Forrest braced his legs a little wider as I punched the bag again. After half a minute, he cleared his throat.
“You know… I know a guy who might be interested in hiring your ass.”
“My asshole is firmly closed to inward traffic, and that’s the way it’s fucking staying,” I snapped.
His booming laugh filled the room. “If I wanted to pimp you out, I would have done it years ago while you were still babyfaced.”
“Sicko.”
He snorted. “There’s worse. Anyway, I heard a while ago about a former SEAL I know who now runs his own security firm. He hires former Special Forces, mostly SEALs, but why not a Green Beret? I mean, everyone knows wearethe superior force.”
I cracked a laugh. If there was one rivalry that caused literal fights, it was the argument over which force was more elite: Navy SEALs or Army Special Forces. It was a no-brainer, of course. Green Berets were the fucking best.
“Working with SEALs, though, man…”
“Frogsarea different breed, brother,” Forrest drawled.
“No shit. So, what type of security do they do? Buildings and shit? Because I’m not standing outside a club stamping hands all night.”
He let out a snigger. “As much as I’d love to see that, they specialize in private missions and security detailing. Statesideandoverseas.”
My interest piqued. “Oh, yeah? What’s his name?”
“Jackson Cole. Served with him on a collaboration in Iraq a few years back. Real fucking good guy.”
I laid out a series of final jabs before stepping back from the bag and wiping the sweat off my brow. “I’ll think on it.”
Forrest held up his fist. I bumped mine against it and winced. “Thanks, man.”
He snickered. “No problem. Besides, what else do I have to spend my time on aside from looking after lost little kittens like yourself?”
I led the way from the room. “I ain’t no kitten; you and I both know it.”
The manic laugh belonging to Pittsy rang out from our left when we entered the communal office area.
“You ain’t no kitten, Lotus. You’re a fucking pussy!”
I tossed the nearest object—a table tennis paddle—in his general direction and took great pleasure in watching it hit his phone, sending it flying from his grasp.
“The fuck, bro!” Pits yelled, grabbing his phone and checking it over with more urgency than a parent checking their injured child.
I crowed with laughter and kept striding for the locker room.
Forrest peeled off somewhere along the way, and I found myself alone with my thoughts as I tugged my shirt off and reached inside my locker for a fresh one.
Realization hit like a ton of bricks, bringing a shade of anxiety with it. I was almost ready to hang up my uniform, but I wouldn’t survive out there as a civilian if I didn’t have something real fucking niche to dive into. I didn’t do boring, and I didn’t do idle. I needed action with a side of recklessness to remind me I was alive. A job to fuel me with adrenaline and play to my risk-craving tendencies.
I sat on the bench that ran between the two lines of lockers, and pulled out my phone.
Jackson Cole, former Navy SEAL.
The results were immediate. Cole Security. Located in Virginia Beach and San Diego.
Scarily, the more I read, the greater the shift in my heart.
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
Dante