Chapter 1

Things do not always go the way we want. In this case, the anonymity and seclusion Sam wanted just did not seem to happen.

Gerald's only girl, 'Echo on the wind', Mr. Jacob's grand daughter pranced into the ranch house like she belonged there. I guess she did. After so many years that run-down, ramshackle piece of heaven was home to her. Probably wherever grandpa was would be home. She was stopped in the door and looking at me. There had to be something wrong; she was crying. Another unexpected miracle was standing right next to her, that Wolf; behind them, Mo and Jeff.

It suddenly became hard for me to swallow, beside another thing waking up. 'Damn', I thought. This vision could in no freaking way be that little girl from 11 years ago, no way. She soon proved me wrong.

With tears streaming down her cheeks, she screamed, "Johnny, Johnny, you came back for me. Johnny, Johnny!" as 98 pounds of some Hollywood model slammed into me, hugging, kissing and climbing all over me. That chair would have held both of us if the force of her charge did not knock both of us to the floor. That must have raised a ton of dust for my eyes were misting up now.

I wrapped my arms around her. Man, had she 'growed-up'. What did they feed her here. "Hiya squirt. If you don't let up a bit, grandpa's going to get his shotgun out and you and I will be 'hitched'.

"That's the way it is meant to be, JP, the way it always was to be." More tears, hugs and I think things would have done a might further until we heard."

"You sure didn't greet your Maw and me that way Johnny!" He knew, the old man knew all along who I was.

Yep, there was no longer any doubt, that squirming, twisting 98 pounds of girl was stirring up more dust than a Texas Cyclone. I held her tighter and just kissed her back. Doe and Jake Jacob just looked at each other and then the two of us locked in some new death grip. Mo, Jeff and even Mr. Wolf just were lying down by the door, seemingly interested in the wrestling match happening before them.

Remember I said no one ever called me 'Johnny, right. Now that's all they called me. So much for 'hiding out'. The only thing I could think of now was this must have been what gave rise to the song, 'Star Spangled Banner' during the Civil War. Pride in being back 'Home' now took centre stage.

For what seemed like forever, we just held each other. Long lost loves could best describe us now. I should have realized how my life, our lives were going to change now.

A might earlier, half a world away, we find out a bit about Paul: I was on night patrol and kept my eyes to the ground. Tonight my night vision would have to do for a bit since the air had been full of AA and tracer fire at another fast-mover that was probably gone already.

This was to be my last combat mission. It marked the end of my second tour and had insisted that he accompany the Brits that were going to take over. He had worked with some during his first tour over in Bosnia. It had not been long, but long enough that he had made some friends and those he fought with soon made him feel he was becoming part of the team.

The turning point had been when he had gotten into a fight in a bar. One of the new UN troops had been there on his first assignment. This was his R & R and had been joined by his sister. She had come from Ireland to just see him. He was all she had and her heart had never stopped pounding while she imagined never seeing him again, yet she merely smiled, gave him a kiss and pushed him with an, "off uhh go laddie, come back to us uhh ear". It had only been a month since their parents and young sister had been killed in a random IRA bombing. She had cried since he left. He had sent her some money, she also saved some and had gone to a pub near his base and taken a small room.

Dinner had been ordered and the two were holding hands while she looked at him, her eyes still full of tears. It was then five, big and mean-looking US Army Sods came up to the pair telling the young man to "Beat It" that they would make sure the little lady really would have something to cry about, they began to slap him around while the other two started to fondle and molest the crying girl. "Jimmy" she screamed.

Each of the men were nearly twice the boy's size, One had pulled a knife and said he needed a good target. If not the boy, then maybe the girl, then he laughed. It was to be the last thing from his mouth. One thing I had learned from my time with the Brits was to kill silently and quickly, and that there was no such thing as a fair fight. I had grabbed his head and twisted it until I heard the snap. Within a few seconds, as drunk as they were, the four remaining giants started on me. It was not a pretty sight. My face, neck and legs were becoming more like bloody roasts than part of my body. Then they pulled knives and came at me. I did like any man would and thoughts of my misspent life came racing to mind.

I saw a knife coming towards me, blocked it as another two came up and across. I waited for what I knew the pain would be like. I had been stabbed and cut before. The blows never came. The two that had been attacking the girl were on the floor with four men standing by them, smiles on their faces. The other two that had been beating the boy were not as fortunate. Since all were armed and had been using deadly force, two Royal Marines and two SAS guards had both disarmed them and cut their throats with their own knives. They were both dead before they hit the floor.

Another man, an officer I think, took the girl and boy away and told them to go with two other men. He came over to us and told us to sit down with our hands resting on the table in clear view. He proceeded to tell us what the story was to be. These five blokes storm into the pub, see me at a table and proceed to send me off. I protested and the five drew knives, which were now strewn on the floor. That's when all hell broke loose and some of the lads in the pub thought five armed men against one un-armed Yank was a bit unfair and tried to disarm the five. The fact that three were dead and two still alive gave the story merit. Nothing would be said of the girl and boy that had been spirited away.

