Boots, Chaps, and Cowboy Hats (Taming Team Ten (Book One))

  “Fuck you, Wolfman,” Alex laughed and swiped his hand away. Frank was called “Wolfman” because he had the most hellaciously hairy back. His non-regulation longer dark hair and green eyes was a serious draw to most women. Some would call him ruggedly handsome, but his teammates called him obnoxious.

  “Status?” Frank asked.

  Alex was one of two specialized Technicians assigned to SEAL Team TEN, Mark was the other one, who was currently checking the ear wicks making sure they were functioning; sand did some weird shit to their equipment sometimes.

  Making sure they were functioning was imperative; if they had to go quiet, a series of taps was all they could us to communicate. The wicks were sensitive and could pick up the smallest sound.

  He looked into the living room where several of the guys sat, their stuff spread out on the coffee table and side tables. It was normal to see a gun sitting on the table in this place. The team leader Lt Thane “LC” Crete was sitting on the edge of the couch, loading his magazines with bullets. He was the serious type. His brown hair matched the goatee he sported along with what most would call silver-gray eyes, which seemed to pierce through you when he stared. He was intense. Alex wasn't sure at first if the man even liked him, or if he even liked anyone. Turned out it was just the way he was.

  Next to him on the couch was Brian “Frogman” Lipit, he was called Frogman because the man could swim like a fucking fish and he could jump out of the water and land on his feet, ready for action. He was the QRF, his mind worked a little differently than most, when they were doing Recon, he could tell you who and what was needed to take the target with one look. They would plan their strategy around it. The stand out in the group, he had copper hair and green eyes, which worked if they were in Ireland, but here he stood out like a sore thumb, which is why he was currently sporting black hair with his pale skin, they teased him that he looked like a Vampire, all he needed was glitter on his skin. Frog didn’t think it was funny.

  At the other end of the couch was Mason “Voodoo” Patrick, he was from Louisiana, and carried a small voodoo doll in his waistband. No one messed with his superstition. His mother gave him the doll before he came into the military, telling him she placed a spell of protection on it. The damn thing went everywhere with him, and no one said a word—the man was huge. His long jet-black hair and blue eyes added to his mystery. More than one woman had been drawn to the mysterious look he had going on. Men seemed to give him a wide berth when they were in public because of his size.

  “Making sure the diagrams of the building are accurate when they load to the wristbands,” Alex said absently. This is what his did besides being a sharpshooter like the rest of the team. Each member of the unit had wristbands that looked like a watch until they pushed a button on the side. Then it became their COM unit, diagrams, Infar Red technology, tracking signals, and so many other things were on the small device.

  “Cool,” Wolfman said and then Emo came into the room. Mark “Emo” Plater was the other Intel officer. He was holding the ear wick they would be using. He got his name Emo, because one night when they were drinking, the man started crying in his beer about a chick. After that, they teased him about being all touchy-feely. The guy was like a big ass teddy bear, but deadly at the same time. His brown hair hung around his ears and was curly, the hazel eyes made him almost forgettable, he blended in well anywhere they went.

  “Dude, one of the wicks is down,” Emo said absently and Alex took the piece, held up a finger to his friend, and walked into the kitchen. The rest of the men were in there, guns, and equipment spread over the counters, and tables.

  “Master Chief” Gage Loman, was standing over the radio talking quietly to the JOC, they were trying to make sure their plan was accepted. There was a small window in which to catch this guy, even though he was predictable. Gage was also the team manwhore; the woman he was seeing was the last in a long line of women and the topic of conversation currently going on in the living room. If asked all of them would say it was his charming smile, blonde hair and blue eyes. He looked like a traditional surfer, and had the attitude to match, everyone loved being around him. He was the center of attention when they went out. Gage’s woman had sent an email with some pictures that he accidently opened in front of the guys. At least they were distracted. They would need to move before the asshole terrorist changed his mind.

