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PTSD is a real and difficult thing that affects so many people. Jacob Paul Patchen explores it in his suspenseful military novel No Pistol Tastes the Same. Read an exclusive excerpt and then follow the tour for more after you download your copy. Best of luck in the giveaway!
Monte Carlo at night turned Monaco into a jewel. Nadia loved it.
Their group made their way along the elegant pathway between the hotels. Nadia somehow had been paired with Mitch while Jade kept her distance at the back of the pack.
Peering at the man at her side, Nadia admitted his soldiery bearing turned him into a first-rate British gentleman when he dressed up. A prince he was not, but damn!
“We’ll enter through the front,” Jo said in their invisible earwigs. “Jade, follow Nadia and Mitch in through the patio entrance and head up to the balcony.”
Nadia paused at the side door leading to the Hotel de Paris patio and turned to Jo. “Don’t forget to dance, prima. Just don’t outshine everyone.”
The ex-ballerina made a face as she and Lincoln continued on. Jo wore a classy green sleeved dress that flowed around her lithe body and brought out the color in her eyes. Matched with Lincoln in his tux, those two made such a cute pair.
Putting on a beaming smile, Nadia turned to the man at her side and held out her hand. “Shall we?”
Jade, wearing the dragon-inspired black pantsuit, passed them entering the patio. “Watch it, Jackie-boy, that’s more than jewelry she’s wearing.”
Nadia shushed her friend. “You’re not supposed to give out trade secrets.”
Jade’s chuckle faded away.
Sighing, Mitch took her hand and gestured for her to join him. They strolled along the gleaming pathway of the Hotel de Paris patio.
“Just what are you hiding all over your body?” he asked.
“Many things. Jade’s right—most of it looks like jewelry.”
“Let’s see if I can recall your arsenal from past missions. There was a leg chain you wore on your left thigh doubling as a garrote. Some rings that held anything from a poisoned pin to a drop of toxin.”
Nadia swept aside the dark blue gauzy material of her dress to reveal the leg chain. “Interesting you know about that.”
Mitch gripped the door handle to the lobby and nodded as he opened the door. “I know plenty, Nadia,” he said in a soft voice.
The huskiness made her quiver. Good God, how did he do that to her?
Strains of instrumental music filled the lobby, pouring from the Salle Empire. Nadia let the music drown the sudden urge to be attracted to this man. Mission mode.
Their dress shoes clicked against the hotel’s polished tile. Succulent scents of seared meat and savory vegetables drew them into the ballroom. Large vases of tropical flowers graced stands all about the room. The low lighting helped draw the eye to the glittering ceiling. Nadia’s skin tingled at the finery adorning the room, from the guests, to the wait staff, to the ballroom itself. This was her scene.
“What do you mean you have to quit this week? Like tomorrow?”
Commander Zayden “Zed” Wellesley rubbed the back of his neck in aggravation. Not for the first time, Zed wondered why the good Lord would give him three incredible children but take their mother away long before she raised them. He was an elite member of the military, a Navy SEAL. It was typical to divorce at least once and often more times before suffering the loss of a spouse. For seven years, he’d been one of the lucky ones.
The military had trained him to respond in every contingency, except the loss of his wife. There was no training to prepare you for that disaster, no SOP manual written to address it. Likely because there were no standard operating procedures when handling the inexplicable pain that followed that devastating loss.
“Yes. I’m sorry, but they accepted me at John Hopkins University for the nuclear biology program. Someone dropped out. I can use my scholarships, making it affordable, but I have less than two weeks to get it all together, sir.”
“Right, meaning you’ll be here tomorrow, and that’s it. Well, we need more scientists, so you’d better go. All right, kiddo, do you have any suggestions for a replacement?” he asked as he raked fingers through his military-style hair, glancing around his semi-clean kitchen trying to think.
“I wanted to tell you first, sir, then I would check for a replacement.”
“Okay, thanks and congratulations!”
“Thank you, sir. And… I’m sorry.”
Zed rubbed his face in frustration before picking up the phone in his office to dial the base, waiting for his friend and co-worker to answer.
“Mason.”
“Hey, it’s me, Zed. What’s your Commander calendar look like today?”
“Sounds serious.”
“Could be, but not urgent…”
“… Good til two. Let’s grab some chow.” He [Mason] paused, “unless it’s classified?”
“It’s personal, tied to work. My personal life ceased to be classified the moment I had to parent my family alone. I’m starving.” [Zed]
Zayden ordered a drink and an appetizer. He’d done plenty of these types of ‘cushy’ missions following the target to nice places, infiltrating their lives as necessary, and then do the adjustment. Whatever that entailed for each job. He wouldn’t need an exfil to handle tonight’s little caper. He’d wait until they left and then follow her home to make sure the obviously over-zealous Craig kept his body parts separate from hers.
Alesha was ill at ease. As she appeared to listen to her date’s conversation, her body language screamed unease. Zed had already noted she’d removed her hand from her companion’s intruding one several times. They had ordered dinner. The service was faster than he’d expected, and they received their dinner soon after his own plate arrived. Alli was handling it well so far, so Zed refrained from making himself known and shaking the man’s hand with a little strategic twist.
Zed put down his dinner fork, preparing to intervene after the man took her fork and ate the morsel of food on it. Alesha stood. Atta girl. Zed was about to call for his check when Alli asked the waitress something, and with a nod, the woman handed her another fork. She was staying. Damn it, Alli. The woman didn’t know when to leave. Something he wanted to fix.
