Page 1 of Indirect Attack
Chapter 1
Ben
Seven Years Before
I DROPPED ONTO MY BEDand sprawled back, staring at the ceiling of a home that was familiar and not familiar at the same time. The recognition was jarring after I’d spent so many weeks staring at the water-stained ceiling above my bunk at Basic Training.
Fifteen weeks ago, I’d been sitting on this same bed, my hair longer, my muscles softer, facing my father as he prepared me for the Marines. Even still, the unending days of drills, training, and running had been exhausting in every way possible. There had been moments when I’d nearly given up—a few guys had actually packed it in and gone home.
But none of the people there had Miro Rusev as a father. As difficult as Basic had been, with a Major General for a father, I’d been far more prepared since I’d grown up in a milder version of living in the armed forces.
It didn’t mean I wasn’t dog-tired, every muscle aching. It didn’t mean I hadn’t thought about giving up and going home. It didn’t mean I wanted to go back. But growing up in my family, a job other than being in the Army, Navy, Air Force, or anything else wasn’t an option.
My oldest brother Triton had joined the Navy and was well on his way to becoming a Navy SEAL, as he’d always wanted. My second-oldest brother Hermes, who we called Herman, was in the Air Force. And I knew my younger brother Sam would join the Army as soon as he graduated from high school.
So here I was, a Marine, my hair shorn so short it itched, my muscles screaming at me, home for just a short time until I had to return.
“Hey.”
I rolled my head to the side to find Herman lounging against the doorframe, his well-muscled arms crossed over his broad chest. He’d always been big but had bulked up considerably since joining the Air Force. The only one bigger was Sam, a bear of a kid who was a senior in high school and already had Herman beat on the muscle front.
“What?” I asked, annoyed he’d intruded on my solitude. Herman had changed from his sweats and muscle tank into jeans and a T-shirt, which was never a good sign.
I’d already played touch football with them this morning when all I wanted to do was sit in my room and read the books I’d missed in Basic. But my brother had guilted me into it. It was the usual, that same sob story about how from now on, we’d rarely get together like this, and didn’t I want to spend special time with my brothers when we didn’t know when—or if—we’d see each other again instead of burying myself in my books? He’d said books would always be there, but brothers might not. That had finally got me up off my bed—still reluctantly—to play what was supposed to be touch football, but rarely ever ended up that way. I had the bruises to prove it.
“C’mon.” Herman jerked his head in the direction of the hallway. “We’re going out.”
“You’re going out,” I replied, turning my head to stare at the ceiling again. “I’m staying right here.”
“Aww, c’mon, Ben.” Herman’s tone took on the same wheedling tenor he’d used to get me to play football. “You’re not here for very long, and neither is Tri. Me too, I’m heading out as soon as my leave is up. Mom’s gone for the day, so let’s make the most out of it.”
I sighed and dragged myself up, meeting my brother’s gaze, blue eyes the same color as the ones I saw in the mirror every day. “Where are you going?”
You, not we. I wasn’t going to agree to go—not yet.
“Clubbing. I know a great place in DC. Tri and Sam are up for it.”
“I never said I was up for it. I just said I’d go out.” The deeper baritone came from my oldest brother, Triton, looming just behind Herman, his athletic build giving him an inch of height over all of us. “And you do realize Ben and Sam are both underage?”
“So?” Herman shrugged, barely sparing Tri a glance. “I told you it’s a great club. Even if Ben has a babyface, Sam looks like he’s older than you. Not going to be a problem.”
I’d already guessed that “great club” in my older brother’s lexicon meant they didn’t check IDs too carefully. Drinks were probably cheap, and the women were looking for a guy who wore a uniform.
“I’m not interested,” I said, shaking my head. In fact, I couldn’t think of something I was less interested in than loud music and a crowded bar where dancing equaled grinding on each other until you had to find a bathroom with a lock on it. “Going to leave that one to you guys.”
Herman’s face screwed up, and I could hear his following words before he even said them. “Aww, come on, Ben. Don’t you—”
“Ben!” Sam’s growl came from downstairs, saving me the trouble of hearing the rest of Herman’s plea.
“What?” I shouted back.
“Jaz is here,” came the reply.
I was up and out of the room in a second, pushing past my brothers so I could lean over the railing to look down to the first floor.
Sam was standing in the entryway beside a slim young woman. My younger brother looked annoyed, but a bright smile lit up the woman’s face. I felt my heart flip at the sight, warmth spreading through me, and I almost tumbled down the steps in my hurry to get to her, ignoring the snickers behind me.
“Jasmine,” I said, also ignoring Sam’s expressive eyeroll, glad he was standing behind her so the woman couldn’t see it.
