03-Strength of the Mate (11 page)

That wasn’t the half of it. It annoyed the hell out of Adam that they all knew what went on, and didn’t do a damn thing about it.

“So, the pack is disruptive to the overall functioning of the base,” Dawson said. “On top of defying werewolf law by victimizing those who are weaker.”

Adam’s attention was caught by five scruffy-looking men, standing in front of one of the battalion’s office buildings. They wore strange combinations of Marine Corps utility uniforms and native Iraqi clothing. All five wore thigh holsters, but four of them also each carried an M16. With the long hair and heavy beards they all had, they couldn’t be Marines.

“It’s worse than that.” Paul countered Dawson’s summation. “He allows pack members to sexually harass and intimidate humans.”

Dawson stopped dead in his tracks. The scruffy, armed men were openly watching them, now.

“Are you telling me that the werewolves of this camp are roaming around, beating up and sexually molesting their fellow Marines, as well as the civilian contractors we’re here to protect?” Dawson’s voice was pitched low and filled with cold anger.

The menace rolling off of Dawson raised the hair on Adam’s arms.

“You guys make it sound like a bunch of harmless frat-boy pranks,” Adam said angrily. “We hide out all day long, hoping a bunch of werewolves won’t find us to either kick the shit out of us, or rape us.”

“Jesus Christ!” Dawson stood rigidly, staring hard at Adam. His fists were clenched at his sides.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” Jason demanded heatedly.

“Why the fuck didn’t you know?” Adam fired back. “I’m human. Granger tells us all that the pack has to burn off energy. We figure you all know what goes on.”

“What kind of trouble are you causing now, Rivers?” A deep voice called out. It was laced with humor.

Dawson turned quickly to face the scruffy-looking man walking slowly toward their small group. “I never cause it. I just get stuck fixing it.” He stood alert and tense. His eyes narrowed as he watched the man approach.

“Stop being such a Zen motherfucker and lose your temper once in awhile.” Despite the thick beard, the man’s wide smile was easy to see.

Dawson finally returned the man’s smile. “Martelli, you sorry son-of-a-bitch.” He held out his hand for the newcomer to shake. “Christ. You’ve gone native.”

“Hearts and minds, and all that shit,” Martelli replied. He glanced down at himself briefly. “They tell us we’re less adversarial if we blend in with the local populace.”

Dawson looked past Martelli, toward the other four men standing outside the office building. “That doesn’t make sense. The beard makes you look like a crazy mountain man searching for a wife to kidnap.”

“Shit. You’d come voluntarily,” Martelli responded. Growing serious, he gestured toward the men behind him. “While you were sitting on your ass, getting soft, working a pussy desk job, I was going through recon training.”

“No shit? Congratulations,” replied Dawson. “What kinda secret-squirrel shit brings you to Camp Fallujah?”

“Getting my ass shot at, trying to keep a
pogue
CIA agent alive.” Martelli tilted his head to indicate his companions. The breeze picked up the end of his khaki and olive-checked
shemagh
he wore wrapped around his Kevlar. Martelli’s companions each wore one as well.

Dawson lifted his head slightly. His nostrils flared. He must be scenting someone. “Sucks to be you,” he said with a smile. “Hey, I want you to meet Adam Madison. He’s a civilian contractor. He drives supply trucks for us. Adam, meet Sergeant Gene Martelli.”

Adam shook the sergeant’s hand. Dawson introduced Jason and Paul. Martelli gestured the other four men forward.

Martelli introduced Dawson first, then quickly indicated each of them in turn, correctly remembering their names. Next, he gestured toward each of the sand-caked, tired looking men, and provided their names.

“What are you guys doing loitering in front of the battalion’s command offices?” Dawson asked.

It was the CIA agent, Reyes, who answered. “Al Qaeda is getting itself a foothold in Fallujah. We’ve got intel to brief you all on that’ll help keep the convoys safe. I’m also hoping you guys can keep an eye out for certain activity.”

“Well, I’m the operations chief, so if you’ve got something solid, I’ll take it into account.”

“See you at the briefing, then.”

Reyes retreated to a patch of shade that was the shadow of the command office.

“You know your agent friend is a werefox, right?” Dawson asked Martelli, in a low voice.

Together, they began to walk slowly toward the Ares offices.

