Forever by Janie Crouch
Chapter Two
Present
Ethan
I satdown on a bench and took in a spoonful of my cherry Italian ice. The stuff had always been my favorite. Not quite a sorbet, not quite a snow cone . . . just cold deliciousness. Better than ice cream, although Jess would fight me on that one.
There’d been multiple times in my seven-year Navy career when I would’ve traded my next paycheck for the icy goodness, but there hadn’t been any around. Usually because I was out to sea or in a country where there was hardly clean water, much less frozen desserts.
And hell, even when I hadn’t been somewhere extreme, I hadn’t been able to find my favorite treat. Stationed in Naples, I’d found out the hard way that Italy did not, in fact, sell Italian ice. They sold granitas, which were basically slushees, and gelato, which was ice cream. But no Italian ice.
So sitting here on a bench in Norfolk, Virginia, four days past my last day on active-duty status, enjoying my Italian ice seemed like the right thing to do.
Much better than sitting in my one-bedroom apartment trying to figure out how to piece my life back together. Trying to figure out a strategy when it came to Jess.
I’d never thought I would need one. I’d been in love with Jess O’Conner forever, since we were both kids and hadn’t even known what that meant. Naively, I’d thought our relationship would flow directly into marriage without a hiccup. That it was only a matter of time until we were both ready.
Until I’d shown up at her twenty-first birthday party two months ago and seen her practically draped over some other guy, using the flirtatious smile I’d only ever seen her use with me.
The memory still hit me in the chest. I’d never thought I was the jealous type, but I’d never had a reason to be jealous before. Jess and I were made for each other, and we’d always known that.
But it was silly of me to assume that people couldn’t change. Especially someone with a brilliant brain like Jess’s. My little genius was able to process information faster than anyone I’d ever known.
But I wasn’t giving up, that was for damned sure. Maybe she needed to have a fling with this guy. I didn’t like it, but I’d spent a lifetime learning strategy from the best. My dad and uncles at Linear Tactical came at everything—including their love lives—strategically. Seven years in the Navy had honed those strategic instincts in me.
It was time to come up with a new plan for dealing with Jess. But first, I was going to finish this Italian ice.
Or I thought I was.
Engines revved and then tires squealed behind me. I turned as three black SUVs pulled up to the curb in tandem. Men in suits emerged from each one, two of them staying put while one came toward me. I stood.
“Ethan Bollinger?”
I nodded, my body already at attention from years of habit. “Yes.”
“We need you to come with us.”
This wasn’t the first time this had happened to me. As a SEAL, sometimes there wasn’t time to do things the normal way, so I’d been picked up in the infamous black vehicles more than once. But I was out. My name shouldn’t be on the docket for any missions or anything that would require me to leave without notice.
“I’m no longer on active duty,” I said. “Are you sure you have the right person?”
“Yes,” the man said without hesitation. “We’ll drive your car back to your apartment complex while you’re taken to the airport. Your keys, sir?”
I took them out of my pocket and handed them over as I stood and tossed the remaining Italian ice—damn it—into the nearby trash. I followed the man back to the SUVs, and they ushered me into one, closing the door behind me.
Just over an hour later, I was stepping off a Sea Hawk at Andrews Air Force Base near DC. The men with me in the helo hadn’t been talkative, and I hadn’t asked any questions. I knew better by now, and odds were they’d been tasked with getting me to where I was going and nothing more. They probably didn’t know a thing.
This wouldn’t have been anything out of the normal for me a week ago. But now it didn’t make sense. It had to be some kind of paperwork mix-up. Since I was only a few days out of active duty, it was possible that they still had me on a go list somewhere.
I expected to be led into one of the small offices here on base to get a breakdown of what was happening, but there were yet more SUVs waiting for us at a safe distance. One of my companions held the door for me as I climbed inside.
In my years as a SEAL, I’d gotten used to the tense silences on drives like this. There wasn’t any point in asking or speculating about what was happening. It was a waste of words. I’d find out soon enough.
So I did what I knew how to do best: listen, observe, analyze. Skills developed in me by my upbringing, then sharpened in my military career.
We drove for another half hour across the Virginia border and passed signs for Falls Church before we left the highway. I wasn’t intimately familiar with the area, but I knew it was a wealthy suburb. A lot of high-end houses and rich families, including high-ranking military officials.
This was making less and less sense, but I couldn’t say that I wasn’t curious.
The driver stopped in front of a large, isolated house, and I was escorted inside by both the driver and the secondary. Not what I’d expected. But then, none of this had been what was expected.
Men waited for us inside. Three of them. But only one was familiar, and that was all I needed to realize this was more serious than I had thought.
