Six Years Ago
I WAS DONE. Finished. Out.
For the past seven years, I belonged to a division of the government that wasn’t on the books. I operated alone. There was a mission: I either failed or succeeded. If I failed, that meant I was dead.
After all the shit I’d seen, done, caused—I had survived. It was a fucking miracle.
I was the best at what I did, but there were times I saw my life flash before my eyes. But when you’re the government’s covert assassin, what else was there to expect. If I was captured, I didn’t exist. If I died, I didn’t exist. If I succeeded, I was assigned my next mission.
The plane wheels screeched as I touched down in Alaska. Finally, I was where I wanted to be.
At times, I wasn’t sure I knew who I was anymore. My identity was erased from the system long ago. For the last three months, I’d been working on getting released from the program. It was a slow process with how deep I was in with Black Division.
Those suits knew I wouldn’t share anything I’d done. Hell, half the time I wanted to forget. After three months of debriefing, the government let me out. Of course, there was an underlying threat.
If we so much as suspect you’ve betrayed this country, consider yourself dead, Mr. Bradley.
Yeah, nothing else was new. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew I’d be monitored for years to come, but they wouldn’t find anything.
In all the dark bullshit that swirled around me, there was one person who kept me grounded over the last two years … Jasmine. She saved my soul before it would have been lost completely to the animal beckoning to take over within me. Finally, I was going to spend the rest of my life with her.
The cabin of the plane dinged and the pilot came on to thank us for flying. Who the fuck cared? All the passengers wanted the same thing—to get off. The only thing I wanted was to see my girl.
Jasmine, the love of my life, waited for me at the front of the airport. I carried only a duffel bag. That was all I’d wanted from my previous life. Everything else I set fire to and tried to forget it. There was nothing good about my past besides her.
The last time I’d seen Jasmine had been a little over six months ago on my last furlough. I always flew her to different places to meet to maximize our time together, but the last time, I’d come here and fell in love with Alaska. Yeah, the winters were shitty, but it was isolated and away from the fuckedupness in the world. There was a true peace. Maybe I’d heal enough to be worthy of Jasmine.
Jasmine knew me as Bane Bradley. On the fly, I’d used it when we met at a local bar two years ago in New York. It stuck. And now, it would be my name for the rest of my life. I liked it.
The government hadn’t even known about that name. All the names of my previous identities blended together, morphing into one. My mother called me bastard my entire childhood. That name was also fitting for the shit I’d done. Sometimes a person became a product of where they came from.
The cold air hit my face, and I debarked from the plane at the small airport. It was almost time to see my girl—Jasmine.
I was here. I was home. Home. The word lightened the load as I practically sprinted to the front of the airport. Over the phone yesterday, Jasmine said she had some news for me. Her voice shook minutely, which meant she was nervous. When I’d asked, do you still want me to come? The resounding yes was all I needed. We’d make it through anything else.
Until yesterday, when I’d been released, we hadn’t talked since I’d last visited. But the moment I heard her sweet voice on the end of the line, I knew she still loved me. Jasmine knew I worked for a secret agency, although she thought about it more along the lines of James Bond type shit.
Nothing was further from the truth.
But, it kept her from asking questions and that was all that mattered, which, in turn kept Jasmine safe. As of that moment, all the other shit was in the past and didn’t matter.
A secret smile formed as I thought what I had planned for us. Getting somewhere private was priority—another reason I insisted on Jasmine picking me up at the front versus coming in.
Outside the airport sat the love of my life in her old, tan four-wheel-drive SUV. Another bitter gust of wind hit me, but I made it to the vehicle in record time. As soon as I got in, her subtle vanilla scent greeted me. Oh how I missed that smell.
Jasmine leaned over. Our lips touched as she whispered against mine. “Hey, baby.”
All the countless lie detector tests, questioning, and debriefing were worth it in that moment. First, I had to taste her. As I cupped her face, her soft skin was a soothing balm against my callous palms.
Her lips formed to mine. My tongue sought entry in her mouth, and she opened to me, intensifying the kiss. That sweet little moan had my cock as
hard as a rock. We needed to get out of here before I took her in the parking lot. As soon as we got somewhere, I was sinking deep within her—for hours on end.
A car honked behind us. Jasmine giggled and whispered against my lips, “Are you ready to go home?”
“Yeah, baby. Take me home.”
Home. There was that word again.
I’d never had a home. Ever. There was no way the shithole I’d grown up in could be considered a home. As soon as I turned eighteen, I enlisted in the marines. Within two years, I was recruited to the Black Division. Life expectancy in the program was three years. I’d lasted seven fucking long years.
As Jasmine drove, I couldn’t take my eyes off her honey-blonde hair and dark-chestnut eyes. She had a body made for worshiping that was hidden underneath her oversized thick coat. I was never going to have to let her go.
Glancing my way, she asked with a knowing smile, “What are you looking at?”
“You. It’s always you. I’m sorry it took me so fucking long to get home to you.”
Her hand came out and held mine. “You made it. That’s all that matters. And, you’re here for good?”
“I am.” A tinge of guilt raced through me. There had been several times through the last two years where I’d stood her up because I was on a mission in some hellhole. It was a miracle she’d stayed with me through it all.
While we were apart, I called as often as I could, but sometimes it was weeks before she heard from me. I craved to hear her voice like an addiction. Honestly, it was a miracle I got to date her. When you signed up to be an operative, there were no ties to the world. However, I’d disclosed our relationship as soon as it became one. After intensive monitoring and background checks, Black Division was satisfied and gave me the all clear to continue the relationship.
Driving to the small apartment complex in town, Jasmine parked. I’d only been here once, but with my photographic memory, I knew where we were. Jogging to Jasmine’s side of the truck, I grabbed the keys out of the ignition and cradled her in my arms. The squeal of delight rang through me. I spun us around, earning peals of laughter. I had my girl in my arms, and I was going to spend the rest of my life cherishing her.
As we walked to the door, I kissed her slow. With my right hand, I managed to unlock the door while never taking my mouth from hers. I needed to know this was real and not a dream. Over the last year, I’d dreamed of being with Jasmine and having a child. Time would give me both.
I wanted it all—the white fence, the wife, the kids … everything. And for the first time in my life, I believed I deserved it.