Noah, p.1
NOAH, page 1
NOAH
Steel Patriots MC
Book 12
Mary Kennedy
Copyright © 2020 by Mary Kennedy
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be constructed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission form the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
CHAPTER ONE
“What’s he doing?” asked Olivia Anders looking over the shoulder of her husband. He was watching their son in the backyard of their home in Hammarstrand, Sweden. He smiled at his wife, sipping his cup of tea as he did.
“I told him I wanted that tree gone, but that it couldn’t be removed because it was too big,” Josef said smiling at his wife.
“Josef! That’s a terrible thing to do! You know when you challenge him or tell him something cannot be done; he sees it as a chance to prove you wrong. You are evil!”
“Of course, I know,” chuckled Josef. “I want that tree out of the backyard and I didn’t want to do it myself. Look at him. Twelve years old and he already looks like a full-grown man.”
“He takes after his father physically, but he’s a full-grown man mentally because he’s so serious all the time, Josef. He spends too much time trying to be a man. I want him to be a boy a while longer. I want him to enjoy playtime. He needs to take up a hobby, sailing or something…anything to make him stop being such a solemn boy.”
“There is nothing wrong with being a serious boy,” said Josef hugging his wife. “He’ll accomplish great things in the future. He’s a man that will see something he wants and take it, but with kindness and intelligence. I’m very proud of the man we’re raising.”
Olivia frowned at her husband for a moment and then nodded. Noah was becoming an exceptional young man, excelling in academics and superior in athletics at school. Outside of school is where he struggled. He had only one friend that she was aware, and Nils and his family lived a few miles away, making it difficult for them to play often.
Now she watched her pre-teen son pushing the bottom half of the small pear tree back and forth, finally dirt flying as the roots gave way. Staring down at the fallen tree, Noah screamed with satisfaction, Josef laughing with his son.
“See, I told you he would get it done,” grinned Josef at his wife. Kissing her forehead, he walked into the backyard, gripping his sons’ hand in a firm shake. Noah smiled at his father, sweat rolling down his already muscled young body. It would be three years later when Olivia would argue that Noah was too young to take his examinations to exit secondary school and go on to university.
But neither Noah nor his father would be deterred. Packing his bags at sixteen, he left for Uppsala and never looked back. He was already over six-feet-four and looked the same age as many students in their final year of university.
University for Noah was not the same as the average American college student. He didn’t join a fraternity, he didn’t attend wild parties, he didn’t screw everything in a skirt, and he most certainly didn’t get drunk ever weekend. His plan was to finish his studies and get out. The problem for Noah was that it also didn’t win him any friends, which made for a very lonely existence.
After finishing his engineering degree, he returned home to a congratulatory party thrown by his parents. There were neighbors and relatives, most of whom Noah barely knew. The only person he was thrilled to see, other than his parents, was Nils.
“Look who returns the victor!” yelled Nils as he pulled him into a big bear hug.
“I’m no victor,” smiled Noah. “I just finished school, that’s all. When will you be returning to finish?”
“Never!” said Nils triumphantly. “Well, maybe never. I’m joining the Army, Noah. I want to be part of the SOG.”
“The SOG? Nils…that’s very difficult and very dangerous,” concern filling his face as he looked at his friend. Nils was a wonderful friend, always full of life, joking, and making everyone smile, but he was also impulsive and acted recklessly for the most part.
“I know, which is why you should join with me,” grinned Nils.
“Join with you? I don’t know Nils, mother and father expect me to…”
“Yes, yes, they expect you to take some boring engineering job with the government or some private contractor, building practical office buildings or blasting roads through the mountains. All very exciting. Noah, we can make a difference by doing this. A bigger difference than being an engineer or a teacher, that’s for damn sure.”
Noah looked at his friend, his heart thumping furiously in his chest. Looking toward his parents, their faces so proud of his accomplishments at such a young age, he couldn’t imagine breaking their hearts, but he also heard a painful grain of truth in what Nils said. Becoming an engineer was not what he wanted, but what his parents wanted. It bored him to death.
“They’ll understand, Noah. Look, just join with me for two years. If you don’t like it, leave.”
“I’ll sleep on it, Nils. When are you going to the recruitment office?”
“Tomorrow.” Nils puffed out his chest proudly, as if he’d found the secret to manhood.
“Tomorrow? So soon?” Noah frowned, looking down at Nils. Tomorrow. He’d hoped that he and Nils could do some traveling this summer, maybe go to America for a month.
“Yes. I’ll be there when the doors open at nine a.m. If you’re there, wonderful. If not, I understand Noah. I’ll write you; I promise.”
Noah watched his friend walk away and knew that it could be the last time he ever saw him. Then it hit him. Nils was really his only friend. If he left, he’d have no one except his parents. Making friends, for Noah, was like learning to write with the opposite hand. It was uncomfortable, awkward, and always ended up messy. Nils was the only boy he’d ever been able to speak with easily.
