Goddess Rising (4 page)

“You know I’m taking the usual cut for my connect at the DMV.”

“Of course.” Wes nodded as Ryke handed him a stack of Texas state driver’s license templates complete with addresses, names, DL numbers and that
oh-so-important
twenty-one to twenty-three year-old DOB range—the magic number underage would-be drinkers would pay a pretty penny for. All real, all completely believable—the only thing they were missing was the artistry of his Photoshop skills, new pictures, and a very good laminator. God bless Texas and their easily counterfeited IDs.

“Genius,” Wes said with a smile as he reviewed each one in quick succession. “This should be enough to cover this year’s tuition and supplies.”

“Never trust a disgruntled government employee making only a buck over minimum wage an hour with something as important as producing state IDs,” Ryke replied with a grin.

Wes pulled out a manila envelope full of cash, handing it over. “Deposit on the goods and payment for the bike.”

Ryke accepted the envelope. “Pleasure doing business with you, brother.”

Wes tucked the neat stack of templates into his breast pocket. “Thanks, man—for making her beautiful again,” he said as he nodded outside at the Panhead.

“She always was, brother,” Ryke answered. “Just needed a little tender loving care is all.”

Ryke walked him out, watching as he slipped on his half-helmet and sunglasses. Wes started the bike, the roar of the engine filling the garage with a gorgeous, full-bodied sound. He popped the clutch and shot forward, wind blowing past him. As he opened up the Panhead on the highway, Wes reveled in the sheer pleasure of the moment on the back of the only good thing his father had ever left him.

*

August—Sunrise

Fort Hood, Killeen, Texas

S A M A N T H A

From the open
door of the CH-47 Chinook helicopter, Sam watched the sun rise—its hot, yellow tendrils spreading over the vast Texas plain. She relished the cool morning air beating past her and whipping through her fatigues. Summer was ending, but by late morning, the temperature would be sweltering, and she’d be sweating her way through field training, carrying a heavy pack on her back and praying for it to feel this cool again.

“You ready for this,
chica
?” Rita Ramos asked as she leaned toward Sam’s ear, speaking just loud enough to be heard over the heavy
whump whump whump
of the double rotors. “Ranger Challenge training won’t be easy—these assholes don’t exactly want us here,” she said, looking in the direction of the predominantly older, male cadets occupying the bench seats around them.

Sam smiled at her. “Who says girls can’t be Rangers?”

“Every single jackass sitting behind us,” Rita replied with an eye roll. “Sometimes I think we’ve got more to worry about from our own squads than from the brigades at the other schools.”

Sam caught Alejandro’s intense, dark gaze from across the chopper’s fuselage. He watched her grimly, lips turned down in a disapproving frown.

Rita glanced back. “Ignore him,” she muttered. “Alejo’s just pissed you’re a sophomore and you keep showing him and his crew up at the field training.”

He’s also pissed because I’m the only person here who refuses to kowtow to him,
Sam thought, noting the deference of the crew that surrounded him, the way everyone automatically conceded to Alejandro like he was some hotshot deity on the rise.

“I’ll have to watch my back,” Sam murmured, looking away to watch the plains streak past them.

“Hey, we watch each other’s backs.” Rita nudged her as the Chinook banked, descending into Ft. Hood, a three-hundred-and-forty-square-mile military installation—one of the largest U.S. bases in the world. The rolling, semi-arid terrain made Ft. Hood perfect for training and testing military units. For years, it had been the Army’s premier stateside military base because it was the only post capable of stationing and training two armored divisions.

As the chopper landed at one of Ft. Hood’s massive airfields, Sam and Rita were among the first to disembark and fall into formation. The fifty-person group organized quickly, lining up by class, rank, and file, postures stiff and straight as Colonel Sasser approached with the other officer instructors. He paced before the front row, examining the line with cool gray eyes and a stern expression.

“Since 1876, Texas A&M University has been a steady source of some of the most important commissioned officers for the United States Armed Services,” Colonel Sasser began. “Few know that during World War II, A&M commissioned more officers than West Point.” He directed a hard and meaningful stare across the cadets. “You want to be the best?” he asked. “You want to be officers in the greatest army the world has ever known?”

The cadets straightened infinitesimally as he passed, postures ramrod, demeanors stern and proud. Though Sam could only see Sasser peripherally, she knew the exact moment his unwavering gaze fell on her. She knew she looked downright diminutive compared to the rows of powerful young men standing in silent, polished succession.

Her chin came up a fraction of an inch under the weight of Sasser’s stare. She was going to kick ass at this. Her plan was to separate from the pack and make a name for herself as someone other than a low-rung freshman like she’d been last year, or worse,
her daddy’s daughter
. Rich, entitled, and a
Wyatt
—the path to the future all laid out for her in a neat little row.

Sam knew what her father had in mind for her. Four years Navy, followed by business school, maybe marry one of the guys he would have vetted and approved of, then take over as the head of Wyatt Petroleum. Sam could see it all cascading, like dominoes falling one after another in perfect sync, right according to plan. Well, she wasn’t falling into lockstep just because Robert Wyatt expected her to. She didn’t believe in predestination. She believed in being her own woman, making her own calls. And taking on the Challenge was going to be the first big step toward proving it.

