Reborn by Melody Anne
Prologue
Joseph Anderson was right where he wanted to be, and with those he wanted to be with. He loved his life, loved the variety of people he was surrounded by, and loved that he could call so many friend. He was even happier with what he was currently holding in his hand.
“What did you guys think about that?” Joseph asked as he gently snipped off the closed end of his cigar. The small piece of rich tobacco slid into an oversized ashtray, and then Joseph used a three-flame torch lighter to heat the cigar, taking in a few long draws until the tobacco was fully lit. Thick smoke billowed from his mouth like an old coal train, the aroma sending a sweet fragrance into the air.
“Unbelievable,” Sleep said, as he mirrored Joseph’s actions with his own cigar.
“This is the stuff of dreams.” Green said as he sat back, letting out an enormous waft of smoke from his smiling mouth.
“Joseph, this is phenomenal. Thank you,” Smoke said, his stick clenched in the corner of his mouth — thinking he was doing a great job imitating the gangster men he’d seen in the old black and white movies he’d always been a fan of.
“I can’t believe you had our own line of cigars made. Not only that, but at two different cigar companies,” Brackish said, inspecting the label of his carefully crafted cigar. Everyone there could see his wheels turning on how he could put something like a QR code, or even better — an RF chip — into the label and gain insane amounts of data. Then he was quickly shut down as he started geeking out. “Did you know the actual name of the town is Villa de San Antonio de Pavia de Estelí. And it—”
“Thank you again, Joseph,” Eyes said, unabashedly interrupting Brackish before his information went on for the next ten hours. He did give their tech god, and great friend, a smirk as he did so.
Joseph had brought the men to Nicaragua as a gift for completing their mission. They were at a secluded cabin in the forest just outside of Estelí, Nicaragua. The private cabin was ten thousand square feet with nine bedrooms, twelve bathrooms, and one of the most incredible infinity pools a person could find. That late afternoon the men were on the patio after spending all day at the fields, barns, and rolling facilities of My Father Cigars and AJ Fernandez Cigars.
Joseph had met with Don Pepin, the creator of My Father Cigars, the year after Don had started his company, previously known as Pepin Cigars, and he’d stayed in contact with the man since. On one memorable trip to Nicaragua, Don had introduced Joseph to numerous owners in and around Estelí. He’d hit it off with a young up-and-comer in the cigar world — AJ Fernandez.
Something about AJ’s spirit and determination had reminded Joseph of himself when he’d been that age. After additional conversations with the young man, Joseph had decided to help mentor AJ in the business world and, if ever necessary, assist him with financial aspects. Neither Don nor AJ had ever needed the money. In their own rights, they’d become successful incredibly quick. They’d admitted to Joseph, though, that the doors he’d opened for them had helped tremendously. When Joseph had wanted to do something unique for his special ops team, he’d known right where to go and who to ask. Both of the cigar men hadn’t hesitated to accommodate Joseph’s request.
Joseph, Chad, Smoke, and Sleep had chosen the My Father Cigars blend, which closely resembled the company’s My Father Le Bijou 1922: a deep, rich, and full-bodied cigar that was a smoker’s dream. The specialty cigars were only a fraction less potent in their richness but just as enjoyable to anyone who’d smoke them.
Eyes, Brackish, and Green had gone with a cigar made by AJ Fernandez’s team. Their blend closely resembled the highly acclaimed Bellas Artes Maduro with a flavor profile of chocolate, dark fruit, and cedar. The only difference the special ops men could note was the wrapper on their cigar was a shade lighter than the Brazilian Mata Fina wrapper on the original.
The special ops men were ecstatic with learning about the entire process of creating a cigar and how much both organizations, and the employees working in them, made everyone feel like family. The men agreed that a person could only fake being nice for so long, and having trained in how to read people, that fakeness would be revealed quickly. Everyone from the owner to the person collecting fallen tobacco leaves from beneath the roller’s feet were treated warmly and respectfully.
The locals had a good laugh at gringo Green as he tried rolling his own cigar only to have it look like a beat-up snake that had swallowed a rock and then tossed it into a washing machine for ten hours. Chants for Brackish to beat the newest roller turned into giggles when the final count was Brackish: 3, a sixteen-year-old girl: 10.
The most laughs came when Chad had tried cutting the tobacco leaf. His test had been to cut twenty times, making them the same length and width. When the workers held out all twenty cuts side by side, there wasn’t a quiet person in the factory. Not a single one of the twenty matched, and some of them looked more like triangles than the football shape he was supposed to be making. It was a wonderful day that allowed the men to not only have a great deal of fun and learn something new, but to thoroughly shake off at least some of the stress they’d been under for quite some time.
Joseph had received permission from both companies to use the same label for both cigars. In the center of the label, a black spear stood in the middle of an exploding green star on a broad shield. Three Corinthian helmets to the right and three to the left of the shield wrapped around the band. Above the shield, it said Tueri in and below the shield Tenebris. The rough English meaning was Protect in the Shadows. Under each helmet was the call sign of the team members. From left to right was Chug, Eyes, Sleep, Brackish, Green, and ended with Smoke. The men loved looking at the labels as much as the idea that cigars had been explicitly made for them.
