Page 13 of Deadly Obsession
The 3rd Battalion 6th Marines was part of a massive operation to retake the city from the Taliban forces. My company was inserted in the first wave of helicopters in the northern part. The sun hadn’t even come up and yet thousands of Marines alongside British and Canadian forces were converging on all sides from the ground and air. Building by building, street by street.
That was the first time I killed a man. My squad had cleared multiple buildings already. I’d fired plenty of shots but it was anyone’s guess who’d hit the targets.
We were currently stacked outside another door. Lance Corporal Salinas was the first to enter and cross the room. Private Johnson was the second. As infantry Marines, we’d trained constantly. Practiced how to clear rooms, enter danger zones, and breach a building.
Rule number one: If the first man crosses straight, the second man is meant to button hook, U-turning into the room to clear the corner opposite the Marine before him.
Rule number two: Once the squad starts pouring in, you don’t stop; you get in fast and hard.
Johnson forgot rule number one. If he hadn’t, he likely would havespotted the hostile hiding in the corner behind the dresser. He didn’t and caught multiple 7.62 rounds to the back, dropping instantly.
As the third man, I saw Johnson—aka Scarecrow—go the wrong way. And out of my peripherals, I watched him start to go down. Everything seemed to blur in that moment. I didn’t even remember hearing the sound of the AK-47 going off. I just remembered turning the corner and spotting a man with a rifle in his hands. And I remembered pressing the trigger once, maybe twice, but that was all.
A second later, it seemed I was straddling a stranger on the ground, his blood soaking through the trousers of my uniform from multiple holes in his chest. He wasn’t dead, though. His eyes looked up into mine. Wide and afraid and glossy. That was when I realized my hands were wrapped around his throat, the full weight of my body pressing down on my arms. On his neck.
I think I heard screaming from behind me, someone yelling for a corpsman and maybe calling out “Samuel,” Johnson’s first name. I pressed harder on the man’s throat and felt a pop and snap, and suddenly he went limp. And then a hand appeared on my shoulder, shaking me.
“Mustang! James!”
“James! What the fuck, mate!” a male voice yelled, a pair of hands pulling me back by the shoulders. Off Robert and not the stranger in my mind.
I spun on my boots, cocking an arm. Only to stop when my eyes settled on the light-skinned, ginger-haired figure of Brian, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. The sound of hard coughing and wheezing had me looking down and shoving Brian’s hands away. Creating some distance as I slammed my boot on Robert’s flat hand on the floor when he tried to push himself upright.
“James!” Brian yelled again as Robert cried out in pain.
I held up a hand to silence them. “Bastard tried druggingLyndsey just now. Poured something into her cup. Luckily, I saw it before she had the chance to drink it.”
Brian paused and looked at me, then down at Robert. “Fucking hell, that’s why you knocked her drink over. Knew you weren’t snookered.”
I nodded and returned my attention to Robert. Stepping in front of him, I grabbed him by the collar and landed one more right hook. Sending a tooth flying across the floor this time. “I’m not going to let you ruin this trip for the girls, so I’m not going to kill you and I’m not going to tell them what a fucking piece of shit you are… yet. You are going to get up, grab your shit from the room, jump in your car, and get the fuck out of here. Now. Am I clear?” I said, allowing my spit to splatter over his face.
He shook his head slowly, and I could tell from the way his eyes were moving that he was disoriented. “My… my guitar,” he muttered, blood trickling down from where his tooth had been.
“You had a family emergency and forgot to grab it. You aren’t going anywhere near those women. That’s my guitar now.” Standing, I looked to Brian and then towards the closed sliding glass door that was vibrating from the music playing outside. Chances were the girls didn’t hear anything. “Brian, go back out there. Bring Lyndsey a Long Island. If they ask about me or Robert, say we are having a guy chat.”
Brian nodded, glancing at Rob’s bloodied face, then stumbled over to the kitchen, where he made Lyndsey’s drink before heading back outside.
“Let’s go, asshole,” I said as I dragged Robert to his feet and shoved him towards the bedroom to grab his things. I was going to make sure he left.
EIGHT
ROBERT
“Stupid fucking hick-ass cowboy. Fucking cockblock is what he is. Bitch-ass Texan. Fuck him!” I cursed under my breath, having realized James was nowhere in sight.
The man had been hounding me like Uncle Sam, not letting me even so much as take a piss or wash the blood from my face. He’d shoved me all the way down the hall to grab my belongings. Rushing me.
He’d given me thirty seconds. Then anything not in my bag stayed. When I’d argued, he’d pressed a freakishly large knife against my throat, like the one Rambo had. James never talked about what he did in the military, but I didn’t doubt he’d killed before and would again if I pushed my luck.
Staggering up to my car, I looked around for James but he was nowhere in sight. My hand reached for the button that would open the trunk and froze halfway. “I should go back there. Round the house and tell the ladies James went mad. Accuse him of telling me to stay away from Lyndsey, claim that he wanted her and Sera to himself,” I grumbled.
Then the chill of the mountain air hit my incredibly sensitive bleeding gums and busted face. With that thought, I opened the trunk and tossed my backpack inside before unzippingit to make sure I had my drugs. I grabbed an edible and popped it into my mouth.
Feeling defeated, I moved around, dropped into the driver’s seat, and slammed the door shut. “Wouldn’t even let me grab my guitar. What does he care if I fuck Lyndsey…? Bastard is fucking that British whore anyway.”
I placed my phone in its holder and started up the car. Then, seeking to improve my headspace, I reached into the center console and pulled out a baggie. One short dip of my little pocket knife and two snorts later and I was already feeling better. After a quick burnout, I was driving away from the cabin.
Fuck them.
