Page 47 of Keeping a Warrior

Once on the ground and gear unloaded, they were bussed to a training camp a short distance from Fort Bragg to receive their role-playing assignments.

The senior noncommissioned officer in charge, a Sergeant First Class named Tudrick, looked at Devon like he’d never seen a woman before.

“A female?” he said dubiously. “What y’all bring a female out here for? We don’t need nurses.”

“I’m not a nurse.” Devon looked him in the eye. “I’m here to provide cultural support.” She tried to launch into an explanation of what she did but the guy didn’t seem to be listening.

“We don’t have accommodations for females,” he kept saying. “No bathroom facilities or anything. What about, um, you know, hygiene?”

Devon rubbed her temples. “I don’t need ‘hygiene’ accommodations,” she said evenly. And she didn’t. She could absolutely piss in the woods behind a bush, a rock or a tree. Hanging her ass out on an airplane full of bored, restless men sitting a few feet away was something else entirely.

Finally Tudrick gave in. “I don’t really see what use she’ll be,” he said to Bradley, speaking over her head like she didn’t exist, “but fine, whatever.”

She tamped down her fury and did her best to ignore him.

By luck of the draw, she was assigned to be part of the guerrilla force, while Rhys and Shane went over to the mercenary side. Matt ended up a guerrilla, too, and he and Devon gave each other triumphant fist bumps.

The mercenaries were handed bundles of clothing, and they headed off to change, only to reappear dressed head-to-toe in black fatigues.

Snorts went around the circle of “guerrillas.”

“What a bunch of ninja rejects,” someone muttered.

With laughter, hoots and more than one obscenity, the mercenaries hopped into the beds of some nearby pickup trucks and roared off.

“All right, people, let’s get out of here,” Tudrick snapped. “We got a long day and a helluva long hike ahead.” He waved them toward a beat-up old van. “It’s a couple of hours drive out to the trailhead.”

Devon glanced around at the thick forest—the towering pines—and an involuntary shiver went through her.

This isn’t eastern Afghanistan. It’s North Carolina.

As she climbed into the van, Devon tried not to think about the fact that, in the end, she’d been safer out in those dark, enemy-filled woods than she’d ever been on her own fucking base.

Chapter Nine

I’ve forgotten how much it sucks taking a crap out in the woods.

Rhys hit Send on the text and grinned up at the ceiling of his pup tent, picturing Devon’s reaction upon getting it. He laid the phone on his chest and waited. Soon enough it vibrated with a reply, and he snatched it up.

Nice visual. Thanks.

They’d been texting back and forth all day long, probably in violation of the rules, but Rhys didn’t care. So far the exercise had been boring as hell, with nothing going on except tramping through the cold, wet forest.

Now that the mercenaries had pitched their small tents and eaten an MRE, there wasn’t shit to do except wait for morning.

Sounds like you’re having a lot more fun than I am, he texted. I wish I was a guerrilla.

LOL. Sneak over and switch sides.

He was seriously tempted. All afternoon Devon had been describing their activities, which included a grueling hike up to the top of a mountain to establish their camp. Then they’d gotten to sit around a nice, warm fire and make up individual backstories to regale the Special Forces guys with when they arrived.

They’re supposed to make contact with us tomorrow, Devon said. And start training us to resist the current regime. Unconventional warfare, man.

Rhys scowled. He really wanted to be a guerrilla.

So what’s your backstory? he asked.

Get this. I’m an activist whose husband was murdered by government forces in order to send me a message. Instead of beating me down, I’ve turned into one of the leaders of the resistance!