A/N: Sequel to Codename: Flint which are the prequels to House of Hart Series.
I don't own these characters Hasbro a whole bunch of other people do. Don't Sue you won't get nothing
Reviews, Questions and respectful criticisms are always welcomed, just know that snark will meant with snark.
Manhattan, Kansas
"Hurry up, LaCrosse." Javier Merino hissed. He watched irritated as Bruno LaCrosse moved slower than molasses on a cold Vermont day. He thought that Peterson said this kid knew what he was doing.
Instead, the kid looked confused staring at the DET cord taping it to the side of the door. Looking at his watch Javier swore. They only had a short window of time to get in and get out.
"What a time for Forrester to fall off the face of the Earth." Riley shook his head. "When I find him, I am going to kill him."
LaCrosse looked back at him, eyebrow raised. With a shake of his head, he turned back to attaching the detonator to the explosive cord.
"I would move now." His accented voice warned him. "This is going to pack quite a kick."
"Punch." Riley corrected him. Where, in the hell, did Peterson pick this guy up at?
Riley shook his head at the man as he moved behind an up-armored Humvee. "I'm mad; because, he could have made quicker work of that door." Riley pointed out.
LaCrosse looked at him irritated; cursing in what Riley supposed was Belgium he handed him the detonator. Glaring at the taller man he yanked it out of his hand glaring at him. Then making the sign of the of the cross; he closed his eyes and pressed the button of the controller.
His chest rumbled as the door exploded off the hinges. Taking a minute to make sure that they both were alive and everything was still attached to them they then looked at the damage that they had caused. Looking at each other they allowed their faces to break into broad smiles.
Climbing over the wreckage of the door, they made their way into the Armory. Paying attention as to not say his boss's real name. "Mr. Green was real specific about taking only the cases of M16s."
"But the M4s are newer." LaCrosse pointed out.
"Just the M16s, he has someone in his back pocket here." Riley shrugged. "I dunno how, the Army is still sending me a bill for a lost sling, and I've been out for ten years. I find it hard to believe that they won't be able to trace the serial numbers."
LaCrosse looked at him and rolled his eyes. "A little help. These crates are heavy either way. Besides think of them being Christmas wrapped," Riley glared at him.
"If Forrester was here, I wouldn't have to be helping you," Riley grumbled. "Nor would Morgan all alone playing guard duty outside."
"You know Forrester is holed up somewhere." LaCrosse shrugged. "Rumor has it some Irish girl escaped the Joe team sting. What was her name?"
"Heather McKinney; Forrester never had a chance with her." Riley shrugged as they made their way to get another case. "Bit of snob; but let me tell you that girl had an ass on her. Dear god; I want to take a bite out of it like an apple."
"So I've heard. Can't wait to take a look at it. So when do you think she'll show back up?" LaCrosse asked.
"Who knows? That girl was a bit touched. Crazy, but they always say that about red heads I bet she's an animal in bed." He said grinning. They both worked to get the box onto the back of the truck. When they turned around they realized a young man in jeans and a t-shirt had a 9mm trained on them.
"STOP" He yelled in a voice that put him barely hitting twenty-one. Before Riley could react the man crumpled at the sound of a sharp crack and Morgan was walking over his unconscious body.
"Sorry, Morgan," Riley mumbled. Morgan was not a man to mess with; his pudgy body belied the sheer strength and mass the man had. Dressed in blue jeans and a black t-shirt that read 'Don't Tread on Me'. You would never know that he was the CFO of County Line Banks.
"Let's get the hell out of here before the cops show up. We don't know who Captain America alerted." The man said spitting.
"You going to let him live?" LaCrosse said looking at the crumpled body.
"Unlike you Cobras, here at the New Dawn we have respect for our Veterans. Now if he tries anything else." Morgan gave them a toothy grin. "We gave him his warning shot."
LaCrosse watched the two men walk back to the armory to get the next case. Sighing, he looked down at the kid who had begun moaning. "Act dead, Bucko."
The young man touched the back of his head pulling his hand down he swore as he saw blood staining his fingers. LaCrosse reached down and slapped the man's cheeks. "If a pretty, little soldier with green eyes comes asking about what happened here. You tell her, Muskrat."
