Okay, so Raven028 owns Jack; I own Sam. Neither of us own any of the other characters, but she and her Mysterious Muse friend have been kind enough to loan me Jack for the time being. The story introducing more of what Jack is about can be found here: .net/s/6536004/1/

Please R & R both stories.

Cheers,

- Gray

Chapter 2:

After receiving the details of the job from Church, Dominey was eager to get started. A cut and dry rescue operation off the coast of Cuba. 25k for the job and a trip to the Caribbean? Why argue that!

The CBR1000 pulled up to Tool's garage, immediately drawing the attention of the guys inside. The only one of them that rode a sport bike was Christmas. His Ducati 900 stood out among the Harleys and custom choppers in the shop.

"This must be Dominey," Christmas said leaning to Ross. "I can't believe you didn't get a picture of this ass hole before you hired him."

"If I had gone on looks you wouldn't be here," Barney shot back without hesitation. The others laughed.

What did make them hesitate was when Dominey got off the bike. Something about the way he stood. He wore cargo pants tucked into combat boots, but had very small feet. He was about six feet tall, but a fairly slender frame, much like Ying Yang but stretched. A thick leather jacket was zipped up all the way and the boys couldn't see through the reflective visor on his Arai helmet.

Sam took off the helmet and there was a moment of stunned silence.

"Well fuck me," said Tool, bringing his pipe to his lips.

Sam must have been short for Samantha, not Samuel. That or he was a very convincing cross dresser.

"But the stunned looks on your face and the awkward silence I'm guessing Church didn't tell you?" she asked, jutting her hip out to balance her helmet on it.

"Tell us what?" Chirstmas said, already seeing the problems that would come up if Jack came back and saw Sam here.

"That I'm a woman?"

"No, he didn't," Ross said, recovering quickly. "But it doesn't matter; your jacket was enough for us to bring you aboard."

"Well thank you," she said with a nod of her head. "I understand it's a rescue mission?"

"Yes," said Christmas. They started explaining the mission. Tool offered Sam a seat next to him, but she politely declined, preferring to stand.

Christmas was impressed by her posture, and her height. With Gunnar gone, Sam was now the second tallest of the group. He was a leg and ass man, and to his dismay her combat issue pants allowed neither to be showcased, but if he had to guess she had a 36" inseam. Legs for miles usually lead to an ass worth travelling to. All he could see was her face, it was a nice face, however, but not a stunning beauty like Jack. Sam wouldn't be stopping traffic, but Christmas could see how in a dessert fox hole surrounded by men she'd turn into an oasis. She had copper hair hanging around her shoulders with some shaggy bangs hanging over her right eye.

"Originally we were going to have you cover for Gunnar, but I think we might have to rethink it," said Ross.

"We could use you long range, sweetheart," Christmas added.

"Sam works fine," she corrected him. "And long range, short range; I'm more experienced than most. I spent most of the last eight years living in the line of fire, remember. I don't need protection and I'm not afraid of getting dirty."

"That might be true, but having cover would be good for infiltration," Ying Yang said. "She could watch and be our eyes."

The crew nodded. "We don't always have that luxury," Caeser said. "Might keep us from getting in as much trouble."

"If that's what you guys want," she said with a knowing nod. "As long as you aren't thinking I can't handle myself," she added. "I'm a big girl; no need to put the kid gloves on for me, gentlemen."

"Don't worry, sweet-Sam," Christmas caught himself. "If we treat you different, it won't be because you're a girl."

"Woman," she corrected him again.

Damn her, Christmas thought. She was a total change from Jack who was flirtatious, fun loving, a little wild and yes, a bit of a loose cannon; Sam was turning out to be an ice queen. And, to his own dismay, he was finding her chill a little ... hot.

"When is wheels up?" she said, hooking her helmet on her handle bar and shifting her weight again.

"Christmas here," Ross said guesturing to the bald British man who had twice been corrected by Sam. "And I will go do a preliminary fly by and scout on Friday. Wheels up will be Saturday. That gives you three days to get your gear together; is that enough?"

"Yes sir," she said with a strict nod of her head. There was no denying it, Sam was a military operative; she would not let anything get in the way of the mission.

"No need to call me Sir, Sam," Ross said, dipping his chin to her. "You out rank every one of us, so technically we'd be calling you 'Ma'am.'"

"Or Sir," said Christmas, trying to make a joke.

"I've been discharged," she corrected. "I don't have any rank, technically speaking."

