Read Online Whiskey Tribute: A Trident Security Series Novella - Book 5.5 by Samantha A. Cole - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Samantha A. Cole
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He hoped someday soon he found a woman who was just
like her, because when he did, he’d make that woman his wife.
Fifteen minutes later, the pub owner turned on the lights to
a small party room in the back of the restaurant for the SEALs to continue the
celebration of their buddy’s life. They would be out of the way, and view, of
the dinner crowd which would start filing in soon. Ian had arranged for the
daytime bartender to stay on. A little corner bar in the room was stocked with
a variety of different beers on ice and about a two dozen bottles of Jameson’s.
They would need at least that much for the fifty or so retired and active SEALs
present. A few wall mounted TVs were turned on to several sports games with the
volumes off. Music was piped in from the main bar area, but it was low enough
to just be background noise.
As the shots of whiskey were being passed around once more,
Curt focused on what he was going to say for the toast. The first one had been
devoid of vulgarities, as clean as an admiral’s dress whites, for the sake of
the family and children. However, this one was for the men who had trained,
sweat, and fought side by side with their fallen brother—cursing wasn’t only
expected, it was a requirement.
Once everyone had their whiskey, they turned to face Eric
Prichard’s best friend. All backs in the room were ram-rod straight and each
set of shoulders squared in honor of every drop of blood shed. Curt had to
clear his throat several times. There was a reason, aside from the cursing, why
this toast was done in private—tears were sure to flow and men like them
preferred not to cry in public.
Taking a deep breath, Curt lifted his glass high above his
head. His gaze was on the ceiling as he spoke to Eric in the great beyond.
“Wabbit, you son of a bitch. We walked through hell together, and blew fucking
smoke up the devil’s ass. We rocked a lot of women’s worlds and a lot of their
beds, too. Big tits, small tits, we squeezed them all, my friend. But then you
met your beautiful wife and, not long after, your kids came along. Your
brothers will lay down their fucking lives for your family, so rest assured we
still have your six. Hang tight, brother Wabbit, until we meet again. Then we’ll
all let fucking loose and blow smoke up a few angels’ skirts. Hoo-yah !”
“ Hoo-yah !”
* * *
Present
“They’re here!” Justin shouted as the three packed SUVs
pulled into the drive. He ran from where he and the other boys had been waiting
in a section of the backyard, where they could see the vehicles come down the
road, to the front of the house. His five other friends, plus the birthday boy,
Connor, were hot on his heels. While the kid’s limp was noticeable, he had
spunk and tried not to let it limit him.
Curt did a final scan of the makeshift training area in and
around the barn, then slapped Ryan on the shoulder. “Thanks for the help. You
did a great job.”
The boy grinned with pride at him. “It was fun. I can’t wait
to shoot some tangos.”
They had spent most of yesterday and the entire morning
setting up bales of hay, which Curt had arranged to be delivered, and other
objects to make places to hide behind and use as cover while searching for the
bad guy. Pete Archer and Steve Romanelli had flown in early yesterday morning
to help, since the Trident team hadn’t been able to take off from Tampa before
seven p.m. last night, due to a few things that couldn’t be rescheduled. They
had all gone straight to the hotel when they arrived and Curt had met them there
for a quick beer.
The other men and he wandered out to the front yard. The
Trident team had brought plenty of toys for the day of SEAL games. Obviously,
none of the weapons were real, but they were incredible simulation training
tools. It would be a cross between high-tech laser tag and real life war games.
Ian climbed out of the driver’s seat of the first vehicle as
everyone else scrambled out. His fiancée, Angie,
like her, because when he did, he’d make that woman his wife.
Fifteen minutes later, the pub owner turned on the lights to
a small party room in the back of the restaurant for the SEALs to continue the
celebration of their buddy’s life. They would be out of the way, and view, of
the dinner crowd which would start filing in soon. Ian had arranged for the
daytime bartender to stay on. A little corner bar in the room was stocked with
a variety of different beers on ice and about a two dozen bottles of Jameson’s.
They would need at least that much for the fifty or so retired and active SEALs
present. A few wall mounted TVs were turned on to several sports games with the
volumes off. Music was piped in from the main bar area, but it was low enough
to just be background noise.
As the shots of whiskey were being passed around once more,
Curt focused on what he was going to say for the toast. The first one had been
devoid of vulgarities, as clean as an admiral’s dress whites, for the sake of
the family and children. However, this one was for the men who had trained,
sweat, and fought side by side with their fallen brother—cursing wasn’t only
expected, it was a requirement.
Once everyone had their whiskey, they turned to face Eric
Prichard’s best friend. All backs in the room were ram-rod straight and each
set of shoulders squared in honor of every drop of blood shed. Curt had to
clear his throat several times. There was a reason, aside from the cursing, why
this toast was done in private—tears were sure to flow and men like them
preferred not to cry in public.
Taking a deep breath, Curt lifted his glass high above his
head. His gaze was on the ceiling as he spoke to Eric in the great beyond.
“Wabbit, you son of a bitch. We walked through hell together, and blew fucking
smoke up the devil’s ass. We rocked a lot of women’s worlds and a lot of their
beds, too. Big tits, small tits, we squeezed them all, my friend. But then you
met your beautiful wife and, not long after, your kids came along. Your
brothers will lay down their fucking lives for your family, so rest assured we
still have your six. Hang tight, brother Wabbit, until we meet again. Then we’ll
all let fucking loose and blow smoke up a few angels’ skirts. Hoo-yah !”
“ Hoo-yah !”
* * *
Present
“They’re here!” Justin shouted as the three packed SUVs
pulled into the drive. He ran from where he and the other boys had been waiting
in a section of the backyard, where they could see the vehicles come down the
road, to the front of the house. His five other friends, plus the birthday boy,
Connor, were hot on his heels. While the kid’s limp was noticeable, he had
spunk and tried not to let it limit him.
Curt did a final scan of the makeshift training area in and
around the barn, then slapped Ryan on the shoulder. “Thanks for the help. You
did a great job.”
The boy grinned with pride at him. “It was fun. I can’t wait
to shoot some tangos.”
They had spent most of yesterday and the entire morning
setting up bales of hay, which Curt had arranged to be delivered, and other
objects to make places to hide behind and use as cover while searching for the
bad guy. Pete Archer and Steve Romanelli had flown in early yesterday morning
to help, since the Trident team hadn’t been able to take off from Tampa before
seven p.m. last night, due to a few things that couldn’t be rescheduled. They
had all gone straight to the hotel when they arrived and Curt had met them there
for a quick beer.
The other men and he wandered out to the front yard. The
Trident team had brought plenty of toys for the day of SEAL games. Obviously,
none of the weapons were real, but they were incredible simulation training
tools. It would be a cross between high-tech laser tag and real life war games.
Ian climbed out of the driver’s seat of the first vehicle as
everyone else scrambled out. His fiancée, Angie,
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