Page 33 of Holding the Line
That earned a wide smile, and Eli surged forward, tackling him back onto the bed with a joyful, “Shut up and kiss me again.”
And Marsh did—until words didn’t matter anymore.
****
White sat in a dim, low-budget hotel room on the outskirts of Jackson, Wyoming, a far cry from the crisp, manicured surroundings of his home on the outskirts of New York city.The blinds were drawn tight—the musty curtains stained with years of cigarette smoke and something darker.An untouched coffee sat next to a legal pad littered with angry red scribbles.His once-pristine uniform shirt was wrinkled, collar askew, and his hair stuck up in erratic tufts, the wayward product of too many sleepless nights and far too little control.
His eyes were bloodshot, twitching with the fraying edge of restraint.
Clive Harris stood near the door, arms crossed.“Sir, maybe you should shower.Get some sleep.You’re starting to—”
“Starting to what?”White snapped, standing so abruptly the chair toppled behind him.“Look the part I’ve been forced into?”
Clive didn’t flinch, but he didn’t press either.He’d seen what happened when White’s temper boiled.“Just ...you’re not yourself, Colonel.”
White’s laugh was short, sharp, and bitter.“I am myself.I am the only one who remembers what command means.What discipline is.And I’m the only one who knows what that manipulative little fuck actually is.”
Clive stayed silent.
White turned away, jaw clenched and picked up his phone.He scrolled through contacts until he landed on a locked folder—names and numbers that shouldn’t exist.But they did.Because he made sure of it.Each man listed there was a ghost in the system.Officially discharged with honors.Unofficially?Thieves.Murderers.But they’d been useful once—and would be again.
He hit CALL.
A gruff voice answered.“Colonel.”
“Get your team together.I want you in Jackson in thirty-six hours.Bring everything.I’m sending you the Ridge coordinates.You’re not breaching—yet.Just ...send a message.A loud one.Something to remind that little therapist what happens when he runs.”
The voice asked, sounding almost bored.“Casualties?”
White’s lips curled.“No bodies yet.But make it painful.Scare him.Shake him loose.Remind him who he belongs to.”
“Understood.”
White hung up and tossed the phone onto the bed.He walked to the grimy mirror and stared.His reflection barely registered.The wildness in his eyes, the crack in the pristine exterior.The mask was slipping.
But Eli would come back.
He’d come back scared, broken, and begging.Just like he used to.
And this time, he wouldn’t let him go.