This Craig guy was no gentleman. Zed figured he would help him with his manners. He considered following up his rescue with a lesson in personal safety, but something told him Alesha knew exactly what she was accepting tonight. Why had she done it? Was it because of what Jenn had said, she was lonely?
Zed silently approached the couple and heard the next part of the conversation.
“What the hell,” whispered Alli. “Would you keep your hands to yourself and just eat your dinner? I should never have said yes.”
“Thought you wouldn’t mind since we’re spending the night together. We’ll be sharing more than food later.” Craig shrugged and took a bite of his own food. “You agreed to come out with me, to the most expensive restaurant in town, and to the party afterward. That’s full disclosure and agreement.”
“When hell freezes over.” As Alli pulled her napkin from her lap to toss on the table, his free hand reached out and grabbed her wrist. Craig spoke with a barely subdued snarl. “It’s polite to wait until all parties are finished with dinner before you excuse yourself.”
A deep voice, full of dangerous, silk overlaid steel, blanketed the table. “Alesha, sweetheart. I’m glad I found you.”
I’d been a hairdresser for over a decade--even when Jake and I moved from base to base, I could always find work, and it was the same sounds, no matter what salon I worked in. All the traveling made the familiar environment more home than anything I had for a long time.
Stepping around the corner, my hand bumped the little patriotic flag table topper that sat on the edge of the reception desk. Mom put it there when I married Jake--it was the only patriotic decoration that remained up year round. Now, though, it had other accompanying red, white and blue pieces that filled the reception area, even though Fourth of July was last weekend.
The receptionist, Mikelanne rubbed her ready to pop, pregnant tummy and gestured to the man who stared at the retail shelves near the door with a grin on her face.
I paused.
The guy was in fatigues.
He turned around, and had his hat in his hand. Immediately my eyes darted to his shoulder, and recognized the stripes for Sergeant, First Class.
My heart pounded.
A man in fatigues hadn’t come to see me since, well… that day...
I had to force myself to cross the reception area. This wasn’t a repeat. It couldn’t be…
I met the Sergeant’s eyes.
He took a step. “Mrs. Bettes?”
I nodded. “Sergeant.” Somewhere my insides jumped into gear. I held out my hand, and he shook it.
“I, uh,” he paused, closed his eyes for a second, and then opened them. “I came to pay my respects.”
I blinked, then my brain kicked in. “Of course, thank you.” Why else would a man in fatigues be visiting me?
He squeezed the hat in his hand. “May I speak with you, privately?”
She needs his protection almost as much as she needs his heart...
Platinum stalked toward the car. What could have happened to Kent? Young children with grandmothers who wouldn’t let them eat anything with red dye number five in it—he knew because it was a fact Tony presented him with at the last meeting—didn’t simply disappear in such a way where professional private eyes couldn’t find them. His danger radar went off in a big way.
“Stop it.” Copper grabbed his arm. “Whatever happened in there, whatever you need to get done, you can’t run off and not tell Chrome or Steele where you’re going. Fuck it, Platinum, you’ve been trained better.”
“It’s personal.”
She shook her head. Copper was the strongest, toughest woman he’d ever known. Why she decided to make friends with him when most everyone else left him to his own devices never ceased to puzzle him. Cooper and Mercury were thicker than thieves, only whatever relationship those two shared—or didn’t—he wouldn’t pretend to understand. Copper had gone and fallen in love with someone other than Merc and everyone seemed okay with it.
“Yes. And?” She wasn’t going to let it go.
“I have a kid.” He could hardly mutter the words. A year of impossibly long days passed since he’d thought about The Boy let alone told anyone, even the people he trusted with his life, about Kent’s existence.
“I think you’d better go see Poppy. Whatever it is, you can’t hide it from the uppity-ups. Whatever happened, it’s only going to make things harder.”
Damn it. He hated when she was right.
Plat wasn’t going to find Kent if Tony hadn’t been able to, not without resources his team could provide. They usually worked in groups of four, each member reporting to Chrome or Steele, depending on who was heading that particular mission. He couldn’t ask anyone else to be involved. Any danger he took on would be his own
None of those facts meant he couldn’t ask permission to go so he didn’t end up with his teammates chasing him down assuming he’d gone off mission.
Steele would talk to Poppy and Poppy would manage Warbucks.
“I’ll call Steele.”
Cooper patted him on the back. “Good.”
“Could you do something for me?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Maybe.”
“Good answer.” Never make a promise until you knew what it entailed. Not unless it was in the field. Then he knew she’d do what he asked as he would. Team relationships were the only friendships Plat ever understood.
“What is it?”
“There’s an asshat in the bar named Tony. I think he’s about to drop dead. I don’t want him to do it here, too many questions.” He really didn’t want to have caused problems for Bone Daddy’s. Tony Di’Fallipi dying at the table minutes after Plat walked away seemed a headache he didn’t need. Plus, needless death irked him. Why let someone die when you could save them?
Some deaths had to happen, others didn’t.
“I’ll take him out and maybe I’ll drop him at an ER.”
“Thanks.” He unlocked the car. First Steele then Kent.
“Platinum.” Copper called his attention. “Sometime you’re going to have to tell me how you ended up with a kid.”
“Copper, if you don’t understand how it works then Gabriel is doing something really wrong.”
His teammate hooked up with her guy months ago and much as Plat didn’t understand how any of their group could manage to have a real social life, Copper seemed happy, which meant she needed to be ragged about it, every chance he got.
“Fuck you, Platinum.”
"I’m pretty fucked. Trust me.”
