Page 2 of Shielding his Legacy (Shattered SEALs #7)

Gavin put all his frustration into his fists as he pounded the heavy bag in HERO Force’s Manhattan office. His hands were taped inside his boxing gloves, his knuckles numb from the force of the impact. He’d been at it almost an hour – long enough that his doubts were beginning to quiet.

He came here to keep the voices at bay – the ones that told him he wouldn’t be able to do this, that he had nothing left to give. He’d already spent too much time—the better part of three years—accepting that truth, living with the aftermath of what he’d done.

It was time to try something else. Time to leave his self-imposed seclusion and reenter the world. Either he could contribute to it, or he could not, but he’d spent long enough avoiding this challenge.

He kicked the bag with his knee, then his ankle, the practiced martial arts moves more a part of his fighting repertoire than the punches.

His martial arts skill was more than just a passing ability—it was what made him a trained killer, lethal weapon, designed by Uncle Sam and used to his advantage.

The old resentment bubbled up inside him, and he worked to tamp it back down.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Razorback standing at the edge of the mat. “What’s up?”

Razorback walked toward him. “I just wanted to see how you are settling in.”

Gavin clenched his teeth. Razorback didn’t really want to know what he was dealing with, didn’t want to know about the stress that threaten to eat him alive. They were standing in a gym full of equipment made to hurt people, and Gavin didn’t even trust himself to use it. “Fine.”

“Bullshit.” Razorback moved to the heavy bag and executed a series of sharp jabs, the deeply scarred side of face articulated beneath the bright gym lights, its bits of pink contrasting with the deep brown skin on the rest of his body. “You were full of it then, and you’re full of it now.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“The truth might be a good place to start. How does it feel to be back?”

Gavin put his gloved hands on his hips. “This isn’t the military.”

“Nope. You couldn’t handle the military anymore, could you?”

Gavin turned away, frustration making him hot. “I did three tours. I put in my time.”

“Yes, and then you ran away to your mountain, shutting everyone out of your life and waiting to die.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. I needed to decompress.” It was a lie, and even as he said it, he knew it. He’d needed to fall apart, every cell of his being separating from the one next to it until his very life force stood at the brink of the ultimate decision.

I’m still here, aren’t I?

Too many men had chosen the alternative, and he understood their struggles more than he wanted to admit.

“I heard about what happened over there,” said Razorback.

Gavin shook his head. “You heard some. Not all.” No one who was there would repeat it. No way in hell. That was what happened when you did the unspeakable – you never spoke of it again, letting the words and memories eat you up from the inside out.

Razorback held out his arms, gesturing toward the mat. “Are you ready for your first match?”

“Just getting some cardio in. I’m not fighting anyone.”

Razorback raised his voice. “Cleats, come in here.”

Gavin turned to see the younger man enter the room.

Cleats McClintock could have passed for Gavin ten years ago—fit, agile, young, and stupid—unaware of the blows life might hold in store.

A feeling of dread made Gavin’s body heavy.

“What are you doing, Razorback?” he asked, a foreboding tone to his voice.

“It’s high time you try out your skills for real, don’t you think?” Razorback was testing him, forcing him into a direct physical confrontation with the other man.

Gavin’s pulse galloped, fresh sweat breaking through his skin, an eagerness to destroy that made his thoughts stop cold. This was what he was most afraid of—waking the dragon that slept in his mind. The highly trained animal inside him that had gained the upper hand. “No. I’m not doing this.”

“Don’t you want to see if you can control it? Isn’t that why you’re here?”

Gavin removed his boxing gloves. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He headed for the door.

“The darkness,” said Razorback.

He stopped moving, aware of the men behind him. Of course he knew. Razorback knew everything, that damn son of a bitch. “And if I can’t?” He turned to face them, gesturing to Cleats with his chin. “What if I hurt him?” He walked slowly to the younger man, meeting his stare. “If I kill him?”

Cleats spoke for the first time, one side of his face hitching up into the slightest expression of self-assurance. “I’m a good fighter.”

Gavin blew out air on a bitter laugh. “That’s exactly what will get you killed.”

Razorback took a step toward them. “Or you can make a different choice. You can fight him, even gain the upper hand, and choose not to hurt him. You need to see if you can tame the darkness. Because if you can’t, there is nothing left for you.

Everything you worked for, everything you’ve achieved, would be for nothing. ”

His friend’s voice could have come directly from the dragon, taunting him. This was it. The first of many tests if he was to truly come back to the world he left behind. He lifted his chin, battling the demon with his determination. “All right. Let’s fight.”

Cleats nodded. Gavin put his gloves back on as they made their way to the middle of the mat, images flashing through his mind, men begging for their lives in the moments before he took them.

