The Cuban Incident Read online

  She stepped off the porch and walked toward the lane that led to the house in which she had been born twenty years ago. She loved it here. Her family had farmed this land for generations, since before the revolution. After the new regime had taken over, they had granted special dispensation to many generational farmers to continue, including her family. If she remained here, as she seemed destined to, she hoped the tradition would continue when she married and had her own children.

  Thoughts of a more exciting life tempted many of her friends to move to the city, but that wasn’t her. Farming was in her blood, and the few times she had been to Havana, she had found the experience entirely unpleasant.

  It was too communist. Too restrictive.

  Here on the farm, it was sometimes possible to forget how dreadful things were in a dictatorship. Her grandfather told stories of what things used to be like and of the time he had traveled to America in his youth. Among her friends, contraband books and movies circulated, and she could get a taste of what life was like outside of her hamstrung country, of what it must be like to be free, to not worry that in the middle of the night soldiers might come for you or your family.

  She sighed. America. She turned to face the sea, wistfully staring into the distance toward the country that was so close. Ninety miles for a new life. To say she hadn’t been tempted to make the journey would be a lie. She had some friends who had tried it, and she had never seen them again. Had they been caught and imprisoned or executed? Had they been lost at sea? Or were they now enjoying life in the greatest country in the world, free to do what they wanted, when they wanted, free from a tyrannical government desperate to maintain its grip on power?

  Something glinted on shore and she turned her head slightly, her eyes narrowing.

  What’s that?

  Her eyes flitted toward the dark horizon, a reminder of what had happened overnight, and it had her wondering if a ship had wrecked. She hurried back inside and put proper boots on. “I’m going to the beach.”

  Her mother clucked. “You’ve got chores to do.”

  “I saw something. I think there might be a ship wrecked there.”

  Her mother stopped washing the dishes. “Are you sure?”

  Maricela shook her head. “No, but I caught the sun glinting off something. It could be nothing, but somebody might be hurt.”

  “Then you should wait for your father or your brothers to come in from tending to the animals.”

  “No, if they’re hurt, they’re going to need help right away. I’ll go and check it out. Just tell them to meet me when they’re finished.”

  “Take the first aid kit.”

  She nodded and retrieved it from under the bench at the front entrance, then hurried out the door, sprinting toward the beach. Life on the farm was rewarding, though rarely exciting, and this was the fastest her heart had beat in a long time. She reached the top of the ridge lining the beach and stared down at the sight below.

  And her jaw dropped.

  6 |

  1st Special Forces Operational Detachment—Delta HQ Fort Bragg, North Carolina A.k.a. “The Unit”

  “Give me one good reason why you shouldn’t give me her phone number.”

  Sergeant Leon “Atlas” James broke, the cue ball snapping against the racked table, balls scattering in every which direction, two solids going down. The big man rose, satisfied. “Well, first of all, she’s way too tall for you.”

  Several of the other guys snickered, but Sergeant Carl “Niner” Sung was having none of that. “What the hell are you talking about? She was standing right beside Vanessa, and she was obviously shorter.”

  “Vanessa’s a tall woman.”

  “I’m taller than Vanessa.”

  “So, you’re saying you’re a tall woman too?” Atlas sank the six-ball then slowly rounded the table, searching for his next shot.

  Niner stabbed his cue at the impossibly muscled Atlas. “Ha-ha. I said, give me one good reason. And I’m still waiting.”

  “She’s Vanessa’s best friend.”

  “So?”

  “So, if you two hit it off, then the two of you are going to be over at my place all the time. You’ll be driving me nuts.”

  Sergeant Will “Spock” Lightman cocked an eyebrow. “That’s not a very good excuse.”

  Atlas glanced over his shoulder at the man. “I don’t recall inviting you into the conversation.”

  Spock shrugged. “Just helping out my boy here. If I can get him laid, he might stop sport-humping all of us.”