Half a dozen military police rushed into the pub. The officer identified himself and told what he had seen. I later learned he was a high-ranking Officer in Her Majesty's life guard. The Royal marine guard had been there to escort him. The police now really were confused. None of those seated before them were in the same regiment, group or section. Major Pembrooke was not their superior. Well, they assumed it would be sorted out later at the base. They were wrong.

The base commander, followed by several officers and the ranking American liaison rushed in. The leader of the police went stiff and started to recite the story. "Yes, Yes" the base commander said. "Lord George Pembrooke" he called out. A silver haired man stood up, in back of him were four large men, neatly dressed and obviously there with the man. "The PM and MOD rang me up and told me that you had witnessed the whole thing!"

"Yes. I was dining with my son, Major Pembrooke of Her Majesty's Lifeguard when this man was attacked by those five Yanks. These other men went to his rescue and I fear, while trying to disarm them, their training took over. Please advise the MOD should anything more ever come of this business. I should think some medal or award would be given for their quick response."

There were no medals or awards, and there was never any need for further action. Lord Pembrooke, Bt., MP, Knight of The Garter, OBE and former Ambassador to the US called us to his table and proceeded to ask us why two of the buggers were still alive? In the rounds of drinks that followed, (bought by Major Pembrooke) the four who joined in the fight were there to work with the SAS and SBS in a joint military exercise (read training for a mission). Rumors move faster than anything and by the next day, there was a smile on the faces of my unit. It seems that no one ever expected a Yank to rush to the aid of a young Brit soldier. The debt would be repaid many times in the future.

I learned a lot from them. Before I left Bosnia, we had a new unit commander, fresh from Sandhurst. Lt. Alfred Pembrooke. If he was anything like his father or brother, the unit was to be in good hands.

Before my next tour, I went home to get married. Kathy had been my sort of on again off again girlfriend. When I came home she was so nice to me that when we got to talking about the future, I decided to ask her to marry me. Before I left we were wed, she had her passes and my name as well as was on all my bank accounts.

The recruiter had told us not to worry, the Army would teach us everything we would need to know. In truth, if it had not been for the real world experiences in Bosnia I would never have survived my second tour. I had learned how to survive there. I wish that part of that experience had included IEDs.

Yeah, one went off near me. I was slightly hurt, got put in for a Purple Heart and rotated back to the States. My new wife was now on my mind as we took a MAP flight back from Germany. I raced home, flowers in my hand. I used my keys, entered and heard sounds coming from the bedroom. I threw the flowers down, drew a 9mm and opened the door. I stood frozen in-place. There was Kathy, on the bed on all fours, one man in her mouth, another pounding her from behind and another dancing around taking pictures of the action. She saw me first, then laughed. "Get in-line" she said. I fired one round, it hit the headboard and got everyone's attention very quickly.

"Out, Get Out now and take this slut with you. Leave the camera, leave now or you will never leave, alive."

The JAG officer looked at the pictures, looked at my records and merely said. "Army life is tough, but I'll do the best I can for you Son." He wasn't my dad and I told him if he could not get my money back to get me out now and divorce the bitch. If not, and she would fight it, tell her she and her boyfriends were dead. I pointed to the pictures. Kathy apparently had a lot of boyfriends. The rumors were she had two or three of them over each night. The investigations that JAG did soon had enough evidence to show, without question, that a divorce was within reason. The papers were signed and I was a free man. The apartment manager was a good man. He cancelled the lease, returned the deposit to me and changed the locks. There was a storage unit that I was able to put my things in until I knew what was next.

I'll have to admit, that although stuff like this happens a lot in the Military, that JAG Officer did get me out early, I got my Purple Heart and a Honourable Discharge. I was out $15,000 which Kathy had taken from my accounts but it seemed a small price to pay to be rid of the cheating bitch.

I went looking both for a job and a new place to stay. I had been re-assigned to Ft. Bragg then mustered out at Deland. I thought back to the love I had seen between the young soldier and his sister. Major Pembrooke and his father both had given me contact information. I wrote to them both, thanking them again for what they had done for all of us and asked if they ever found out what had happened to the two. I was to learn later what that was.

My day was really just a day. I was free but inside it was like I had been torn limb from limb. I knew deep down that my life style was not what a woman wanted to share, but damn it, then she should have told me, not cheated on me. I vowed then and there that I would never marry again. Never. Right.

Three months later and just a bit away: Angela had had a bit too much to drink. Those men at the bar were groping and pawing her so much that she finally was calling her father, but there was no signal on her cell. She moved around, held the cell up in the loo and at least was able to tell, she thought, Lou, one of his men, where she was. She would go outside and call again.

