I type a quick text to Rich—Take care of her.
His reply comes back within the minute—Always. Do good, son. Go become the man you want to be.
I power the phone off, knowing that was the last communication with my life as I know it. In a few hours, all personal belongings will be stripped and bagged.
Go become the man you want to be, replays in my head, fueling my determination.
This is the beginning, the first step of finding the man inside me that is good enough for Harley Christine Jacobs.
No matter how long it takes. Because when I find that man, I’m coming back for her.
1
Achilles
“We’re applying for SWAT.” I lay it out, not wanting to prolong this more than necessary.
Major and Talon stand to my right and Ford to my left. Without looking, I know we stand in solidarity—legs planted, arms crossed, and serious expressions. This is not up for discussion. Our decision is firm.
The statement hangs in the air as Chief Boyd’s face hardens and his eyes move over us. He has no idea who the four of us are outside of our applications and any documentation of records in the academy. I’m surprised he even accepted my request for a meeting today
“Pardon me?”
“We’re applying for SWAT,” I repeat.
“I’m not deaf. I’m wondering where you four rookies got the balls to come into my office and make that announcement. You haven’t completed your first round of field training, and you’re already looking to move up the ranks.”
“It’s not balls, it’s respect.”
“Respect? You men may be ex-Marines, but you’re on my force now and I call the shots.”
“Marines,” I correct him. The temperature in the room chills, all giving off the same disapproval of his assessment.
“What?”
“Marines. We’re not ex-Marines. We’re Marines.”
“Being in the Reserves doesn’t make you active.”
Major lets out a low, bitter sound, pulling Captain’s attention to him.
“I’ve already had to jump through hoops and fast track your asses through the academy. There are some pissed-off people in this department who think you received special treatment because of who you know.”
This is another trigger point and I close my eyes, mentally getting a hold of my temper. It pisses me off when anyone insinuates we’ve gotten here because of special treatment. The four of us have worked our asses to the bone, risking our lives countless times for this country, and we are exactly where we deserve to be.
“SWAT division has a waiting list that takes years to get through. Men and women with much more experience are already chomping for the call to interview,” he goes on. “Hell, you four are so green, there’re barely any scuffs on your shoes.”
“We know what we need to do.”
“Yeah? You think? What makes you think you’re SWAT material?”
“We know,” I reiterate.
“The probability of the four of you moving so quickly is improbable.”
“We’re a team,” Talon speaks up. “We go together.”
“Cocky big shots who have no regard for how things work. Funny how that was missing in your personnel files.”
“We’re not cocky; we’re good at what we do,” I correct him.
“How could we know that with less than a month on the streets?”
I raise an eyebrow, remaining quiet while the guys chuckle. Captain Boyd leans back in his chair, not amused. “You think one arrest makes you a novice?” There’s a little less anger in his tone.
“Nope, just getting started.”
“Cocky,” he says, shaking his head.
“You don’t even qualify for —“
“Eleven months,” I cut him off, finishing his sentence.
“It takes the best of the best for consideration. Not to mention a recommendation.”
“Best of the best is not a problem. And we’re counting on you for the recommendation.”
“Why are you here telling me this? To fire me up? Piss me off that you’ve barely started and already have a foot out the door? Not sure it’s a good way to start a relationship.”
Once again, I remain quiet. He scans my face, his eyes piercing into mine, and it’s obvious the instant it dawns on him. It’s like watching the proverbial light bulb switch. He’s figuring me out.
“What’s your full name, rookie?”
“Ace Kingston.” I don’t disclose my birth name. Almost everyone knows me as Ace.
“Holy shit, you’re the one.” His expression takes on a new form of understanding. “Achilles Kingston. How in the hell did I miss this? You’re Rich’s boy.”
A knot curls in my gut, and I force myself to stand still. A new round of tension fills the air as he puts the pieces of my screwed-up puzzle together. And from the look on his face, he knows a hell of a lot more than I’d hoped. I’d come this far with only a few people knowing my story. Rich Jacobs is the pinnacle that helped get me on track. And that is why I came clean with the captain about my future plans—Rich suggested it.