Read Unleashed (Mr. Black Series Book 1) Online
Authors: Penelope Marshall
Unleashed (Mr. Black Series Book 1) (11 page)
I tried to run after her but Correa grabbed my arm and pulled me back.
“Let her go! We need to get inside, Lieutenant,” Correa implored. “She’s not worth your life.”
I straightened up and cleared the lump in his throat. “But
she
is,” I whispered as I watched Nasima run over the flat lands, dirt kicking up behind her.
She turned for a moment and looked at me, then continued on with her run.
I could feel another large hand grab my arm. “Sir, please?” Morales implored.
He propped his arm under my arm, helping Correa carry me backwards through the gates, which locked shut as we cleared them. That was the last time I saw her…a faint silhouette of an angel wrapped in a gray wool blanket, disappearing into a sea of clay and concrete; selfishly taking my heart and soul with her.
A few weeks after the rescue, I found myself sitting on the deck of a navy destroyer as it cut through the waves on its way to dock in Norfolk, Virginia. My mind still tangled with angst about the love I found then lost so suddenly. In my hands I held an empty green beer bottle, which whistled as the wind whipped over its rim. It was a remnant from a party the guys had thrown the night before to honor the commander and the rest of my fallen brothers.
I, being the only survivor, was the guest of honor, but I didn’t feel much like celebrating. Not with the loss of my team and mentor, and certainly not with Nasima constantly running through my mind. My heart was broken, and I found it hard to breathe easily since it felt as though my chest bore the weight of a thousand destroyers. I looked out into the choppy water, wondering what she might be doing, or if she were even alive.
How could I let her go?
I shook my head and sighed.
You know I loved a good woman once.
The faint voice of the commander wafted through my mind.
I smiled, knowing he was talking about his wife. “We all aren’t that lucky, sir.”
The faint voice chuckled.
Hell, son, there ain’t nothing lucky about love. That shit is work. You were there. You knew what I had to go through to get that girl!
I cracked a smile.
Do you love that girl?
I didn’t want to answer. Admitting that I loved her would just make the pain sear deeper; a pain I was not ready to face, so I changed the subject.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, sir,” I whispered.
Don’t be sorry, you son of a bitch. I was an old man, lived a good life, and went on one too many missions. Sometimes you gamble, and you lose. It’s the name of the game.
“Still.”
You got the muthafucker, didn’t you?
“Yes, sir.”
I have never been more proud of a SEAL…would’ve been proud to call you my son.
I wiped the tear that cascaded down my cheek. “Hooyah, sir. I would’ve been proud to call you my dad.”
The voice didn’t respond, but a heavy weight lifted off me, and I knew then I no longer had to carry the burden of the commander’s death on my shoulders. Looking down at the small piece of paper, I rolled it up as tightly as I could and slid it through the opening of the bottle. The paper was a letter to Nasima, in which I wrote:
My Dearest Nasima,
This life has taken so much of me, and the world still requires much more. I have easily maneuvered my way through the thickness of life’s jungles yet take so many wrong turns in the simple clearing of its meadows. I would shed so much of myself to walk by your side since I come to your door shattered, eroded with holes of anxiety, of fear, of carnal needs. I wish my way were like yours―unwavering, and full of hope, but as the days pass, it has become quite clear that no amount of wishing I were different could actually make me so. I pray that the Lord transform me into a man without needs, but He has yet to answer, and I haven’t the strength to alter myself. I pray so often to be changed into the man I know you hunger for. Struggle to lay waste to the parts of me that you hate, but the repulsive parts, the envious parts, and the parts that want to interact with you in the subtle intangibles; they still breathe within me. I long to dominate you in ways you know nothing of. Don’t you see that even in a love letter I still reference my selfish dependence on you? Perhaps one day you can have the man that we both wish I were.
Always, Elijah
I grabbed onto the railing to pull myself up from of the edge of the bow. I knew this was the end of our relationship; a relationship I never knew I wanted, but deep down always knew I needed. Taking one last look at the bottle, I exhaled and flung it as far as I could into the deep blue sea. I watched the bottle glisten in the sun as it bounced off the face of the water and finally sank; disappearing from my view.
***
A couple months later in San Diego
…
I sipped on my beer while soaking up the hot California sun, looking out into the Pacific Ocean. The water was rife with surfers and navy destroyers anchored just off shore. I was thankful to be home again…scars and all. Tossing back another swig of beer, a shadow fell over me, but the glare of the sun hid the stranger’s face from view. Her legs were long and slender, and she wore a white see-through lace dress with only a small black bikini underneath. I squinted trying to make out who was standing over me.
She turned to look toward the water, her body twisting to the side, revealing the silhouette of an ever-so-slightly swollen belly.
Her lips parted, and the soft words, “Hello, Elijah,” spilled from her lips.
I shot up from the sand. It was a voice I recognized from my dreams.
“Nasima?”
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Acknowledgements
I’d like to thank everyone who helped make this book possible:
My wonderful 12th grade English teacher, Beverly, who believed in me before anyone else knew there was something to believe in.
My dad, who read, and reread every version searching for story holes.
Alma, for always talking me off the ledge.
Irma, who threatened bodily harm if I stopped writing.
My wonderful friends, who are always willing to read anything I throw at them, Josan, Heather, Liz, Avril, and Jeanette.
About the Author
Penelope Marshall was born in the Philippines, and raised in Southern California.
She picked up writing in early 2016 and instantly fell in love with the craft. Her writing runs the romance gamut from sweet romantic comedies, to tough alpha male military suspense thrillers, with a little young adult, and paranormal thrown into the mix.
A good plot twist is what drives Penelope’s writing, striving for that jaw dropping moment at the end of each book.
