Brass Monkey: A James Acton Thriller Book #2 by J Robert Kennedy Read Free Book Online

during basic training years ago, raised his glass in acknowledgement, then downed it in one shot as his men cheered him on. Dawson slammed the glass down with a satisfied roar, wiping his upper lip. He looked at the eleven men sitting with him at the long table. Some new, some he had served with for years. But all brothers. Brothers in covert arms. Burt Dawson, Command Sergeant Major, was the leader of Delta Team Bravo, in his opinion, and many others, the best group of operators in the Delta Force, the most highly trained black ops specialists the U.S. Military had to offer. The 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment – Delta was America’s answer to the growing problem of international terrorism and had served with distinction in many operations the American public knew nothing about. Dawson had served with the Delta Force for almost eight years, on missions from Iraq and Afghanistan, to Iran and Syria. All successes, all without credit.
    And he’d have it no other way.
    As events last year in London had proved, their work, and their identities, had to be kept under the radar, otherwise their lives, and those of their loved ones, could be forfeit. He had managed to escape just in time, the explosion from the missile sending him flying away from the helicopter, a gash in his leg that nearly ripped open his femoral artery his lone injury worth talking about, the others simply what he’d characterize as flesh wounds. Over six months of rehab and he was officially cleared again for active duty this very day.
    And it was time to celebrate.
    Niner downed his beer and called the waitress over for another round. Niner, whose grandparents moved to the United States after the Korean War, had gained his nickname in a bar fight years before when a redneck had called him “slant-eyed”. Niner had proven his wit quicker, slinging his own Asian insults, one of which was “nine iron”, then, with the help of some other Bravo Team members with him, beat the living shit out of the guy and his friends after they hadn’t taken well to the entire bar laughing at them. From then on he had insisted his nick name be “Nine Iron”, which was shortened to “Niner” over the years.
    Mike Belme, his best friend of over ten years, sat to his right. Nicknamed “Red” because of the fiery red hair he kept at bay with a Bowie knife, he was Dawson’s second-in-command, if you could call him that, the organization of a Delta unit very different than the traditional military unit, with all members of the same or similar rank. There were no officers here.
    Mixed in amongst the long term members were four new members since the events last year, replacements to those who had lost their lives in that mess. Stucco, who had done drywall before joining the forces, and Casey, whose Casey Kasem impersonation was uncanny, had joined the unit toward the end of the London events, and Dawson was pleased with their performance, especially in the aftermath. Despite not being deployed together, the way barbs easily fired back and forth with the long timers, the two newest members, Rook, who loved chess, and Temple, who was let off easy after a high school photo was found on the Internet with him drinking a Shirley Temple, had fit in well even with Dawson and half the team undergoing some type of rehabilitation after London. And with Dawson now back on active duty, the team was fully operational for the first time since London.
    And Dawson was itching to get back into the thick of it.
    Jimmy, named after Jimmy Olson once the team found out he had worked on his school newspaper, stood. “I’ve gotta drain the main vein.” He turned to Niner. “Ready?”
    Spock’s eyebrow shot up as the table erupted in laughter. Niner leaned back in his chair and eyeballed Jimmy.
    “What are we, a bunch of women?” He turned to the waitress. “Get my friend here a Shirley Temple!”
    Jimmy flushed and Temple shook his head. “But you said—”
    Niner threw his hand