General William Moss turned from the window as I entered, looking me up and down. He wasn’t in uniform, but I didn’t need that to recognize him. Any SEAL worth his salt would recognize the former commander of US Special Ops.
He’d been my boss a few years ago, in that same way you could say “the president is my boss” when you were in the military simply because he was the commander in chief. Too far up the chain for us to interact personally, but you knew who was signing your checks and giving the go orders on your missions.
The other two men were strangers but gave distinctly different impressions. A tall man was pacing back and forth across the room when we entered. He was red, sweating, and visibly upset. The fact that we had arrived seemed to make him even more anxious. He ran a hand through his hair and glared at me before continuing to trace his chosen path across the floor.
In the opposite corner of the room from the general was a third man of Asian descent. Body language told me that he was also tense and upset but was handling it far better than the pacer. He watched me quietly, like he was assessing me for something, though I didn’t know what.
The general nodded to my two companions, and they disappeared back outside, leaving me alone with the three men and thoroughly confused. This wasn’t how I had imagined my day going, and there was a part of me that still thought this was a mistake.
General Moss turned to me. “Do you know who I am?”
I moved into a parade rest stance out of habit. “Yes, sir, General Moss. Though I’ll admit that I don’t know why I’m here.”
His mouth turned into a deeper frown. “There’s a potential international situation that we’re trying to keep from getting out of hand.”
“General,” the quiet man said, “we agreed not to divulge details until everyone arrived.”
“What does it matter, Yang?” the pacing man snapped. “If we’re going to send a child into the situation, might as well tell him everything now to scare him off.”
I noted the name he used and brushed off the insult about my age. That was nothing new for me. I’d gotten that my entire career. I was young for the things that were currently listed on my resume. But people got over my age quickly once they saw what I was capable of.
Glancing at the general, I raised an eyebrow and nodded to the side of the room away from the two others. “May I speak to you, sir?”
He nodded once, joining me. “Yes?”
I kept my voice low and even. “General, I have to ask, are you sure that you have the right person? I’m no longer a SEAL. My release from active duty was this week. Don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered and want to help, but an international incident sounds like you’ll need a fully active team. I’m not that.”
“I’m aware.”
“And I’m a field medic, sir. Of course, I’m combat trained, but if you’re looking for a one-man strike force, there are better options than me.”
The man gave me a grim smile. “Don’t worry, Bollinger, you’re here for a reason. And a damn good one. You’ll want to be here.”
I waited for more, but that was all he said. No hint of what that reason was, and nothing I’d observed so far today had given me any clues either.
“How long is everyone else going to take to get here?” the pacing man asked, his voice rising. “We’re not exactly gifted with an abundance of time.” He pointed at the general. “You’re one of the ones who wanted the kid here, might as well tell him what’s going on.”
I eased back toward the center of the room. Every instinct told me that this man was not a danger to me. But at the same time, he was clearly agitated and volatile. I didn’t want to provoke him.
“Very well, Kramer,” said the general. “Bollinger, how familiar are you with the Carpathian Mountains?”
Familiar enough. The range spanned over a thousand miles and ran through central and eastern Europe, crossing a handful of countries. If there was an international incident at play here, the location made sense. “I’m familiar,” I said. “Any particular part?”
“Moldova.” The single word was supplied by Yang, the quiet man, who was still studying me like he was expecting something more.
I frowned at the general. “A lot of regional tension, given its proximity to Russia and Ukraine. Are we looking at a territorial dispute?”
“A territorial dispute?” Kramer burst out. He rubbed a hand over his face. “No, it’s a kidnapping, not a damned land grab.”
I kept my expression smooth, but I looked at the general for confirmation, and he nodded. Kidnapping? That really wasn’t what I’d been expecting.
Behind me, the door opened, and a familiar voice intruded. “Sorry I’m late. You know how traffic can be around DC.”
Turning, I found another surprise, but this one truly shook me. I took pride in the fact that I could remain calm in nearly every situation, but clearly this wasn’t ordinary.
My uncle, Ian DeRose, stood in the doorway, eyes locked on me. He was a former SEAL himself, though he was long retired. He’d been the owner of Zodiac Tactical, a world-renowned security operation, for as long as I’d known him.
Linear Tactical also provided kidnap and rescue services, but Uncle Ian had resources and contacts that no one else could match. If Zodiac was involved, the situation must be dire.
But the part of the puzzle that didn’t fit was me. I had no extraordinary skills that would make me critical in this kind of crisis. At least no more than any other SEAL. On the list of available operatives, I would be about as far down the list as you could go since I was no longer active duty.
Which, given Uncle Ian’s presence, left only one option: this was personal somehow. And that was fucking terrifying.