  Niner batted a dainty hand at him. “You like it and you know it.”

  Spock gave him a look then tilted his head toward Atlas. “Please give the man her number.”

  Atlas grunted. “I’m still waiting for a reason why I should risk my own serenity so he can score.”

  “You don’t need one. You know his track record with women. It’ll last two dates, three tops, and then he’ll do or say something that’ll screw it up and she’ll be running in the opposite direction. Worst case scenario, you have a double date with the man.”

  Atlas eyed Spock. “Have you ever been on a double date with him? It’s seriously painful. Like, I mean physically. He thinks he’s got moves, but they’re pitiful. It’s embarrassing to watch.” He cursed as he missed his shot.

  Niner chalked up his cue, cockily strolling over to the table. “I’ll tell you what. If I beat you, then you give me her number, but if you beat me, Vanessa gives me her number.”

  “Think again, hobbit.”

  “Okay, fine. If you beat me, I drop it. But just remember, this is the first woman I’ve actually hit it off with since Korea.”

  Atlas regarded his best friend. They had known each other for years, and, until Vanessa had come into his life, had spent so much time together, he thought of the little shit as a brother. He glanced around the room at the rest of Bravo Team, and it was obvious from their eyes that everyone was recalling the events of Korea and the tragic death of their liaison that Niner had bonded with.

  Atlas stared at the table, chewing his cheek. “You haven’t beaten me in a month.”

  Niner shrugged as he positioned his cue. “Now, why do you think that is?”

  Atlas stared at him. “Huh?”

  “For a Special Forces operator, you don’t pay too much attention, now, do you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Niner switched his pool cue to the other hand. “I’m right-handed. I’ve been playing left for a month just to hone my skills. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m about to put on a clinic.”

  He made quick work of the table, lining up his final shot on the eight-ball. Atlas suppressed a smile as he said a silent prayer for his friend, whom he had always intended to give the number to, to not screw up the easy shot. But his friend got cocky, as Atlas feared he would. Niner turned his head away from the shot, staring directly into Atlas’ eyes as he pulled back the cue then struck the ball. It raced across the nearly empty table, cracking against the eight-ball. Everyone rose and approached the table to see what was happening, then groaned as the ball rattled around the pocket and sat just on the edge.

  Atlas spotted his friend’s grin slowly fading as his eyes squeezed shut.

  “Please tell me their reaction was because they don’t want to see me happy, and not because I missed the shot.” His friend sounded terribly disappointed.

  Atlas lunged forward and kicked the table, the ball dropping in the pocket. “Nope. I guess they just hate you.”

  Niner opened his eyes a sliver and gingerly glanced back. Seeing the eight-ball was down, he tossed his cue on the table then threw his hands up in the air, executing an embarrassing victory dance. “Thank God you all hate me. I thought I missed that shot.” He jabbed a finger at the group. “We’ll be having words about this later.”

  Sergeant Gerry “Jimmy Olsen” Hudson grunted. “Your gums never stop flapping, so I have no doubt.”

  “Talk like that won’t get you an invitation to the
wedding.”

  “How about we get past the first date before you start picking out your dress?”

  Sergeant Eugene “Jagger” Thomas stepped forward and reset the table as Atlas pulled out his cellphone. He jabbed a meaty finger into Niner’s chest.

  “I’ll ask Vanessa to see if Angela’s interested. If she is, you’ll get her number, but you have to promise me that whatever your instincts tell you to do, you do the damned opposite. Otherwise, this won’t last past the first conversation.”

  “Hey, I’ll be the perfect gentleman.”

  Atlas eyed him. “I’m not sure you know what that means.” He sent a quick text message to his girlfriend.

  Niner wants Angela’s number. Let me know what you think.

  His phone vibrated moments later as Jagger broke, the response not going unnoticed by Niner.

  “Well, what did she say?”

  Atlas was surprised at the butterflies in his stomach, and couldn’t suppress the smile as he showed Niner the message.