It was his job. He was a valuable asset to the team, death a necessary evil.

But he’d never tried to stop it until now.

His stomach knotted as he bounced on the balls of his feet.

“Begin,” bit out Razorback.

Cleats threw the first punch, a solid blow to Gavin’s abdomen.

The adrenaline in Gavin system mixed with the pain, forming a heady drug he hadn’t tasted in far too long, the old neural pathways lit up like a junkie back on the pipe.

He went after Cleats instinctively, pummeling the young man in his gut, kidney, skull.

Careful.

He pulled back, giving Cleats a moment to regroup, bobbing as he waited for the next offensive. This was a game, an exercise, a trial. The tactical decisions were the point, not the final outcome. “You all right?”

Instead of answering, Cleats came at him with a one-two punch, Gavin succeeding in blocking only one of the blows. He focused his attention on an appropriate response, clocking the other man squarely in the jaw and backing off.

God, it felt good to hit someone. Too fucking good.

It had been too long, way too long since he’d been able to get out his physical aggression with someone who had even slightly comparable skill. There was no question in his mind he could take Cleats down if he wanted to, but so far that choice was firmly within his control.

He could stop right now and walk away if he chose to.

The men continued sparring, their intensity gradually increasing.

But when Cleats guided three successive hits to Gavin’s face, a switch inside Gavin flipped.

He was in the zone now, that place in his brain where a sequence of events could emerge unbidden, a roadmap of sorts to take the other man down.

Before he considered what he was doing, he had executed every step to perfection, Cleats on his back on the ground and Gavin hovering over him, his whole arm shaking from his determination not to throw the punch that would snap the other man’s neck dangerously sideways.

Time stopped. Gavin was face-to-face with the dragon, fighting for control of his actions like a fierce dog trying to let go of a meaty bone. He leaned back, slowly letting his arms drop to his sides before pushing to a stand and holding out his hand to help Cleats up.

The side of Cleats’ face was swelling, the beginning of a black eye a sickening reddish purple, blood pooling about his cheekbone. He took Gavin’s hand and stood, nodding once to Razorback before leaving the gym.

There was no pleasure in that moment. He was the drunk without a drink, the gambler fresh out of money, the chain smoker on his first day without a cigarette.

“Tell me what you’re feeling right now,” said Razorback.

Gavin turned away from him, again taking off the boxing gloves and throwing them into a corner of the room. “Why? So, you can congratulate me? Tell me I’m all better, that I won’t have any problems now that I’ve played your little game?”

“No. Tell me how it feels.” Razorback steps closer, whittling down the distance between them. “Tell me how it feels to have a man’s life in your hands again.”

“What are you, a fucking shrink?”

“No, but we have one on staff. You should talk to her.”

Gavin blew out air. He was well aware of Marina and what she did at HERO Force. She’d been on his back to meet with him for months. “No, thanks. You’ve made your own little island of misfit toys here, haven’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know damn well what I mean.” He gestured to the rest of the office beyond the gym doors.

“Every single one of those guys is fucked up. At first, I thought it was imagining it, but I’m not, am I?

You did this on purpose. You handpicked a bunch of SEALs who need a disability check a hell of a lot more than they need a job. ”

He’d thought HERO Force was what he wanted, a chance to get his life back, be useful again, reclaim something he’d lost. But Razorback had his own motivation for asking him here and Gavin was having none of it. “Well, count me out. I’m leaving the island.” He pushed past Razorback.

“So, what happens now? You go back to your cabin in the mountains and do no good for anybody for the rest of your life? Just waste everything you have. Throw it all away?”

Gavin was only feet from the door, so close to walking away, but he stopped.

Razorback spoke as if Gavin had something to give, skills that could do good in the world instead of bad, and the thought resonated inside him.

It was why he’d enlisted in the first place, but reality had turned out very different from his expectations.

A part of him still wanted it. But was he any better than the day he’d retired, throwing his metals into the Hudson River with a guttural cry? “I wanted to work for you.”

“So, stay. Your blinded by one thing. One thing about your past and you’re letting it destroy you. You didn’t kill Cleats. You are capable of discriminating between an enemy who needs to be terminated and someone who does not.”

Gavin shook his head, turning to face Razorback. “One fight doesn’t fix everything. One fight doesn’t mean I’m okay.”

“I saw your eyes. You were ready to kill him, but you backed off. You made the decision, and you backed off.”

Razorback was offering him a way out of the darkness. It wouldn’t be easy. Hell, he might not even make it. But didn’t he have to try?

The doors to the gym opened, Mooch sticking his head in. “DeGrey, somebody’s here to see you.”

He furrowed his brow. Nobody even knew he was in town. “Who is it?”

“I don’t know. Some girl with a baby.”