“This marks the beginning of a new year, cadets,” Sasser continued. “Another year in which you will be taught, tested, and refined into leaders prepared to assume the responsibilities of command, citizenship, and government. That requires the highest ideals of duty, the highest ideals of loyalty.”

And unbelievable endurance for physical and mental pressure
. Sam felt her resolve harden.

“You will learn how to manage yourselves and your teams under fire, how to solve problems you’ve never encountered before, and prepare yourselves to see the world in all its guts and all its glory.”

Another year. Only this year not as a
fish
, broken down before they’d begun the process of being rebuilt.

“You are not only responsible for your individual success. You are responsible for the success of your platoon. Your personal development does not happen without the growth of the team. And that is why you are here today,” he told them. “You will learn what it takes to be part of the best team in Ranger Challenge history. You will find out if you have what it takes to be among the best and brightest our young military talent has to offer.

“You will persevere,” Sasser continued. “You will excel. And you
will
suffer,” he promised. “Beginning today, you will train every day, sometimes twice a day, for the next seven weeks. You will spend your weekends running drills and performing training exercises while your friends go to football games and parties. And at the end of the training, the top nine cadets will be selected to enter the Challenge.”

And I’ll be one of them,
Sam promised herself.

“Every cadet here will have a chance to compete, but you must bring your best to the table during each and every field training exercise. And why?” he asked, holding his hand up to his ear.

“Because close is not good enough, sir!!”
the cadets shouted back, chanting Sasser’s motto.

“The 10K ruck march race is one of the requirements for the Ranger Challenge,” Sasser told them. “But I like to make sure you understand what you’re getting into beforehand.” His slow smile bordered on evil. “We start with a twelve miler today. Anybody over two hours automatically disqualifies.” He lifted his service weapon and fired into the sky. “
GO! GO! GO!”

Sam shifted her heavy pack and gripped her rifle, taking off in tight formation with her squad. Alejandro’s squad pulled up in front almost immediately, just in front of hers. He glanced at her as he passed, his lips pulled up in a sneer. Sam kept her head down as they raced down the road, Rita close behind.

As they broke through a clearing, Sam forged ahead, staying close behind Alejandro, keeping him sharp. She smiled grimly as he glanced over his shoulder at her—clearly pissed as she continued to keep up the pace.

Nothing will get in my way, De Soto.
Sam smiled.
Nothing and no one.

End of August—Friday Night, Two Weeks Later

Sam’s Apartment, College Station, Texas

S A M A N T H A

S
am’s front door
was practically shaking from the force of Rita’s insistent rapping.

“All right,
all right
—I’m coming!” Sam called out, toweling her wet hair as she approached the door.

“You’d better be getting ready like I told you to,” Rita announced as she trounced into Sam’s apartment, wearing the tightest dress Sam had ever seen, complete with spiked platform heels even a porn star would have balked at. Rita looked lush and gorgeous, with cinnamon skin and roundabout curves, the exact opposite of Sam’s lithe, almost gamine frame.

She made a beeline for Sam’s kitchen, pulling out a bottle of Cuervo from her massive handbag.

“I brought lube,” Rita told her with a saucy little wink.

“I can see that,” Sam replied dryly. “I’d like to point out you’re the only chick I know who rolls with her own bottle of tequila at all times.”

“Hey, you can never be too safe at these parties,
chica
,” Rita replied smartly as she poured them both shots. “Have you tasted the shit these frat boys serve? Lukewarm, flat beer from God only knows where?” Rita handed Sam a glass, toasting her with a clink before knocking back the shot.

Sam eyed the glass with trepidation. She wasn’t particularly fond of tequila, but she knew better than to argue with Rita, especially when she was about to mount a much larger battle and try to wiggle out of going out with her tonight. Sam threw the shot back quickly, struggling not to wince as the liquor burned down her throat.

“Sooo, about tonight…” Sam began carefully.

“Rita, think rationally,” Sam reasoned. “We’ve spent the last two weeks slogging our guts out with training, and classes have just started. We’ve both got to be up at 0500 tomorrow—”

Rita refilled their tequila shots before shoving the glass back into Sam’s hand. “Put this in your mouth and stop thinking. I don’t want to hear any of your serious, wet-blanket bullshit tonight, Sam—
I mean it
. I love you like a sister—like my own blood,” Rita told her seriously. “But I
will
cut you if you leave me hanging. You do not bail on your best friend the first good party weekend of our sophomore year. You’re my wing woman for God’s sake—”

“You mean, ‘sober companion,’” Sam replied wryly. “Saving you from bumping uglies with some Sigma Tau jackass when you’ve had too much of this shit,” she said, gesturing toward the shots.

“YES!
Yes
. It is
your
job to help a sister out here!” Rita rounded the counter, grabbing Sam’s hand as she tried to drag her back to her bedroom. “You are going out with me tonight, or I
will
kill you.”