The kids head listed as he tried to focus on LaCrosse and the man swore. Slapping the kid a few times in his face the Specialists brown eyes finally focused on him. "You got that kid? Muskrat?"
The kid slurred, "Muskrat." Riley and Morgan's voices echoed down the hall a sign they were coming closer; LaCrosse swore.
"Sorry kid this is going to hurt you a helluva lot more than me." With that, he slammed his fist in the kid's face.
"The ATF at the time has exhausted all leads in the Attack of the Kansas Armory. To date, our biggest suspect is and will remain, New Dawn, a cult-like militia group that has ties to Cobra."
Lady Jaye reread the last statement from the ATF; shaking her head she reached for Snake-Eyes' After Action report from his mission in Europe. Her green eyes skimmed through the bulk of the well-written report. She finally settled on what she was looking for: his conclusions. "Though the mission was successful; it could be the assumed that the New Dawn can and will find other ways to buy weapons. It concerns me that they might go about taking them by using brute force."
Lady Jaye looked back over the list of places that they might attack. Sighing she rubbed her face, flexing her shoulders, she took a long drink of her milk. The intelligence briefing this morning had her reeling. She had seen the attack coming; she had warned them. Why did they not have the proper procedures in place? Did she miss something? The Specialist that had walked in on the robbery was not hurt, thank god; but, the theft of the weapons.
She thought about how this had to be an inside job; someone had to of known of the excess of weapons. What caught her attention as odd, was that the New Dawn went for the M16's, overlooking the newer M4s.
She hated to admit she wasn't as brushed up on the latest tech on modifications for the M16 as she would have liked. The only thing she could think is they went for what was easiest to carry out. Those rifles were already Christmas wrapped for the New Dawn. Whatever the answer was; to find it out, she would have to get her boots on the ground. After her getting pushed out of the last long-term mission; she couldn't imagine Hawk allowing her to go undercover within the New Dawn.
Jaye pulled out another report. Immersing herself in the responding officer's report, she tried to get a better layout of the scene. Half way into the lab's findings of the explosive used on the door; a tray slammed down in front of her. Looking up from her work she realized she had a front row seat to a round of sneezing.
Smiling to herself she watched as the team's executive officer, Dashiell "Flint" Faireborn, collapsed in a chair across from her. Her handsome teammate looked miserable; his nose red and his blue eyes held a tired look. "You do know that there is something called Sick Call."
"Sick call is for the weak." Flint sniffled, rubbing his nose with a Kleenex.
"Your disgusting, Flint." She shook her head at him; he smiled back at her wearing that cheesy grin of his when he was trying to annoy her. She rolled her eyes heavenward taking a bite of her French fry. "No wonder you can't get a date."
"I am doing fine in that department, thank you very much." He looked hurt; the puppy dog expression didn't last long as he went into another round of sneezing. He groaned placing his head in his hands. "I'm dying, Jaye. I bequeath you my collection of Johnny Cash CDs, so you can learn what good music is."
"What, I don't get your books or Veronica?" She couldn't believe that he wouldn't give her his first edition copy of Jayne Eyre.
"No, those I want to be buried with." He grinned. Which turned into a scowl; when Marks, the NCOIC of the DFAC, came over to their table. Jaye couldn't help, but to giggle as the Master Sergeant sprayed the Warrant Officer with Lysol. "Really, Marks?"
The Sergeant Chuckled, "You fight for freedom; I fight to keep you all fed and healthy. If that means spraying your germ-infested body with Lysol, so, you don't get Lady Jaye sick; so be it." To drive home his point; he sprayed the Kleenex Flint had been using. With that, he walked away. Not before passing the pretty covert ops agent a small bottle of hand sanitizer. She smiled up at the battle worn face of the Master Sergeant and received a wink in return.
Flint gave her a double take. "Is there anyone you can't charm?" Before she could respond, he let out another sneeze. She looked at him with worry in her eyes. "All I have is a cold, that past mission I went from desert, to more desert, to being rained on, to more desert, to the arctic, played in a swamp, then to desert again. Oh, and don't forget, I got caught in an avalanche."
