This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or otherwise, is unintentional and purely coincidental. I am in no way affiliated with any organizations mentioned in this book. I do not make any monetary value in the writing of this story.
This story contains adult language, adult situations and sexual content. Preferably 13+ for this story. Anyone under the age of 13 should be well advised (to be honest, the scenes do not appear until much later in the book but I like to give fair warnings in advance).
*cover done by Christina Quinn*
He never used to anxiously wait for his wife to come home. But it was the envelope that arrived in the mail that prompted him to sneak peeks out the window. Around six, her light blue Camry pulled into the driveway, coming to an abrupt stop inches away from the bumper of his red Titan. Instead of cringing, he fiddled with the envelope in a nonchalant way.
Tracy Rose watched as his wife entered their home; he didn’t say a word. She threw her work shoes by the closet and dropped her keys into the beige woven basket situated on the half wall. He paid little attention to what she said; more than likely, it regarded how horrible her day went. A customer service rep for the post office, Lindsay had her fair share of disgruntled customers. Tracy was thankful that her only interaction with them was over the phone!
The woman wasted no time shredding her clothes while making her way to their bedroom; he stopped for a moment to admire her body. She was no longer the rail thin young lady he had met in the chow hall nine years prior. Her medium brown skinned body filled in well over the years. What he wanted to do, without a doubt was follow her into their bedroom! But he delayed that urge until the two got to the bottom of what was in that envelope!
Still ranting, Lindsay came back into the living room, wearing nothing but a white A-shirt and orange short shorts. Tracy wondered why she even bothered; both garments covered little to nothing! Her dreads had escaped their bun, the dark brown locks with honey blond tips flowed well beyond her shoulders.
“... And that was a fucking waste of my gaddamn time! Anyway...,” her dark brown eyes gazed up at him. She leaned in to give him her usual greeting, a kiss on the lips before she noticed how he looked at her. “What? Hey... what's that?” she drew her attention to the manila envelope in his hands. Tracy came out of his trance as he gave her a lingering kiss on the lips.
“Something came in the mail for you.” he handed the envelope to her. Her eyes widened as she took note of the presidential seal.
“Wait... is that...?”
“Yep. Presidential seal! You know I always open your mail but that-”
“Huh; your nosy ass finally admits it!” she gave him a smirk as she opened her mail.
“Shut up!” Tracy playfully shoved his wife. He looked on as she pulled the contents out: three sheets of paper and an airline ticket.
To Mrs. Lindsay Rochelle Rose:
With great exuberance, I inform you that our government requires your participation in a top-secret training program. As President of the United States, it was my personal duty to inform you of this choice.
I am not obligated to discuss the matter in depth until we meet in person. Yet, a dependable source chose you due to your dedicated service in the United States Marine Corps. Included with this letter are further instructions along with a liable mean of transportation. Please be advised that participation in this program is mandatory.
I look forward to meeting you to discuss the matter at hand extensively. Furthermore, I extend my gratitude for taking this matter with utmost concern. If you have any questions beforehand, feel free to contact the number provided. Semper Fidelis and may God bless you.
Lindsay gave out a nervous laugh as she looked at her husband.
“It's... it's a joke. Yeah...”
“I don't know, Linds. If this was emailed then... maybe. But... that seal is the real thing!” Tracy took the letter and ran his fingers over the stamp.
“But it's so... vague. Top-secret training? For what? And... why,” she mumbled as she looked over the second sheet of paper. As the first letter stated, further details were listed but vaguer than the letter. Two things Lindsay took away from it: her departure date in two weeks from the Phoenix Sky Harbor to Dulles. The other thing? The year-long training scheduled in New Mexico. “Whoa... what?! A year?! Fuck that; I ain't going!” she shook her head. Tracy looked on in amusement.
“Well... that isn't fair... but if this is real... you don't have a choice...”
“But... you see how crazy this all is, right? I just got a two week notice to pack my shit for D.C. for God knows how long and then a year away in New Mexico?! Bullshit! I was picked because I was a Marine? The only good I did there was fire from a tank!”
“Yeah but... not a lot of women can say that, you know...,” her husband pointed out. “Here's that number he mentioned. Call and see if this is for real, at least!”
“You know... I'll do just that!”
It confused him. He lost count how many times he went over the letter and checked the authenticity of it. It was a letter from the president but why was he selected to take part of the project?
The letter waited for him as he came back from lunch in his office. Bradley was lucky; he rarely blew off practice. He wouldn’t have received the envelope until the next week. Bradley made the last-minute decision to work on a few things in his company. After making headlines with the season he had, he placed his “hobby” on hold.
He accepted the complimentary ticket even though he could’ve driven to DC. But he would not deny a first-class trip; never mind he had enough to afford his own private jet. But Bradley Smith, IV wasn’t a braggart.
He reflected to the reason for his forced participation. Was it because of the light stint he did in a military prep school? His stepfather persuaded his mother into sending him at a young age. He noticed the man disapproved of him. Bradley shook the memory out of his brain; he was a child: what did that have to do with the present moment? He hardly remembered what they attempted to teach him at the academy!
He sighed as he got off the plane. The one positive part was that the trip was spur-of-the-moment. There would be no crazed autograph seekers waiting for him in the terminal. He moved his hand through his strawberry blond curls; moving away for a year might do him good. He didn't know what pressure he would be under. But he was confident it would be less irksome than what he dealt with.
No sooner had he strode inside the terminal, he bumped into three men in dark suits. Secret Service, he said to himself. Bradley refrained from rolling his eyes, seeing that the three didn’t mistreat him. In fact, they treated him like a valuable commodity.
They didn't speak to each other as the men guided Bradley to an unmarked vehicle with black privacy tint. He peered around to see if anybody observed. But, hardly two people looked his direction. Everyone else went on with their activities. It unsettled him at the ten-minute silence in the car. Bradley desired to ask all the questions he had. He remained quiet; what convinced him they would tell him anything?
The journey ended at a secured small building, which peaked his curiosity. Bradley had traveled to DC plenty of times but he didn't recognize where he was or the building’s purpose. Examining his surroundings offered even fewer indications of his whereabouts. The area disappointed Bradley. He figured he would go to the Pentagon; a place he’d never been. Still, no words were uttered as they passed through the building. There was nothing inside and it disturbed him a bit. What if this was a trap? Bradley wanted to laugh; why would anybody go through those lengths to kidnap him?
They came to a room that resembled the lobby of a prominent hotel. It definitely was large enough, he noticed. The carpet was of a lavish crimson and there were large leather lounge armchairs spread about the room.
“The president will be with you soon.” one man spoke. Bradley opened his mouth at least to thank the man but the door shut before a sound came out. He heard the mechanical noises of locks from the outside and he studied the door. It was firm; too sturdy to kick open. The only way out would be to remove the door. He ran his hand over the golden hinges and shook his head; that would do no good. A reinforced door. Someone would have to literally blast their way out.
Bradley’s thoughts broke off as he heard movement behind him. He turned and studied the room once again. The arrangement of the chairs and the size of the room concealed whoever was in there. He had expected no one would be, and that put him on alert. Bradley cleared his throat, hoping that whoever was in there would make themselves known. Instead of hanging around, he made his way further inside the room and jumped as six pairs of eyes rested on him.