More than a year later, he remembered that moment so clearly as if it were yesterday; the moment he knew that he would follow Nils. Where Noah was naturally big, strong and agile; Nils had to work hard at being an exceptional athlete. Where Noah was a fast, adept learner; Nils had to study twice as hard. Their efforts paid off when they were approached to join the SOG.
The SOG training, much like the American’s version of the Navy SEALs or Army Rangers; or like the British SAS, was extraordinarily difficult to complete. Together, they did it. Now they were in a fight that might be their last. Rebels were approaching quickly from all sides; the SOS put out to the nearby Americans.
“Anders!” yelled his commander. “Cover me!” Noah nodded, firing at the oncoming guerillas. This small African country was always in turmoil, but this time the SOG was trying to get their newly elected leader safely to the capitol. Hundreds of rebels armed with machetes and machine guns stormed their convoy.
“I’ve got the rear,” said Nils moving away from Noah toward the foothills.
“No! We wait as ordered. Air support is coming,” he said harshly to Nils. Nils turned back at him, just grinning and blew him a kiss. As the bullets flew past his head, Noah steeled himself against the fighters, taking them out easily with one shot each time. He was incomparable at all disciplines and part of that was because of his calm demeanor.
Just when Noah thought they might be overrun; he heard the sounds of the helicopters and jets from their American counterparts. As expected, the rebels scattered, leaving the convoy and the president alive and well.
“I think…” said Nils walking toward him, “…I think I need to lie down.” Nils fell forward, Noah catching him before he hit the dirt face first.
“Nils? Nils? Medic!” he screamed. The team’s medic rushed toward them as Noah held Nils’ head in his lap. “Hold on Nils, they’re going to get you on the American helicopter.”
“Those machines are wonderful aren’t they Noah? The Americans…the Americans are…fun…we’ll have a beer…”
“Shut up, Nils! You fool…you idiot!” yelled Noah. He was angry with Nils for breaking orders and trying to be the hero. He’d unnecessarily risked his life, when they all knew that help was on the way.
“Always…so serious…it was fun, wasn’t it, Noah,” said Nils, blood trickling from his open mouth. Noah shook his head. Nils, always the jokester, never taking anything seriously, even dying.
“Yes, Nils…it was fun.” He died right there in his lap. His own medic and the Americans tried to bring him back, but it was no use. He was gone.
Noah returned to bury his friend in their hometown; hundreds of classmates standing beside the grave, most of whom didn’t even acknowledge Noah’s presence. His parents attempted to get him to stay, but he would have nothing of it, returning immediately to his team. It would be six more years before he left the SOG, and not on his own terms.
Leaving the administration building, he looked up at the sky, storm clouds moving in. It was time for a new life. He mounted his custom-made motorcycle, speeding away from pain…and memories.
CHAPTER TWO
Although Noah had visited the U.S. on many occasions, he’d never attempted to work within the country. Getting a work VISA wasn’t as challenging as he’d believed. But he suspected, the company whom he was interviewing with had a great deal to do with that.
A woman claiming to be their attorney, by the name of Katarina English, completed his paperwork and helped to get it pushed through. Now all he needed to do was pass the interview. Meeting three other men at the airport, they shared a ride to the mountain complex of the team known as the Steel Patriots.
Noah knew that they produced some of the finest motorcycles in the country, but what he was more interested in, was their work helping those in need. This was his last chance to find a place to call home, having been turned away by several contractors in Europe. He would never return to Sweden again.
The compound was surrounded by twelve-foot fences, the gates an ornate steel structure with the logo of the Steel Patriots emblazoned on each side. It was impressive and something about it made Noah want to plant roots.
The man driving, pushed the intercom and waited.
“Can we help you?” asked the voice on the other end of the line.
“Yes, we have an appointment with Ghost and the team. This is Bryce Nolan and I have the three other candidates with me.”
“Hey Bryce, this is Ace. Come through.” Ace walked toward the front door to let the four men inside.
Noah stood from the vehicle with the others, stretching his body as he did. Bones popped and cracked; his height always causing him to have to hunch in cars. It was why he enjoyed riding so much, he didn’t have to hunch over on a motorcycle. The sky was his only ceiling.
Noah heard one of the men inside asking another, who Noah Anders was, as they opened the front doors. He also heard him utter the word SOG, and the groans and whistles followed. He felt a sense of pride in knowing that this room of men were some of the finest, fiercest warriors on the planet. He’d be honored to be included in their company.
“SOG,” said the voice. The group of men behind him let out a long slow whistle. The SOG was the Särskild Operations Group, or special forces for Sweden. They were a special operations unit within the Swedish armed forces. Although young in their existence, they were highly qualified warriors and highly sought after by allies. Most of the men were trained in a multitude of special forces disciplines and spoke several languages.
“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” said a lean, dark-haired man grinning at Bryce and Griffin. Both Bryce and Griffin topped six-foot-two, both with dark hair. That was where the similarities ended. Bryce had startling blue eyes and a thick dark beard, whereas Griffin had brown eyes and a weathered, wrinkled face.