  Angela already asked me for his number and I gave it to her a little while ago.

  Niner’s eyes shot wide and he rushed over to the coatrack, fishing his phone out of the pocket. He cursed, but the happiness on his face was unmistakable.

  “She texted you?”

  “Yeah, she wants to go for coffee.”

  “Even you shouldn’t be able to screw up coffee,” said Spock as he took his shot.

  “I wouldn’t count on it,” rumbled Atlas. “If there’s a way, he’ll find it.”

  “Are you going to reply back?” asked Spock.

  Niner chewed his cheek. “Of course. I’m just wondering how long I should wait.”

  “Oh, shit, there he goes, playing it cool,” said Jimmy. “You’re going to have this thing screwed up before you even get that coffee.”

  “Fine.” Niner fired off a text message and hit Send. His phone vibrated a few moments later, and he grinned, holding it up. “She said she’s free right now.” He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. “See you, losers.”

  Everyone in the room flipped him the bird as he disappeared through the door.

  Spock sank the eight-ball out of turn, muttering a string of curses before turning to Atlas. “What do you think his chances are?”

  Atlas shook his head. “Normally, I’d say slim to none, but if you saw the two of them chit-chatting last night, they must have talked for hours. Why the hell he didn’t ask for her number then, I don’t know.”

  Jagger pursed his monster lips. “He was probably too shocked that a girl was actually talking to him longer than five minutes.”

  Everyone laughed, Niner’s habit of continually joking usually enough to sabotage any encounter with a woman, most probably assuming he was covering for some underlying insecurity that would make him damaged goods. If it were true, nobody was aware of what might have happened in his past to cause him to be the way he was.

  But everyone to a man loved the guy, and would do anything for him.

  Command Sergeant Major Burt “Big Dog” Dawson, the big dog of Bravo team, poked his head in the room. “No more beers.” He disappeared, and everyone stared at their bottles of water and sodas.

  Spock’s eyebrow shot up. “Does he not know what time it is?”

  Sergeant Danny “Casey” Martin shrugged. “I’m not sure I even know what time it is. I don’t even know what day it is.”

  Atlas’ eyes roamed the room, confirming there wasn’t an alcoholic drink in sight. There were a few hangovers in the room from the party last night at his place where Niner had met Angela, but there wasn’t a lot of truly heavy drinking in this group unless they were on leave. Command could call them up at any moment, and they’d be expected to be at the top of their game, and that meant sober and not suffering. But sometimes even a few adult beverages could have the head gently pounding the next morning. “Did anybody watch the news this morning? That might give a hint as to where we might be going.”

  Head shakes from around the room.

  “Maybe it’s not a mission,” suggested Jagger. “Maybe BD’s going to finally announce a date for that wedding they’ve been putting off.”

  Sergeant Trip “Mickey” McDonald shook his head, his large ears wagging slightly. “Nah, I heard Maggie talking to the girls last night. She’s still waiting for her hairline to fill in properly. She wants the wedding photos to be perfect.”

  Atlas frowned. “I can’t see it. Her hair looks perfectly normal to me. I think it’s psychological. She had one hell of a traumatic experience. Not everybody gets shot in the head and survives.”

  “Well, if she doesn’t get over it, Niner could be getting married before BD does.”

  Spock’s eyebrow cocked. “He didn’t leave the base, did he?”

  Atlas looked at him. “Huh?”

  “Well, he’s on standby and he just ran off on a date.”

  “Shit, I didn’t think of that.”

  “He didn’t say where he was going, did he?”

  Atlas shook his head. “No, but Angela works weekends at the Exchange, so it makes sense that they’d go to coffee on base.”

  “You’d better make sure. We could be deploying.”

  Atlas hauled out his phone and sent a text, praying he wasn’t about to screw up his best friend’s first chance at a relationship in a long time.