  Ted “Raider” Farat was sitting at the table. He was the COM specialist, and the brand new father of a bouncing baby girl. His wife sent the message she was in labor seven days ago, they all waited around the computer while the hospital Skype them updates. Finally, the tiny little bundle had appeared in the screen and the guys had all turned to mush. The baby had his dishwater blonde hair and green eyes, she also had his narrow face and nose. It was too bad really; they had teased the muscular man, which allowed him to kick a few of them on their asses.

  “Do you have another one we can use, this one is dead?” Alex asked and Ted nodded absently as he tucked the picture of his wife into his pocket like normal, he pointed to the container sitting next to Jessie “Ice” James the other COM specialist.

  His mother loved old movies and named him after the legend Jessie James, but he earned his nickname Ice for being cool under pressure. They all thought he looked like the famous cowboy, he had the rounder face, and brown hair that he slicked back, his dark brown eyes were compared to chocolate by women, and he was soft spoken, and more often than not, a chick magnet like MC. Even though he was the COM specialist, he was also their Sniper. Jessie reached into the box, pulled a new ear wick out, and threw it to him. Alex caught it with one hand, threw the other one back absently, and Drake “Lobo” Viser snatched it out of the air laughing.

  Lobo was the comedian of the group. He earned his nickname by howling after every mission. “Gotta be faster than the normal guy, Ice, buck up little cowboy, you will get it soon,” he said and laughed when Ice took a swing at him and he ducked. “Man, your reflex’s are really off, dude.” Lobo sported almost white hair and gray eyes and looked a little like the dude from the show on cable about sexy hot vampires. He was reed thin, and hid his muscles well.

  John “Dagwood” Marse opened the refrigerator and pulled out a huge sub sandwich, they always had one on hand for him, and he didn't share—it was the only thing he ate. Dagwood was so thin and wiry though, no one would guess he ate the huge sandwiches every day. His dark brown hair and pale blue eyes reminded them all of the cartoon, he just refused to wear the same high-water pants, though much to all their chagrin.

  Sam “Clipper” Roge groaned as Alex waked out and yelled, “Dude, really, you have to eat right now?” Clipper was the youngest man on the team. His call sign came from their first day of training. Clipper walked into the Barber Shop with long hair, and came out bald—holding his golden locks. The men laughed and told him to suck it up, and gave him the call sign Clipper. His bright green eyes were warm and inviting and attracted the younger crowd.

  Alex walked back into the small dining area he had been in and tossed the new ear wick to Emo then he looked at Wolfman and grinned. “Q is going to have to send us with more shit next time.”

  The men nodded and went back to what they were doing. Alex put his Bowie in its sheath; the knife was a present from Rex, his half-brother. Alex thought of these men as family as well.

  The team was close, like a band of brothers who had been separated at birth, anticipating each other’s thoughts and action. It was creepy sometimes, but training with these men for the last three years, eating, sleeping, living all in a tight barracks was what made them the team they were—Elite Special Forces SEAL Team TEN.

  “Yeah, just checking to make sure we have the Intel, and my shit is together,” Alex said.

  “Yeah Boyscout, that is why you have that call sign.” Frank laughed.

  Out of all of the guys, Frank and Alex had been through the entire training together, coming in to the Seals at the same time and in the same class. Hell
, Frank had even come home with him on leave a few times.

  “Always fucking prepared, Wolfman.” Alex laughed.

  “You hungry?” Frank asked and threw Alex a Granola Bar.

  Alex grabbed it out of the air and then continued to get his gear together as he ate the small bite size snack that would at least make sure his stomach didn’t warn the enemy they were there.

  “Dude,” Frank said uncomfortably.

  “What,” Alex said absently before stopping when his friend fell into silence.

  “Letter,” Frank said and pulled out an envelope.

  “What the fuck, we don’t talk about that shit before a mission, man, we already settled this.” Alex glared at his friend; it was bad luck to talk about their death letters before a mission.

