BOOMER - The Elite Part One Read online

  Boomer - The Elite

  Part One

  By

  KB Winters

  Copyright © 2016 BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC

  Published By: BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC

  Copyright and Disclaimer

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination and have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright ©2016 BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of the trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Contents

  Boomer - The Elite Part One

  Copyright and Disclaimer

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Free Book!

  More From KB Winters

  Acknowledgements

  About The Author

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to the brave men and women of our armed services who put their life on the line everyday to protect our freedom.

  Thank you for your service.

  ~ KB

  Chapter One

  Jack

  A clear, blue canopy stretched overhead, barely even a whisper of a cloud as far as I could see. Another perfect day in Northern California. And, most importantly, a perfect day for flying.

  “All set, Boomer?” A voice buzzed into my ear through my headset.

  I smirked as I glanced over the control panel, the use of my call sign always brought a smile, remembering the day it had been given to me. I flashed a thumbs-up through the front window. “Let’s do it!”

  My F-18 Hornet fighter jet was alive and begging to get airborne. The machine was raw power, made to take over the sky, and I couldn’t wait to get it back where it belonged. My hand rested on the throttle, itching to get going, as I waited for the all clear to come over the radio. When I was granted permission, I pushed forward and made my way down the runway, gaining speed with each yard, until I gracefully lifted up at the perfect, sweet spot moment, to take to the sky. I loved just about every part of flying, but my favorite part was still taking off from an aircraft carrier—that split second right as the plane left the deck, dipped down and then roared into the air. At that moment, it was like my mind and body melded with the machine, giving it life and purpose, as we soared together into a new adventure.

  The jet roared as I urged it higher and faster, and I smiled to myself at the raw power. For now—this would do.

  Flying was freedom.

  I climbed quickly, my internal autopilot taking over every motion. I was recently assigned a new plane and still getting the feel for it. Planes are like women and can be a little temperamental at times.

  Today’s’ mission was simple. All I needed to do was get in the air and make sure everything was in tip top shape. A straight up work-up flight. Nothing more. The real action would begin about a month from now, when I’d be on a WestPac somewhere overseas, I will be flying missions over hostile territory most likely in the middle east somewhere. The ATC in the tower, cut into my musings. “Looks good Boomer. Everything check out okay?”

  “Affirmative,” I replied, doing another quick scan over the array of instruments in the cockpit. “I’m gonna take her out and stretch her legs a bit—be back in thirty.”

  “Copy that. When you get back, the Captain wants to have a word.”

  “Great, Roger that.” I clicked off the radio and focused my attention on the task at hand —it was just me and the blue sky ahead. For a moment, my mind hinged on what the Captain could possibly want to discuss when I landed, but I pushed that out of my mind and focused on the plane. If there were any problems, they needed to be resolved now. It would be a helluva lot easier to fix things at the base, rather than from an aircraft carrier, or even more daunting—in-country. Not that I expected perfection. That was unrealistic. There were always hiccups. In a little over two weeks, my unit would be embarking on my third WestPac to the Middle East. Since this wasn’t my first rodeo, most of the basics were second nature, but it was important to not get too lax, because that’s when most mistakes were made. And mistakes where I’m headed had a tendency to be fatal ones.

  I climbed a little higher and shifted my focus, putting all thoughts of the upcoming mission out of my head.

  Flying, especially when I was alone with no threat or danger, was the best place for me to clear my mind. It became something of a meditation session, often my only place where I have true clarity in the middle of my busy, break-neck life’s pace as a Naval Fighter Pilot. I’d recently turned thirty and something about crossing that milestone was hanging in the back of my mind and forcing me to look back with more reflection than I usually did.

  As I circled back towards the base, I spotted my 69 Camaro gleaming in the side lot outside my office. It had been a graduation gift from my father, who had purchased it brand new back in his early twenties. Although it was a hand me down, there was nothing second rate about it. He’d kept it in phenomenal condition over the years, often times spending entire weekends working on it out in the garage back when my younger brother, Cody, and I were growing up. The day he’d handed me the keys, I’d been overcome with emotion, and at first, refused such a grand gift, but the look in my father’s eyes that day had assured me it was what he wanted. Cody, of course, had been butt-hurt about it for a while, but when he graduated and received a huge check, he shut up about the car.

  I chuckled to myself as I tore my eyes away from the beast of a car, affectionately known as the Black Stallion, and reminded myself that it would be good to give my old man a call before I shipped out. He was living in a retirement community with my mother, down in Florida. I hadn’t been able to go out and visit in over a year, but tried to check in on both of them every couple of weeks with a phone call. Something I wouldn’t be able to do once I was deployed. I usually ended up handing over any phone time to guys in my unit that had wives, girlfriends, kids. I didn’t have any of those things, and found I could keep in touch with my family and friends just as easily over email.