Martelli chuckled. “Yep. And he’s a sly, sneaky fucker. I don’t know why you wolf-shifters have such a problem with fox-shifters. They get the job done, just fine.”

“You said it. They’re sneaky fuckers.”

Martelli shook his head in humor.

“We’ll see you later on, after we have our own route briefing,” Dawson said, as Adam pulled open the door to the Ares headquarters.

“My briefing should last about an hour,” Adam replied.

“And we’re not done with that earlier conversation,” Dawson said pointedly. His eyes bore into Adam’s intently.

As far as he was concerned, there was nothing left to discuss. Once a month, werewolves went on a rampage, hiding behind the excuse of their hormones.

Adam was one of the first drivers to arrive for the briefing. He sat down in a small, flimsy chair in the center of the room.

“Hey, Madison,” called Armando Ramos. He was in charge of organizing all the convoys. He coordinated what got shipped in which convoy and assigned all drivers and trucks. Mando was a nice guy, but sometimes Adam wished he would grow a bigger set of balls.

“Hey, Mando,” Adam replied.

“Dude, I need a convoy commander. Can I count on you to step up?” Mando’s expression was imploring.

Adam was taken aback. The convoy commander was the civilian in charge of the particular convoy he drove in. Adam had never expressed an interest in the position. He didn’t think he’d ever done anything that made it seem like he was even qualified.

“Are you that fucking desperate?” he asked incredulously.

“I will be, if you say no,” replied Mando. “You know all the procedures. You have a cool head under fire. You understand the Marines, and you work just as well with werewolves as you do humans.”

“I can fake it, anyway,” Adam said derisively.

“I’m taking that as a yes.” Mando handed Adam a stack of paper, bound in a report cover.

As the room filled with drivers, the ambient noise grew louder. Several people were discussing some of the shit that had gone on the day before. Everybody was curious about why the shifters had settled down to sleep earlier than usual.

“Everybody’s okay, though, right?” Mando asked the group. “No civilians showed up in the camp infirmary.”

“Know what was weird?” Mario called, from where he sat in the back of the room. “Two guys from Kilo company were goin’ around askin’ about what usually goes on. They pretended they were surprised by everything.”

Adam glanced over his shoulder. Mario hadn’t said anything about that yesterday. He had to be talking about Jason and Paul. When the briefing was over, Adam was going to tell them to stop wasting their time. No one believed them, anyway.

“That’s bullshit,” someone said from near the front of the room. “Everybody knows werewolves have to fight or fuck after the full moon. Foxes rob you blind. Bears and leopards get hungry and territorial.”

“I just wish they’d leave civilians alone. Civilian shifters don’t do this shit, so none of us are used to it.” This voice came from somewhere to Adam’s left.

There were sounds of agreement from everyone in the room. Including Adam. Maybe Dawson could at least help with that?

“Okay guys,” Mando said in a loud voice. “Let’s get started. We got a fuck-ton of shit that’s gotta get moved this week. So let’s get this sorted out. Flores had to go home yesterday due to a death in the family. Madison has agreed to step up as a convoy commander, so everybody say ‘thank you’. We all know you’re glad it’s not you.”

The room erupted into laughter. Adam joined in. His face warmed when several guys turned toward him. Some congratulated him. Others gave him shit. Everybody was cool about it, though.

Adam was relieved when Mando focused the group on the convoys for the coming week. He scanned the lists of equipment and supplies that needed to get moved. There was an awful lot of fuel that had to be distributed. A hell of a lot more than usual.

“A convoy of nothing but fuel tankers is too big a risk. As a target, it’s too tempting. If something goes wrong, that’s a hell of a flammable chain reaction.” Adam figured the room fell silent when he started talking, because he didn’t do it all that often. “Running all the convoys with a couple extra tankers is the least risky.” Mando looked unsure as he started to reply. Adam didn’t give him a chance. “Asking ten people will get you ten answers. Just tell the Marines about the change. If they want you to make changes, then you do it.” Why the fuck was that so hard? And since when were a bunch of truck drivers experts on security in a war zone?

“Can the Marines handle this kind of last minute change?” Mando asked, even as he started making his final notes.

Seriously? “One of their mottos is adapt, improvise, and overcome,” replied Adam. “If they can’t overcome, they’ll tell you what they need to adapt.” It was difficult, but Adam managed not to roll his eyes.