"Well," Barney said, cracking a smile. "Regardless, you don't need to call us sir. I'm Ross, this as I said before is Christmas. Over there is Ying Yang, next to him Caeser and Toll Road. And behind you," he gestured to the man smoking his pipe who smiled and waved. "Is Tool. This is his place, but he's kind enough to let us use it as a base of operations of sorts."

Sam nodded that she understood but didn't offer anything else. "Are we finished?" she asked to the surprise of the crew. When Jack had been brought aboard, kicking and screaming, she had made dozens of innuendos, flirted with each one of them and ran her mouth off all while languishing very suggestively on half the bikes in the shop, regardless of owner. It was clear: Sam was not Jack.

"Uh, yeah, I guess," said Barney looking to his friends who nodded, all be it a little awkwardly. "Yeah, we're done. Any questions?"

"Nope," she said with a shake of her head as she picked up her helmet. "If you don't have any for me, I'm good."

"I've got one for ya," said Christmas as he stood up from where he was leaning against his Duke. "Why do you have such a stick up your..."

"Woah!" Toll intercepted Sam before another word escaped Christmas' mouth; it might have been the last for a while. She had begun lunging for him, planning to take him out at the knees and drop him onto the hard floor. Toll, however, was able to wrap her around her arms and waist, pulling her off the ground just a little.

"Fuck you," she hissed, but she didn't lash out at the large man holding her.

"Christmas, relax," Ross shot.

"She ain't fuckin' Jack; leave it alone," said Tool. "You ain't gotta bust her balls just because she isn't flashing her tits at you or fallin for that stupid accent of yours."

"If she were a man, you would not be bothered," said Ying Yang. "You would probably comment on her bike. It is your style."

"Fuck you all," Christmas said, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

"Don't take it personally," said Tool. "He's just a little sensitive. Recently realized he's the second choice to a giant German."

Sam shrugged. "His deal. As long as it won't affect the mission," she said, looking to Ross who shook his head, no.

"Leave him to me."

"So, what's the story about that bike you got there," said Tool, pushing off his stool and moving to closer inspect her CBR. "2010 CBR; what's that motor?"

"1000cc," she said as she watched Tool inspect the machine. "Grew up riding dirt bikes, racing motocross and cross countries with my dad and brothers. Just natural that I keep up with bikes, but I can't really ride my dirt bike down the street so I had to get something more street appropriate."

"I'd say this fits the bill," Tool said, his eyes looking over the whole of the bike. "But why a Honda? Why this bike?"
"I had a sponsorship from Honda when I was younger, before I entered the army. Not factory, but I always liked their machines. Reliable, strong, sexy..." She shrugged, obviously becoming increasingly uncomfortable as the questions were getting more personal.

"It's a lot of machine," he said admiringly. "Gotta be a lot of woman to control that. Of course, as a Lieutenant Colonel, I'm guessing controlling this little bad boy isn't all that difficult now is it?"

"Retired," she corrected, this time with a smile.

"Aw, sugar, you're too young to be retired already, guess that's why you're here, ain't it?" he said with a smirk. Tool always was a charmer.

"Discharged," she admitted.

"Church didn't say why, but only that it was due to some legal issue; assault?" Ross asked, prying a little deeper.

"Don't want to get into it, if it's all the same," Sam said with a toss of her head. "What time?"

"1800 hours," Ross replied.

"I'll be here, geared and ready to go," she said, hooking her helmet off the handlebar. "You've got my number on the file?" she asked, as an afterthought.

"Naw," said Ross. "Lemme get you..." he stopped. The tall redhead had already popped the visor up on her helmet, slipped it on her arm and pulled a pen from her pocket. She grabbed his left arm and wrote her number on the inside of his forearm.

"Well, now you do," she said, matter of factly, and once again reminding the remaining Expendables that she wasn't Jack. Jack would have wrote it more seductively, tucking her body against Barney, letting him catch just a gentle whiff of her perfume. Jack would have wrote it in eye liner rather than pen. Jack probably wouldn't have nearly crushed his wrist when she jerked it around.

The, without a word, the helmet was on, the bike fired up and wheeled around before laying a thick strip of rubber down as she tore out of the garage and down the alley.

"At least we don't have to give her a boost to the bar," said Toll, ever the positive thinker.

"Let's be honest," Hale said with a chuckle. "We bring her to Jack's bar, there's gonna be a cat fight."

"I'd take bets on that fight," said Tool with a laugh.