  As I got to thinking about them down in Florida, thousands of miles away, a prick of guilt dug into my gut. I had a two week leave coming up, a sliver of time to rest and relax before shipping out, and I hadn’t even considered going down to visit them. Instead, I was driving down the coast to visit my buddy, Aaron “Player” Rosen. We’d served together for years, before he’d left the Navy to take over his family business when his father unexpectedly passed away. I hadn’t seen him in several months, and when I found out about the deployment, I made plans to spend my R&R with him on
the coast to catch up and kick back. The upcoming deployment would be the first time I’d be going overseas without him by my side—and on my wing.

  The mess of concerns faded to the background again as I maneuvered to get lined up for my landing. I radioed the tower below and requested permission to land, and once I got the all clear, I focused my attention on the task at hand, landing the fighter jet on the runway with a small chirp from the tires.

  I smiled as I cruised to a gentle stop at the end of the runway. “Smooth as butter.”

  * * * *

  After a quick debrief with my plane Captain and flight team, I hustled across the base to Captain Collins’ office. His door was open, but I rapped my knuckles on it anyway. A sign of respect. Collin’s looked up from a stack of papers at the sound and I saluted, before he flagged me into the room. “Lieutenant McGuire. At ease. Take a seat.”

  “Captain,” I replied, ducking my chin. I sat in the seat he indicated and crossed my right leg over the other, ankle to knee.

  Collins’ slipped his reading glasses from his nose and dangled them from one hand. “How was your work-up flight?”

  “Everything’s on point. No issues.”

  Collins nodded vigorously, but his eyes were distant, as though he was only halfway listening. “Good, good. Listen,” he brought his focus back to me. “McGuire, I know this upcoming cruise must sound like old hat. You’ve been there, done that.”

  I bristled at his statement, unsure of where it came from. I’d never treated an operation like it was anything other than the life or death situation that it was. There were plenty of guys in the squad that had a cavalier attitude about it, as though we were going over there for some elaborate version of the soldier games we played as boys—I was not one of them. But, I kept my mouth closed—not wanting to jump ahead of him.

  “You’re a leader here, McGuire. Everyone looks up to you, and I want you to know that it hasn’t gone unnoticed.”

  Relief flooded my chest. “Thank you, sir.”

  Collins steepled his hands together and stared at me for another long moment. “When you get back, there’s going to be a new opportunity for you. As much as we want you here, there’s some interest from a unit on a three-year tour over in Germany. It would be a leadership role, of course, and put you on a fast track to the next level in your career. I don’t know all the specifics yet, but from what I’ve been hearing from up the chain, the job is yours if you want it.”

  The information sunk in slowly. I’d never expressed an interest in going overseas, but it wasn’t something I was opposed to either. Especially if it would mean reaching Lieutenant Commander at an accelerated pace. Truthfully, it was an honor to even be in the running for another promotion. “Thanks for letting me know, Sir. I’ll certainly take it into consideration.”

  Collins stood and I followed suit. “You’re a good man, McGuire. I know you’ll make the right decision when the time comes.” He shook my hand and then came around his desk to walk out with me. We walked down the corridor together, chatting about the flight specifics, until we parted, each taking a different turn at the end of the hall.

  I checked in to say goodbye to the rest of the guys, assuring them I’d be back in two weeks in time to ship out. I grabbed my gym bag and headed out to the Black Stallion. It was odd to be leaving when there was still so much daylight to burn. I normally worked a full day, most of the time staying long after everyone else had called it a night, but I had put in for a half day in order to get things ready for my leave. As much as I loved my job, and never shied away from work, it felt good to rip out of the parking lot early, knowing I didn’t have to be back again for two full weeks.

  * * * *

  “You all set to go, Boomer?” Player asked when I called him later that evening.

  I glanced at the bags by the front door, mentally running through my checklist again, before answering. “Sure am. Believe me, I blazed outta work today.”

  He laughed. “Yeah right. You’re a chronic workaholic. You probably just got home.”

  I smirked and didn’t bother arguing with him. He knew me too well. When he was in the Navy, Player had been a work horse when he needed to be, but he’d also had no problem slowing down and having as much fun as he could get away with. He’d made an amazing leader because of his ability to rally everyone together and bond over stupid shit, often making up games to play when we were stuck in the middle of the ocean, with no source of entertainment, but he was also a gifted pilot and I’d fly with him anytime—especially in combat.

  “What about your Princess?” He asked, a smile still audible in his voice.