  “No, man, I have to take some time off when we are done here, I am just saying, in case something happens, I have something that needs to be taken care of, something I need your help with. I was gonna talk to you when we were done, but just in case,” Frank said and shoved the envelope in his side pants pocket, patted his leg, and looked at Alex expectantly.

  “Sure, what do you need help with?” Alex asked and frowned but returned to what he was doing.

  “Later, just remember man, I trust you,” Frank said and left the room.

  Frank never talked about home, Alex knew his parents were killed when he was young and he only had one sister. They grew up in foster homes, and weren't close. Something had to be seriously going on if he was asking Alex for help. It just wasn’t something Frank talked about—ever.

  Chapter One

  “Status?” OIC said quietly and focused on the building they had watched for the last week. Their Target was in there, they knew it, and he came like clockwork.

  Alex looked around and waited. They called for Champagne, which was two teams in front—one behind. Alex was the leader of the team on the right, he and three men were situated where they would enter the building and take the right set of stair to the second floor, then the other ones would take the left set with the other team covering from behind.

  “Green,” the quiet voices started announcing and Alex waited.

  There was a pause, and they waited for their final okay for the mission. The man they had been searching for had been verified as being in an apartment on the second floor. Their mission was to grab the man; he was responsible for the death of a lot of people, sitting in this hovel directing terrorist attacks around the world. The Intel said he had a woman he visited in the building.

  There was a little movement but not much, it was dusk and they were going into the building at the most opportune time. Alex was watching out of the corner of his eye at the surrounding people who seemingly were innocently strolling. They were waiting for 1800 hours, when most of the people were off the street.

  “Irene, I repeat, Irene," their leader said clearly, which meant they had the go to do the mission. Now it was a matter of waiting for the correct time. Alex tapped on his watch and looked at the specs of the building. He knew it like the back of his hand, but Alex was compulsive about planning and Intel.

  “Heads Up,” he heard their leader say. It was almost time, the sun was setting, from now on, the communication would only be hand signals, they were going dark since the smallest noise could draw attention to them, and that wasn’t what they wanted right now.

  Alex watched and LC held up a fist, it meant hold up. Alex watched as a group of men came around the corner, they waited for them to pass and then the first team began to walk swiftly toward the entrance of the building. They were halfway across the street when Alex saw him.

  The lone man walked with determination, Alex tapped the ear wick three times, and all of the men froze and walked to the side. They saw the man too, coming around the edge of the corner where Alex and his team were.

  The man walked to the front of the building they were breaching and stopped, he grinned and looked around, his eyes stopping on each of his team members. Alex didn’t have time to react as the man opened his arms wide and lifted them to the sky, that’s when he saw the bomb strapped to the man's stomach and stood up and yelled, “Joker!”

  The man pressed something on his chest and laughed—the explosion rocked the street.

  Fuck, a suicide bomber tried to take them out. How had they known?

  The fucking pain was intense, Alex needed to get the fuck off the street and find the rest of the team. When he had called out "Joker," they were supposed to spate and meet back at the apartment.

  Alex had felt shrapnel hitting him and could only see the dust and flame shooting from the front of the building. He was thrown back against the car that had been sitting on the street.

  The team of twelve men had been in a shit place when the bomb had gone off. Alex had given the signal that everything was clear when he saw the man out of the corner of his eye. It had all been going according to plan—until then.

  The street was deserted except for a few of the undesirables who hung out in the neighborhood. Team TEN blended in though, each of them growing scruffy beards and their skin tanned from being in the sun, then add in the native clothes, they could pass as locals from a distance, even though underneath they had on black cargo pants, and black t-shirts. It was hot, humid, and uncomfortable, but the men didn’t seem to notice it, they had been trained for this. How could this have happened? How did they spot them? That muther fucker knew they were coming.