“Hello boys,” smiled Bryce. “How the hell are you?” Noah just continued to look ahead, not wishing to give anything away in the moment, unsure of whether he would be accepted. He was more excited than he’d ever been, but in his experience if you let that show, it often never ended well for you.
“Bryce,” said Ghost extending a hand. “Nice to see you brother. Griff.” He shook both men’s hands and then stepped back waiting for introductions. The team was aware of Bryce and Griffin but had not met Tristan and Noah.
“Ghost, boys…this is Tristan Evers, former Delta. He worked with Trak down at REAPER on and off the last years of their service.” Noah didn’t move a muscle, but he knew of the man, Trak. If there was ever a warrior he would fear, Trak Redhawk was him.
“Damn,” smiled the large black man, “you pick dangerous friends.” Tristan’s face grew wide with a smile, his red hair and green eyes lending more to a mischievous schoolboy than a Delta operative.
“Naw, man. I pick friends who can keep me alive,” he smiled. That brought a few laughs. Although they hadn’t all met Joseph “Trak” Redhawk with REAPER, they knew his reputation and that was enough to earn their respect.
“This is Noah Anders, former SOG,” said Bryce. Noah stepped forward, his massive body towering over everyone in the room. If there were a picture of what Norse Gods should look like, Noah’s face would be on that picture. Zulu and Skull both looked up at him grinning. He was easily six-foot-seven, his blonde hair cut close to his head, the top slightly longer. His blue eyes gave no inkling of emotion.
“Hello,” he said quietly. Noah wasn’t sure why he didn’t say more. His nerves were getting the best of him. In the back of his head, he could hear Nils shouting at him.
Step up you big idiot! Tell them who you are!
“I know Bryce and Griff, but can you tell me a bit about you and your time in service?” asked Ghost staring up at the man.
“No,” he said firmly. This was a test; he just knew it. Special forces were never to reveal who they were, where they worked, or what they did.
“No? Brother, this is a job interview. I have the highest security clearance given to special forces operators, nothing you say will leave this room.” The big man stood across from Noah, silver peppering his beard, his hair slightly longer than his chin. His intense gaze would have made lesser men squirm, but Noah was not a lesser man. He held the other man in highest regard, but he would not be intimidated by him.
“If you were special forces, you know that we never speak of our time in service,” said the big man. His big bass voice rumbled in the room; the hint of his Swedish accent heard. His tone was soft and gentle, his expression serious.
“Okay, can you at least tell me which countries you were in?” Noah said nothing. Finally, Ghost turned toward Ace. “Alright, we’ll do it your way. Ace?”
“Noah Dolf Anders, thirty-three years old, born in Hammarstrand, Sweden to Olivia and Josef. Graduated with an engineering degree from Uppsala University and promptly joined the Swedish Army.” Ace paused looking up at the big man who continued to stare straight ahead. Bryce nudged Zulu’s arm.
“He’s a talker that one,” he said winking playfully at Zulu.
“After joining the Army, he was selected to SOG. In the eight years he was part of the team, he was sent to the worst places on the planet helping allied forces in Afghanistan, Iraq, Pakistan, Somalia, Sudan, and Indonesia. He single-handedly rescued thirty-one children from a child trafficker in Thailand…while on vacation.” Eyebrows raised in the room.
Ghost gave an appreciative look toward the man who still only stared at the wall ahead of him. The Swedes were known for their stoic personalities, but this guy was next level shit.
“Last year he was sent to aid in the mission in Sri Lanka.” Ace paused once more and for the first time, Noah winced, swallowing hard. Soft groans were heard from the other men, Blade staring up at the big man, knew what occurred. The young girls being held in Sri Lanka were to be sent to market for bidders and an SOG and SAS team was sent in to rescue them. Except what they found were twenty-two dead girls. Abused, raped, beaten, and starved.
“You went rogue,” said Blade. Noah slowly lowered his gaze to the man in front of him. At six-foot-seven, no one ever looked him directly in the eye. The man now staring at him, was probably a good five inches shorter, but he was standing his ground.
“I did not go rogue,” he ground out. “I served justice.” Ghost looked back at Ace and nodded.
“Eighty-four members of the group known as ALMS were found hacked to pieces in a warehouse. Problem was, one lived and told his tale before he died. You were given the option to retire early or face charges.”
“I believe my interview is over,” said Noah sadly, as he turned to head toward the door. Zulu gripped his shoulder, gently turning him back in the direction of the team.
“Not over until we say, brother,” grinned Zulu. “If you’d done your research, you’d know we aren’t so different. What you did? I would have been right beside you all the way.” Noah looked into the face of the man in front of him. He was nearly black as the night, almost as tall as him, and the look in his eyes said he understood everything. Noah never thought he would feel brotherhood again and now he was getting that spark deep in his gut.
“Do you regret your actions?” asked Ghost. Noah turned to the older man, contemplating a lie at first, but knowing he could do nothing except tell the truth.
“Not one bit.” Nodding, Ghost grinned at the other team members.
“Good, welcome to the team.” For the first time, Noah let his features relax, his eyes scanning the room for signs that this was some kind of ruse.
“I…I’m accepted,” he said quietly.