  I shifted the phone to my shoulder to crane around and check the kitchen. “She’s busy babysitting my dinner plate at the moment, but yeah, I’d say she’s ready for a little beach time herself.” I snapped my fingers and my yellow lab, Princess, tore her eyes away from longingly staring up at my dinner on the edge of the counter to look at me. She wagged her tail and trotted over to my waiting hand. I scratched her ears and she sat next to my feet. “Thanks again for agreeing to watch after her while I’m gone.” My heart ached at the thought of leaving her behind for six months, something I did my best not to think about normally.

  “No prob. I promise to send a nauseating amount of pictures, if that’s what you need,” Aaron replied.

  I laughed. “Thanks man. Well, hey, I’m gonna get to dinner before my girl here beats me to it, but I’ll shoot a text over when I head out in the morning.”

  “All right, Boomer. Looking forward to it.”

  I hung up the phone and set it on the counter as I crossed back to the kitchen to grab my dinner. Princess followed me into the living room and took her normal place on the couch beside me. I smiled down at her. “I’m gonna miss this, girl.”

  I’d adopted Princess as a puppy nearly four years ago, and other than when I was on a tour overseas, she was my constant companion. I even took her to the base a few times a week to keep me company at work when I knew I’d be working overtime. I’d had to leave her behind twice before, and it never got any easier. My parents had always been the ones to watch her in the past, but since they had moved to Florida, Aaron had volunteered to take her.

  “You’re gonna love hanging out with Player, Princess. You’ll get to run the beach every day, chase sea birds, sticks, all that good stuff.” She rolled her brown eyes up at me and I wondered if she was sensing that I was going to be leaving soon. I scratched her head again and offered her a piece of chicken from my plate. She perked up right away and gobbled down the scrap. “God, I’m such a sucker.”

  Growing up, my family never had any pets. As a military family, we moved from base to base every few years and my mom had always argued that it would be too much to deal with if we had a houseful of pets. Princess was my first dog, and I’d known from the moment I spotted her at the local pet shelter, that I had to take her home with me. She had an easy temperament and was a source of peace and calm that I hadn’t realized I’d needed, until she arrived. Within weeks of adopting her, she’d wiggled her way into my heart—and taken over my bed—and had eased a deep loneliness that I’d been subconsciously ignoring up until that point.

  Some of my buddies called me out for preferring to spend a night in with Princess and a movie than go out drinking or dancing, but most of them were a handful of years younger than I was, and while, at age thirty, I wasn’t exactly too old to go out and get messed up, that lifestyle had lost its appeal over time.

  Especially when my alarm was permanently set to five AM.

  While most of my friends and fellow pilots were looking ahead, one night at a time, I was preoccupied with the rest of my life and had reached a point where I was no longer able to ignore the desire to meet someone special, settle down—at least, as much as a military life would allow—and have a family of my own. Adopting Princess had been the first step in that discovery process.

  I just hadn’t found anyone that hit me like lighting and made me s
ee the potential of a lifelong love that my parents had shared for forty years.

  I sighed and absently pat Princess’s back. “You don’t think I’m boring, do you?”

  Princess blinked and used my distracted state against me, by reaching over into my lap and snagging a scrap of chicken off my plate. I sighed and leaned forward to put the plate on the coffee table, out of her reach. “Yeah, yeah. I know, you’re just here for the food.” Princess wagged her tail, and I laughed at her guilty expression. “All right, let’s call it a night.”

  On my way back to the kitchen to put my plate in the dishwasher, I caught sight of the clock. It was barely nine o’clock.

  “God, I am boring.”

  Chapter Two

  Holly

  The date that had been circled, drawn over with highlighter pens half a dozen times, and underlined in my planner for months, had finally arrived: April 17th. Two days post tax day, and while my desk was still buried in paperwork that would need to be dealt with, it could finally all be put on hold. The phone was quiet, my email box was cleared, and as I left my office, I let out a deep sigh of relief.

  Time to relax.

  “Have a good vacation, Holly!” I turned at the voice and spotted Paula, the woman who leased the office next door to mine. She ran a thriving online fashion boutique, and used the space as part photography studio for her collection of goods going on sale, and part office for paperwork and hosting meetings with buyers. She’d been leasing the office for years, and had been incredibly warm and welcoming to me since I’d moved into my compact office on the other side of hers. She was a decade older than me, married, with two school aged kids at home, but we’d bonded over our mutual love of small label fashion and anything that had a bohemian chic flair.

  “Thanks Paula. It feels so good to get out of there. I swear, it was beginning to feel like the walls were caving in on me!”

  Paula laughed. “I bet! I can’t imagine the amount of pressure on you this time of year. I get frazzled enough just trying to round up my own documents for taxes. I would definitely lose my mind if I was the one actually responsible for doing the taxes. God bless ya, honey!”