"It was a snow drift, not an avalanche." Lady Jaye pointed out. She sighed; stubborn man, he would be on his death bed before he admitted he was sick.
"You weren't in it," Flint took a drink of his tea. She realized he was using the steam to open up his sinuses; slamming the cup down on the table he moaned. "I can't breathe, Lady Jaye."
"Stop being a baby; by the way, thank God I wasn't stuck in there with you." She looked at him trying to forget the look in his eyes when she had saved him from the block of ice. "Because I saved y'all's punk asses."
"Say that again," He looked at her amusement shining in his eyes.
"What?" She often covered up her brogue; it was an easy way for the enemy to identify her. She also knew it caused her to have the attention of others; in a world of Southern Belles, her Gaelic Brogue brought looks and giggles. Why she let her guard down with Flint; she had no clue. To make matters worse, he was always asking her to repeat words for his own amusement. "I saved y'all's punk asses."
"Y'all, it's cute with the brogue." He grinned at her. That caught her by surprise; him saying that he thought how she said something was cute.
Jaye hated to admit the Warrant Officer confused the hell out of her. One minute he was flirting shamelessly with her, the next he was putting on the brakes. She would wonder if she misread his attentions she would back away giving him space; then, he would hunt her down wondering why she wasn't around.
His taking a bite of his lunch brought her attention to the here and now. "What are you eating?" She watched him spear what looked like a piece of lettuce on his fork. Jaye watched in disgust as the excess Ranch Dressing dripped back into the bowl.
"A salad?" She tipped the bowl towards her; the salad looked more like ranch stew to her. He tried to eat healthy, she supposed, but this disgusting concoction. Bits of egg were floating in the creamy substance.
"With a cold?" Jaye knew that her mother had to be rolling in her grave. Isabelle Hart-Burnett was a firm believer in the healing power of soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. Whatever he was putting in his stomach was not soup and grilled cheese sandwiches.
"What's wrong with a salad?" He pulled the bowl out of her hand when he did she watched a crouton swim from one end to the other.
"That's not a salad; that's Ranch dressing with a side of lettuce." She pointed out. "Stay put and don't eat anymore." She went to walk away; but, thought better of it. Turning around and saw him shoveling another forkful in his mouth. She grabbed it from his hands and threw it away in the trash bin.
Walking over to the soup crocks, she scooped up a ladle of chili and doused it with Sriracha. With an expression of disgust; she collected a grilled cheese sandwich from the grill line. Walking back over to the table; she noticed Gung-Ho and Roadblock had joined them.
"Now, Lady Jaye, why don't you ever bring me soup when I feel like crap?" The heavy gunner pouted.
"She does me." The Gunny smiled. "Even brought me a teddy bear once."
"I was twelve; you had been shot." The Marine was a surrogate big brother to her. In the aftermath of her parent's brutal murder; Gung-Ho had been the one sitting with her in the hospital. His booming voice scaring away anyone who would do her harm
Placing the chili in front of Flint; she noticed that Captain Mullany the Bravo Company's Executive Officer was standing over the Warrant Officer. Lady Jaye couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the tall blonde with the body that made every guy stand up and notice.
Even worse Mullany was perfectly manicured. Her sock bun with the off-center part never had flyways, she didn't walk around with bruises or stitches, and her nails were clean. She couldn't help but look down at her own destroyed nails; with rim oil and grease under them, she sighed. "I know the perfect remedy for a cold. Lady Jaye got part of it right, too."
What made Jaye even more irritated was Mullany was a nice person. "So all you need now is a night in with some movies. I tell you what; I have an extensive collection of 80's treasures. The Breakfast Club always makes me feel better. What do you say? Add a little Scotch to clear the sinuses up?"
Flint looked up and smiled a grin that he never gave her. This charming lopsided creation that cinched in Jaye's mind that she was reading way too much into their relationship. "Sorry Mullany," He shrugged looking over at her. "Lady Jaye promised to take me tonight to some place called Roswell. But swears there was no alien crash there."
"I was going to take him to Swallow. You're welcome to come." She added lamely.