  7 |

  Outside Dimas, Pinar del Rio, Cuba

  Maricela sprinted toward the beached boat. Its bow was out of the water, though it appeared to be in good condition, and the owners might re-float it. She was no expert in boats, but this one was nicer than anything she had seen before. She hesitated. It likely meant some corrupt government official owned it, and getting involved in a rescue of a person like that could be a double-edged sword. If she saved a life, she could be rewarded. But if she failed, she could be blamed.

  Something snapped in the wind overhead and she glanced up, her heart leaping into her throat at the sight of an American flag. She spun around, surveying the area. If the authorities caught her helping Americans, she might get in trouble, though if she did help them, it could provide her with a valuable contact in the country she dreamed of living in one day. She couldn’t see anyone, so she resumed her approach, though more cautiously this time, listening for any vehicles that might signal the government was arriving.

  She spotted a ladder on the left-hand side of the boat, the side farther from the ground due to the tilt of the hull. She reached up and grabbed the bottom rung, then hauled herself far enough up that she could get her left foot in position. She scrambled up to the deck, but before she set foot on it, she used her new vantage point to confirm she was still alone. Finding no one in sight, she climbed onto the deck, struggling to maintain her balance.

  “Hello!” she called out in English, a language her parents had insisted she and her brothers learn, claiming it would give them options in the future. She rarely spoke it outside of the home. In fact, she couldn’t recall the last time she had uttered a word of English off the farm. She called again, this time louder. “Hello! Is anyone here?”

  And again, she heard nothing.

  She made her way toward the rear of the vessel and around the back of the superstructure that would contain the bridge, where any survivors would likely be located. Yet if there were any, they should have heard her, and it had her wondering if the crew had abandoned the boat before it washed ashore in the storm. She rounded the corner to the other side, her feet sliding on the slick surface, the railing catching her from dumping over into the shallow water below. She yelped as she held on, her heart hammering. She stared down at the waves lapping at the shore below her, then flipped over so her back was resting against the railing, giving her a view of the boat angled above her.

  And her eyes shot wide as she spotted a body not ten feet from her, leaning against the very rail supporting her. She pulled herself toward her discovery, then knelt beside the man, uncertain whether he was alive. She reached out with
one hand and placed her fingers on his neck, searching for a pulse. The skin was still warm to the touch, and as she probed with her fingers, she smiled in glee as she found a faint heartbeat. “Sir, can you hear me?”

  There was no reply. She wasn’t sure what to do. She reached for the first aid kit over her shoulder before stopping. What was she supposed to do with it? She couldn’t see any obvious wounds, but something had clearly happened to the man. She thought back to the first aid training she had received when she was younger, struggling to remember what she should do in a situation like this.

  Her heart jumped as she remembered. She had to assess the victim for injuries that might not be visible to the naked eye. She began at his feet, slowly working her way up one leg and then the other, searching for anything unusual, any broken bones, any swelling, any protrusions, any reaction from the patient. But there was nothing. She reached for his left arm and stopped, finding the lower part at an unnatural angle. She carefully made her way down the upper arm to the lower, pressing as gently as she could against where she thought the break might be. The man gasped, his eyes opening wide for a moment. She removed her hand.

  “Don’t worry, I’m here to help.”

  The man’s eyes fluttered shut. “Where am—” His voice trailed off as he passed out once again.

  “Maricela, where are you?”

  She sighed with relief at her younger brother Maceo. “I’m up here!” she called. “There’s an injured man. There’s a ladder on your right.”

  “Just a second.”

  She heard him climb the ladder, then another set of feet hit the rungs, indicating her youngest brother was here as well.

  “Where are you?”

  “Come around to the other side, but watch your step, it’s slippery.” There was a thud followed by Javiero’s curses, the fool not heeding her warning. She heard them gingerly make their way to the rear of the boat and then around the superstructure housing the bridge. She glanced over her shoulder at them. “He’s got a broken arm and he’s passed out, but he’s alive.”