’re sending me.” It wasn’t a question. There was a reason he’d wanted to see her immediately rather than wait and discuss this tomorrow at the team’s daily status meetings when new assignments were discussed and assigned.

  “This will be your first assignment reporting outside the wire.”

  She nodded. She’d covered several stories in the Middle East over the last couple of years. It was still dangerous, but there’d been a certain amount of comfort reporting from inside the wired walls and heavily armed boundaries of the coalition base. A surge of nervous energy engulfed her, but she worked hard to regulate her breathing to keep her boss from noticing anything other than sheer determination to get the job done.

  “You fly out tonight and rendezvous with the camera man currently on rotation filming general footage of the war. If you find anything worth noting, you’ll film your story and submit your clip for airing. If it’s a hot story, you’ll get live coverage. Any questions?”

  She was reeling but totally ready. If she got the scoop on any military cover-up, it could propel her career. “No, sir.”

  “Good. Report to me once you arrive. Since you don’t have your notebook, I’ll email you the names of some of our contacts that’ll get you headed in the right direction.”

  Crap. She didn’t need him to think she walked around unprepared. “Just came back from lunch, sir. I’ll have my tablet on the ready.”

  “And your notebook. Never forget. The pen is mightier than the sword.”

  She seriously didn’t think the adage applied to war zones, but no way was she voicing that.

  He rose from his desk, extending his hand. She shook it. “Good luck.”

  “Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.”

  Caitlin hightailed it out of his office, digging for her phone as she made her way to her desk. She pulled up her contacts and called Allie Patterson, one of her oldest friends.

  “Hey, girl. Can’t wait to see you this weekend,” Allie said as way of answering the call.

  A twinge of regret stabbed at Caitlin. She hadn’t been back home to Montana in years. She and Allie got together from time-to-time when a favorite band was playing in a major city or one of their friends organized weekend getaways in Chicago. “About that,” she started slowly, hating she was going to have to cancel.

  “Oh no. I know that tone. And here I was just thinking if I can get away from my over protective brother for like two seconds, I’d give you the low-down on all the naughty girls’ night out stuff I’d planned.”

  She heard a distinctively male voice mutter something, and Caitlin knew Hank was probably hovering a little too close to Allie. There was a time that Caitlin would have dropped anything for a chance to be in the same room as Hank. But time changed things. He went into the military and moved off, which had been the time away for her little heart to focus on other boys. Not that Caitlin had time to date, but even if she did and was still interested in Hank, that man was head over heels for Hollywood star Sadie McClain. It was never meant to be. She never thought much about her insane crush these days, but she felt a heat creep up her throat at the sound of his voice. That heat had nothing to do with attraction and everything to do with the embarrassment of her younger years.

  “Caitlin?”

  “Huh?” she asked, realizing she’d zoned out for a few seconds and hadn’t heard what Allie had said.

  “I said, what’s the story about? Because I know you ditching plans has to be because of work.”

  She was at her desk now and started shoving things into her laptop case. “Sorry, yeah. I’m investigating the bomb that was just dropped in Afghanistan.”

  “Are you going to the bomb site?”

  “Yeah. The mother of all bombs is a story in and of itself, but there could be more.” She didn’t elaborate any. At this point, it was just speculation, and she has an ethical code not to spread misleading information.

  “But isn’t that dangerous? I mean, I know Afghanistan is dangerous anyway, but you’re going out to where they just dropped a bomb. It’s an active combat zone.”

  “Yeah, it’s dangerous, but I can’t focus on that. I have to fly out tonight.”

  “Tonight?” she squeaked. “Jeez. This is happening too fast. You need time to prepare before you go trotting off into a war zone—”

  “Caitlin.” But the voice coming through the phone now was no longer Allie’s. It was deep and authoritative. Her heartbeat stuttered and then kicked up. She figured it was because Hank startled her when he’d snapped her name.

  “Give me back my phone,” she heard Allie protest in the distance.

  “What’s your ETA in Afghanistan?” he asked her, ignoring his sister’s continued pleas in the background.

  “I-I don’t know. I fly out tonight. I imagine sometime tomorrow night, why?”

  “Who’s your contact?”

  “Um, I don’t know. I literally found out I’m leaving like thirty seconds ago. The information is being emailed to me as we speak. I’m loading up my computer now and then heading to my apartment to pack.”

  “Forward it to
me before you leave your office.”

  She paused, wondering where this stern attitude was coming from. “Why?” she asked, drawing the word out.

  “All the color drained out of Allie’s face when you told her where you were going, so she’s freaking out. And for good reason.”

  “I know she’s worried, but that still doesn’t tell me why you want to know.”

  He huffed, his frustration clearly coming through the cell signal. “Because I was a SEAL and still have some friends over there. They didn’t bring out the MOAB for something minor, and you’re heading right into the line of fire. Allie’s worried, and you’re like a sister to me. I want to make sure you’re safe.”

  You’re like a sister to me.

  At least he’d never come out and said those words when she was ogling him from across the room. They would have crushed her little infatuated heart. Now, she felt a different kind of warmth. He was worried for her safety and that deflated any argument she’d been building in her head.

  “Okay, Hank. I’ll send you the info. I’ll even check in with Allie.”

  “And your parents.”

  She sighed. Jeez, if her friend’s brother was acting this worried, she could only imagine how her dad was going to take this news. She’d already planned on calling them next. “Got it, Hank.”

  There would be no arguing with him. She might have been crushing on him as a boy and jumped to do whatever he said, but now he was hard man commanding authority and expecting compliance. He’d lived a lifetime long before the Brotherhood Protector bodyguard agency he created and before she grew up and tucked him neatly in the friend zone.

  He must’ve handed the phone back to Allie because it was her voice that came through next. “Please, be careful. Find some strong solider with guns hanging off every limb to protect you.”

  Caitlin wanted to chuckle at the image of that, but the muffled words of Hank, stopped her.