The Captain looked at Jaye quizzically; her face broke out into a big grin. "I think in this case; three's a crowd. I'm sorry, Jaye, really I had no clue."
"No clue?" She looked at the pretty blonde which caused her, even more, confusion. The Captain smiled at her shaking her head. Then walking back to the table she had been having lunch with the other female officers of Bravo Company. Jaye watched her say something to a pretty Lieutenant named Jenkins they all smiled then nodded her direction and went back to their lunch.
Turning she looked at Flint, who was watching her with a blinking expression of disbelief. "Why did you not ask her on a date?" Jaye hissed, "For some reason, she actually wants to go out with you."
All three men looked at her; mouths opened shaking their heads. She was sure Flint was hiding a smile. But he didn't elaborate; strangely, she felt like she had walked into a joke and she was the punchline. With a sigh; she pushed the plate towards him. It was hard to keep the irritation out of her voice. "Here, never think I don't love you. Because I hate grill cheese."
He took a bite, his eyes watered from the spice of the doctored chili. As Flint chewed; he watched her thoughtfully. "Who doesn't like grilled cheese?"
"I don't." Her green eyes narrowed, telling him to drop the subject. Leave it to Flint to not do subtle.
"That makes no sense; you had two orders of cheese fries extra cheese last night." His brows creased she knew he was thinking of all the other times she had jumped on the myriad of food options that have the 'golden goodness' as she called the milk divertive.
"I don't," On instinct, she reached up rubbing the raised scar on the back of her neck. The two of them had one unspoken rule: Flint didn't talk about the painful looking scars on his back; she didn't talk about the scar on her neck.
Her last memories of that day were the man in the mask lowering his gun. She had thought that she could of jump between her father and the man. She remembered hearing the shot, her father jerking her roughly, then darkness. She woke covered in blood; her little brother in his high chair unscathed. The dead bodies around, but, none of them were her parents; then there was the smell of grilled cheese burning on the stove top.
Dropping the subject of grilled cheese; he pulled what she was working on closer to him. Taking another bite of chili; he read through her notes. "Shouldn't you wait till I get my report finished?" She tried to grab the paper; but, he pulled it closer to him and slapped her hand.
"Saves you the trouble." He shrugged back to work on her report, writing notes on hers with his big block handwriting. Taking a bite of grilled cheese, he looked back at her. "We told Oklahoma and Kansas to be on alert. Thank God the Specialist was only knocked out."
She sighed pulling out her original report and read through it again. "Maybe something was lost in translation?"
He handed his copy of her report to her. He had impressed her with his questions in the briefing two days ago she saw why. Like he had done with the pilfered notes there were similar notes on the margins of this report.
But something else caught her attention; he had added commas, semi-colons and he had even rewritten a sentence. "Did you grade my report?" She looked at him her mouth agape. He pulled it out of her hands and looked through it again.
"Lady Jaye, you might not have mentioned National Guard Armories; but, your statement: 'All areas with major arms stockpiles should be guarded; especially, those close to New Dawn's headquarters in Oklahoma and the Smokey Mountains'. Kind of speaks for itself." He blinked at her driving home the point that she had done her job; there was nothing murky about her report. It had been up to those in command to take her report seriously, which he, Duke and Hawk had. "The Grammar on the other hand. How the hell did you graduate College not to mention get your masters?"
"My grammar is fine," She went to grab his copy; but, he stuffed it back in his backpack.
"Do me a favor, when you go to write your dissertation, please, have me look over it." He quipped.
She growled in her throat, "What's wrong with my grammar?"
"The run-on sentences? Dangling prepositions?" He listed off on his fingers. "Oh, not to mention your spelling is horrendous.
"I used spell check!" She swore; looking at her report trying to understand what he was talking about. She caught the smile on his face; she shook her fist. He had been picking on her. "I hate you."
Before she could comment; Duke was taking a seat next to Flint. "Okay, you two. I got a mission for you, let me grab a tray; then, met me in the ready room. Flint, you are going to love this."
Flint looked at her for clarification. "I'm really not, am I?" She stayed quiet, but, mouthed, 'No you're not'.
A/N