Lou was like family, in fact he was family, her fathers family. She was Angela De Costa, eighteen years old and a Mafia Princess. Her father, Don Vincent De Costa was head of one of the 'Five Families', in fact, he was the leader of them. She had come here to meet her sister and her new boyfriend. It was not one of the places the family owned and the Latin influence in the club gave her the feeling that her sister was seeing a boy that Papa would not approve of. Since her cell did not work inside, she had not received the calls from Mona that she had already broken up with him when he had tried to rape her earlier.

She went outside, in back and got a better signal. She saw the message light on and listened to one of the messages from Mona. "Damn" she thought. "I hope she's Ok?"

She began to walk back, the door was locked. She began to walk through the alley to her car. The three losers were coming towards her in the alley. She quickened her pace as she called Papa's emergency line. As the phone was answered one of the men grabbed her as the other two began pulling her back and ripping off her clothes. She dropped the phone and yelled for help. She got a hard slap from one of the man, who told the other two that "this 'Puta' makes too much noise and to cut her tongue out."

Ex SSgt Paul Jenkins was never a hero, he never tried to be one, but when he heard a voice call for help, a female voice, he was back to the person he had been in Bosnia. The sounds coming from the alley to his right seemed to be like the places he remembered. He had no weapon, but then again he had learned to kill with whatever he had. He ran down the alley, saw a girl being dragged by three men and charged them.

There were no "Hey you, Stop" or other such nonsense. He hit the first man, knocking him down and as the man fell, punched his right temple in with the middle knuckle of his right hand. The man died then and there. The other two dropped Angela, both were pulling guns or knives and Paul did the only thing he could, he hit the closest man to him in the face, pushed his nose in an up driving both hard and soft cartilage into the brain. Two down, one to go. Although ... then Paul heard a noise, then felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. He had been shot. He felt another, this time in his leg. As he fell to the ground he saw the girl on the ground and tried to fall over her to cover her body. He heard the sound again as his head became heavy and soon he was out.

Several things had happened that would change Paul's life for the better. Things had not gone his way since the incident at the pub. Today was another good day for Paul though. The third man shot Paul with a .25 cal automatic. It was a pretty weapon, small, easily hidden and easy to use. In the hands of an expert it was deadly at close range. This man was not an expert, it was the first time he had had to use it and on the fourth shot it jammed.

Had not Angela called, told Lou to come get her then Papa reaching him to say he had been called again on the emergency line things might have been different. Lou had been going down the alley, one car had blocked the alley and Big Tony and Moose had driven with Lou. He had heard the shots; saw Paul kill both the first and then a second man and try to cover Angela's little body. As I said before, Lou was family, Angela's family. He told Big Tony to go. Big Tony was really big, 6' 8'' and 380 pounds. He drew his pistol, a .454 Cassal with 12 inch barrel and a 400 grain bullet that had been cross-cut. Perp number three was now missing a head.

The blast the weapon made shook through the alley. The boys in front of the alley made certain no one got through. The back door to the club opened only to have Moose ask if there was any problem. Moose was bigger than Big Tony. There would be no call to 911 or to police in this area. Death was an everyday thing here.

Angela was covered with a blanket, carried lovingly by Big Tony to the car. Lou had detailed to Mr. De Costa what had happened. He turned a little red, then hung up the phone, taking another blanket from the trunk and wrapped it around Paul before he carried him to the car. (Poetic License, we never move a head or neck shot) There was very little room left with the big men and the two injured people so while Big Tony held Angela, Lou had Paul bleeding all over him. Mr. De Costa wanted the very best for both of them. He had a special wing at Angels Of Mercy Hospital which catered to such special clients. In-fact Mr. De Costa owned the entire hospital. The car was driven a short distance to an old ball field where a helicopter took both patients to emergency. It might even be said that Mr. De Costa owned much of the city.

Another helicopter landed, this time in the parking area near emergency. No one tried to stop the dark haired man, in fact he was led right inside where a doctor and a nurse were giving a briefing.

Lou had sent the boys to gather the 'trash' in the back lot as well as any personal items Angela had dropped. One man, Babe, was sent to drive back Angela's car which he found using the tracking devices in any family car.

Another put the bodies in body bags then blankets kept in the trunk. This was why each car kept a few ready. Brass, shells, guns, knives anything with possible fingerprints was recovered. The three bodies would soon become chum for a fleet of fishing boats.

Lou, Big Tony, and Moose, all drove back to the hospital. Each suit had cost $2,500, they were covered in blood but all the men just worried about Angela, not suits.

There was both good news and some bad news. Angela was going to be OK; her jaw had been broken, she had a concussion when her head hit the ground and there had been scratches and nail tears where the men had torn off her clothes. Nothing worse had been done to her and she had been very lucky. Vincent made a call, Maria, his wife, told Mona that her sister would live. Mona broke down and began to tell Maria what she had done and what had almost happened to her. Mona was sixteen. Maria told her that she and Vincent would deal with her later. Now they both needed to go see Angela. Maria shook her head to Vincent when Mona saw Angela, wired jaw and with IV's and tubes hanging from her body. Her punishment, though, had not even begun.