Axle: A Military Bad Boy Mercenary Romance (The Bang Shift Book 5) Read online

  Copyright © 2020 by Mandy Harbin

  AXLE

  ISBN: 978-1-941467-34-3

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Edited by Brieanna Robertson

  Cover Art by Najla Qamber

  This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any existing means without written permission from Mandy Harbin, M.W. Muse, Penning Princess Publishing, or Mandolin Park, LLC.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The characters are products of the author's imagination and used fictitiously.

  For more information, please join Mandy Harbin’s Newsletter!

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  Also by Mandy Harbin

  About the Author

  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 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 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 Arkansas 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. She learned that night how important it was to get to know her cameraman because he—or she—could become a necessary lifeline in this business. But more importantly, the encounter that night had oddly given her the kick in the pants to leave the comfort of her home state and reach for her dreams. She figured 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 Arkansas.

  If she was ballsy, she would go over to the scumbag politician now and thank him. Of course, he wouldn’t be able to see it for the sarcasm it was.

  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 Hunter Anderson. 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 Hunter 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 Hunter’s sister, Heather, 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 Hunter did nothing to her anymore. Her racing heart and sweaty palms were because of the man standing next to him.

  Axle.

  Axle Landry. 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 again. Instinctively, she looked up, knowing her hand would land on one without much effort.

  As if he was her beacon, she looked to Axle. And froze.

  He stared right at her.

  Caitlin swallowed, locked in his hot gaze, instantly taken back to other times he’d looked at her just as intensely but for a completely different reason. 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. A former SEAL injured in the prime of his life. The career he carefully nurtured for so many years completely obliterated.

  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, that would be it. Any silly hope she’d clung to would be gone. She’d be back in Atlanta, and he’d be he
re, getting used to his new, unwanted life.

  After today, she would never see Axle Landry 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 air strike 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 Osama 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 cameraman 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. Any advice?”

  “The details could be anywhere. Leave no stone unturned. Think like a source and become the story.”

  “Thanks. I won’t let you down.”

  Caitlin high-tailed it out of his office, digging for her phone as she made her way to her desk. She pulled up her contacts and called Heather Anderson, one of her oldest friends.

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

  A twinge of regret stabbed at Caitlin. She hadn’t been home to Arkansas in years and hadn’t made an effort to see Heather since she’d moved back. She and Heather got together from time-to-time when a favorite band was playing in a major city or one of their mutual friends organized weekend getaways in Chicago or Vegas. When Heather was attending college in Dallas, Caitlin flew out there a few times to meet up. Although life had taken her in another direction, she loved it when she got to see Heather, so she hated she was going to have to cancel this visit. “About that,” she started slowly.

  “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 Hunter was probably hovering a little too close to Heather. There was a time that Caitlin would have dropped anything for a chance to be in the same room as him. But time changed things. He’d moved off, which had given the time for her little heart to focus on other boys. Not that Caitlin had time to date now, but even if she did and was still interested in Hunter, that man was head over heels for Heather’s current BFF, Maya Carmichael. Ironic, he ended up falling for a friend of Heather’s, and Caitlin wasn’t it. Oh well, 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 Heather 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 had 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 Heather’s. It was deep and authoritative. Her heartbeat stuttered and then kicked up. She figured it was because Hunter startled her when he’d snapped her name.

  “Give me back my phone,” she heard Heather 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.”