  Damn it, they did what was expected and scattered, but he didn’t like it, what if there were snipers waiting to pick them off. Alex pulled his hand away from his stomach and grimaced when it was covered in blood. He leaned against the wall, shit, his gut was bleeding, and there were at least two or three pieces of shrapnel in his leg. He tapped his ear wick to see if anyone answered, when it remained silent, Alex grimaced, shit, that hurt too, his ears were ringing.

  He looked up and down the street, of course, no one was out, those who had been were now at the bombsight watching in horror or glee, others were holed up in their homes too terrified to come out. A few men rushed past him screaming in loud voices to other men who were on the other side of the street. One man stopped and said something; Alex just shook his head and pushed away. He needed to move.

  Locking the pain out of his mind, he limped to the end of the street, holding an arm across his bloodied stomach, before stopping and looking around the corner. He should have three blocks to go, one up and two to the left.

  Gritting his teeth, he walked and thought about the years since he had been adopted. Alone and cocky; life prior to his adoption had been lonely. Alex was never too good with making friends, but all that changed when they found him. They gave him a family, a purpose, and most importantly—unconditional love, something he missed growing up.

  He could picture his brothers and sisters, young and old, sitting around the table with his parents for the last meal he had with them three months ago. Damn, his adoptive mom was gonna kick his ass when she found out about this. Another block, Alex thought, and looked around the corner again. He was closer to the bombing site again, just walking in a large box behind the scene. There were sirens, lights, and a ton of people, and he needed to make sure that he was invisible.

  Taking a deep breath, Alex slipped around the corner, three doorways, and then slipped inside. Hopefully everyone else was already there. His thoughts were jumbled, the explosion caused a concussion, he knew the signs. He was repeating the same thoughts, over and over, not able to concentrate. Almost there.

  The door to the building was open, he could see drops of blood on the floor, shit, someone else was hurt. They needed to get the fuck out of dodge, but with this many people around, it could be difficult.

  Alex shoved his way down the hallway and grimaced when the pain began to slam home, he was almost safe, which was a good thing, since his body was going into shock. He had to remain conscious long enough to make sure his team was safe.

  He knocked on the door softly and lean
ed against the door jam, waiting a moment, he knocked softly again in the code they set up prior. When the door swung open, he leaned forward and fell in, catching himself at the last second before falling to the ground.

  “Boyscout,” the man who opened the door gasped and he looked up. His vision was getting fuzzy on the side.

  “Here, Master Chief,” Alex said.

  “Shit, LC, Alex is back and down,” his Senior Officer said and grabbed ahold of Alex. Blood littered the floor along with towels and napkins. “Hang on, we are getting the fuck out of here.”

  Alex gasped as he dropped to the floor, this fucking hurt. “Who's back?” he asked.

  “We lost Frogman, Raider, Emo, Clipper, Dagwood, and Wolfman. Everyone else is back; you were the last—everyone else—wounded. This was a cluster fuck,” the Master Chief said and Alex looked up.

  The anger in the room was palatable. Wolfman gone, no way? The man was invincible. They had been through too much together. Wolfman always had his back.

  His leader had blood on his shoulder while holding a towel to his leg as well. Master Chief had been standing across the street on the other side, a mirror image of Alex. Fuck, they had all been injured. Wait, Alex thought about the men who they said didn’t make it back, were they still there? Did Alex need to go back and search—he would not leave anyone behind.

  The last thing Alex remembered was hearing his leader barking into the radio, asking medical personnel to be prepared. He listened to his friends and teammates’ list of injuries, then he gave the coordinate to find the bodies of their fallen team members.

  NO! Alex screamed in his head as he thought about his friends, brothers, and teammates.

  Damn, he hurt all over. Apparently he was alive though, he would not feel like this if he were dead, that was for sure. Think, what happened? Mission, bomb, where the hell was he?

  He moaned as he moved his finger, well that was not a good sign, only moving a finger and he was moaning.