“I have something else for each of you,” Joseph practically shouted, making a couple of the men nearly jump. Joseph’s voice was loud and commanding enough to wake the dead . . . in another country . . . halfway around the world.
Joseph stood from his chair, the cigar still creating copious amounts of smoke, and he disappeared through the sliding glass doors leading inside the house. One of the two men serving food and drinks to their group noted Joseph’s head nod and followed Joseph inside.
“What’s he up to now?” Eyes asked Chad.
“There’s no telling,” Chad said with a smile.
“He’s always up to something, though, isn’t he?” Eyes asked, knowing the answer.
“Yes, he is,” Chad replied.
Before Eyes could say anything else, Joseph started back toward them. He was carrying three boxes, each approximately the size of a serving tray, wrapped in simple blue paper. The server was right on Joseph’s heels and had three boxes of his own.
“You can set them on the table right here,” Joseph said to his helper.
Joseph turned back to the waiting team. “This is my gift to each of you. We’ve gone through a lot in our relatively short time together, some soaring highs and certainly some knee-buckling lows. You’ve never faulted and I want each of you to know how appreciative I am for that. I also appreciate your professionalism and your willingness to serve a community none of you previously had ties to.”
“Sir, I do need to say . . .” Sleep began with a serious expression that made Joseph pause. “At no point or time was Brackish ever professional. He was trying to hack into the CIA database during his off time. I also heard from someone that he doesn’t like kids . . . or marriage.” He paused again, but this time he smiled. “And worst of all, he hates kittens,” Sleep finished.
Joseph had looked concerned at the beginning of Sleep’s little speech. Then he was chuckling by the end of it. He should’ve known at least one of the men would lighten the moment. It only took another second for the rest of the group to laugh.
“You’ll go first,” Joseph said as he handed Sleep his gift. That might shut the man up . . . for a few seconds at least.
“Please, open it,” Joseph requested.
Sleep smiled at his peers, the kind of smile a sibling gave to the other when their parents allowed them to go first.
“Oh,” was all Sleep could say as he opened the box and saw the contents. He took a smaller box out and held up the main item. It was a framed box split into four equal quadrants — a photo held in place. The first photo was of him in his tactical gear during one of their missions in Seattle. The second was of him and the team all splotched up with paint from the Anderson paintball war. The third was of him and Joseph laughing at something Sleep had just said — Joseph's head was leaned back, one of his hands on Sleep’s shoulder. The last was of him and Avery during their wedding. Behind the photos was a replica of the cigar label in an oil painting. The frame’s effect, the images, and the artwork were enough for Sleep to lose the next joke he’d been about to spout off. He stood, took a step to Joseph, then gave the man a crippling bear hug.
The rest of the men opened their gifts, and the contents replicated Sleep’s—photos of them on a mission, with the team, with their wives, and with Joseph. One photo alone would remind each of them of their time in Seattle, let alone all four images of them involved in one of the most important missions of their lives.
“Now, please, open your boxes,” Joseph stated while motioning to the smaller boxes. He took a deep draw from his Pepin Blue Label cigar, and smiled while he let the smoke slowly release.
Three things fell out of each box: a key fob, a check, and a pair of plane tickets.
“While you men have been doing your research, I’ve been doing some of my own,” Joseph said. He was very happy with himself.
“I discovered what your favorite car or truck was and bought it for you, complete with every bell and whistle. The check is my final payment, with a bit of a bonus, to each of you. You’ve more than earned it — I do not want to hear that it’s too much. The plane tickets are for you and your wife to travel anywhere in the world. All expenses are paid, first-class. With that ticket comes the vehicle and rental you need when you arrive, as well as your food, drink, and just a sprinkle of spending cash to buy those little trinkets I know you like,” Joseph said.
The men started clamoring about it being too much, even though they’d been told not to. Joseph’s firm stare stopped that immediately so they shifted to where they’d take their wives, and how much better their new vehicle was than their brothers’. They started to become so loud and joyous in their banter, after giving copious amounts of thanks and praise to Joseph, that they got lost in the moment. It was a good place to be. Too often they were lost in the pain and betrayal of the underworld they were trying to break. To be lost in the here and now instead of all of the junk they’d endured in their careers was a breath of fresh air. There were true smiles of joy and anticipation on their faces.
Joseph sat down, leaned back, and looked at each of the men he’d had the pleasure of working with, feeling pride at being a part of bringing Chad and the five men together. There was no doubt in Joseph’s mind that this team of men had shifted the entire culture of Seattle toward doing good instead of falling into a depth of despair and ruin.
While Joseph knew it was the men who’d done the work, it had been his vision that had brought them all together. Joseph was feeling quite superior when he laughed at himself and squashed those self-serving thoughts. Yes, he was glad he’d brought the team together, but he’d take it all back if it would’ve meant his Katherine wouldn’t have been attacked.
He’d give up anything in his life to protect his wife and the rest of his family. This mission might be wrapping up, but there were more missions ahead. Joseph just wasn’t sure what that would mean for him and his family.