To his relief, Mando relented and ended the briefing. Schedules would be posted later in the day.

Mando led Adam and the other convoy commanders out of the room. They headed for the security briefing at the battalion command offices. “This briefing doesn’t usually take long. We’ll probably be outta here pretty quick,” Mando told him.

Adam shook his head. “I doubt it. On top of our additional security concerns, CIA has info on local Al-Qaeda movements.”

Mando’s expression was part surprise, part annoyance. Adam had expected worry. He realized he wasn’t all that concerned either. Maybe they’d all been in a combat zone too long.

“Where did you hear about the CIA?” Mando asked.

“Ran into him and his bodyguards on the way to our briefing,” replied Adam.

“Shit,” Mando muttered.

Adam suspected he was more worried about the length of the briefing than he was about someone ending up dead.

Dawson was already in the briefing room when Adam entered. He stood at the front of the room. He stood apart from the major who usually gave the Ares team information about the battalion. As Adam walked in, Dawson glanced up from his conversation with one of the sergeants. Their eyes met briefly, but if he was surprised to see Adam, he didn’t show it.

A lot of the chairs were already taken. The room was filled with a low buzz from all the individual conversations. All the company and platoon commanders were supposed to attend this briefing, along with their first sergeants and team leaders, so it was probably going to be a full house. Glancing around, Adam’s heart sped up a little. He hated crowded rooms. He hated hot, stuffy, crowded rooms even more. Standing near the door with his back to the wall should be enough to let him focus on the meeting.

Dawson ended his conversation as the sergeant sat down in one of the chairs. He glanced at Adam again. Adam’s stomach flopped around in a way that was strangely pleasant. He jolted slightly at a sudden burst of loud laughter. The buzz around him was getting louder.

The door to the room opened. Reyes, the dusty, scraggly CIA agent entered the room, with two of the Recon Marines, Martelli and Jackson.

“Madison, hey,” Reyes said quietly.

“Hey,” Adam replied. The greeting surprised the hell out of him. The fox shifter appeared genuinely friendly, though.

Martelli greeted Adam with a small smile and slight lift of his chin. Adam mimicked the wordless greeting reflexively. The three men sauntered to the front of the room. They casually unhooked their M16s from their slings, and propped them against the wall. It was strange, the way they handled deadly weapons in an offhand manner.

“What was with the werewolves yesterday?”

Startled out of musing, Adam followed the sound of the voice, a couple of rows away. Captain Murphy, one of the battalion officers, was turned around in his chair, talking to the Marine seated behind him.

“How do you mean?” The reply came from the asshole Carson, who had shoved Adam up against a wall, just the day before.

“You guys usually stick to the hooches and the heads,” said Murphy. “There were shifters roaming all over camp yesterday.”

Adam frowned. He clenched his jaw. Had Jason and Paul accidentally stirred up some shit? He glanced at Dawson and found him standing rigidly, eyes fixed on the wall beside Adam. It kinda resembled the way Tim sometimes stood, when he grasped his right wrist behind his back with his left hand and kept his shoulders back. Adam was pretty sure Dawson could hear Murphy and Carson’s conversation, even that far away.

“Don’t worry about it,” Carson said. Disgust was obvious in his tone. He waved a hand dismissively. “Someone just transferred aboard and thinks he can fuck with the status quo. Things’ll be back to normal, next month.”

Anger flared bright and hot in Adam’s chest. Dawson stood unmoving, expressionless.

“I hope not,” Murphy said. “There were a couple of enlisted guys stopping beatings. One of them had a shouting match with somebody about humans consenting, or some shit. It’d be great if they fixed it so we didn’t have to hide out from you guys.”

Adam’s jaw ached, but he couldn’t stop clenching it. He noticed the muscles in Dawson’s temples tensing. He’d pressed his lips into a thin, hard line. His eyes were hard and cold, but he never looked away from that same spot on the wall. He looked as pissed off as Adam felt.

“That’s probably why there were wolves roaming where they usually don’t. Those guys made things worse.” Adam hadn’t thought he could hate Carson more than he already did. “Instead of facing our pack leader directly, somebody went behind his back and started talking shit.” The prick shrugged negligently. “We gotta work off the excess energy and aggression, and this is how it’s done. This eff-en-gee just has to learn to deal with how things are done aboard our base.”