Nowhere To Run (Task Force 779 Book 3), page 1
Nowhere To Run
Task Force 779 Book 3
KL Donn
Copyright © 2020 by KL Donn
All rights reserved.
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 from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Design & Formatting by Sensual Graphic Designs
Editing by KA Matthews
Model: Marc-Andre
Photographer: Paul Henry Serres
Created with Vellum
Contents
Synopsis
Prologue
1. Lola
2. Lola
3. Theo
4. Lola
5. Nix
6. Lola
7. Lola
8. Theo
9. Lola
10. Theo
11. Lola
12. Lola
13. Theo
14. Lola
15. Lola
16. Lola
17. Theo
18. Lola
19. Theo
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by KL Donn
For the victims,
The survivors,
Everyone affected by tragedy.
Synopsis
Nightmares and monsters are supposed to remain in the dark. Thought of, frightened from, but never seen.
Lola Bishop has suffered more tragedy in her short time on this earth than most have in an entire lifetime. She lost her parents when she was young, consoled the members of her brother's elite team when they thought a member was dead, and finally, found her best friend's body.
How much more could one person possibly take?
Theo Burkhart excels at all he tries. Most sought after recon sniper in the Marines, he joined Task Force 779 with his best friend to become a part of something bigger. He wanted to make an impact on the world.
Not fall in love with his commander’s little sister.
When he gets the call that Lola needs him, Theo drops everything to be at her side. She’s strong, yet fragile in so many ways. The girl he’s loved for years is begging to find the good in the world, and he’s only too happy to help.
The only question is, will it be enough when one more obstacle is thrown their way or will Lola crack for good this time?
Just a heads up: While my stories carry their share of violence and adult situations, this one, in particular, touches on some socially prevalent issues that may be upsetting to readers.
Prologue
Lola
“To My Parents" by Anna Clendening
Five Years Ago.
High school.
I don’t know whether to love it or hate it.
Mostly, I tolerate it.
I’ve never really fit in since moving to Charleston, West Virginia, with my brother, Nix, a few years ago. After the death of our parents, he took me in. Sort of. He’s my legal guardian, but he’s also military and gone more often than not.
When he isn’t here, he has close friends who watch me until he returns. It’s okay, I guess. His friends are mostly nice, and they understand his conflicting obligations, but I bet they’d rather do without a teenager in their homes.
Now, here I am, the first day of high school. Nix is gone, and we've moved, so I’m in a different district than my friends are. I’m starting over.
Gripping my lunch tray, I turn around to look for somewhere to sit. Tables are filled with more cliques than I've even heard of.
Jocks and cheerleaders.
Potheads.
Nerds. I don’t actually think they are, but it’s how they’re labelled because they’re intelligent.
Rebels and emos kind of blend together.
Then there’s the empty table. The one everyone ignores. It's where the loners and new kids without a faction sit. Yeah, just like some dystopian movie.
Right now, one lone person is sitting there. A dark-haired boy I noticed in a few classes today. I get the feeling he’s the outcast in this school because he seemed to know people when I saw him this morning; he just didn’t seem to like them. Or maybe it was vice versa.
Oh well, I’m about to discover that answer as I walk towards him. As soon as I place my tray down, I feel a dozen eyes on me. I can’t pretend to ignore them because it’s obvious after the silence that’s ensued.
“Hey,” I say.
Table boy doesn’t look up.
“I’m Lola.”
Still nothing. Lucky for him, I’m an expert at making new friends. Keeping them is the hard part.
“You’re Sam, right?” His eyes raise, and they’re…sad. “We’re in English and Science together. I noticed you this morning and heard someone say your name.” I bite my tongue to stop the babbling.
His eyes drop back to his tray as he pushes what I think is stew around the dish.
New tactic, I guess.
“I’m new here; don’t really know anyone at this school. Our audience is obviously boring since all they want to do is watch me talk to you.” I say it loud enough, so they hear me. Some avert their eyes, some glare, some move on to whatever else they find fascinating.
“What do you want, Lol?”
“Lola,” I say to him, and he smirks, exactly like Nix does when I correct him about something only to discover he did it on purpose. “Fine. Lol. I can deal with being an acronym if you need.” His eyes twinkle the slightest bit, so I take a bite of my stew and immediately regret it.
“Here.” He tosses some salt packets to me. “You’ll want to stock up on those.”
“Thanks, Sammy.” I grin as his eyes narrow.
Tit for tat my new friend.
It takes him a week before he starts opening up to me. Really laughs at one of my stupid jokes or seeks me out between classes.
But Sammy and me?
We’re cake.
Or peanut butter and jelly.
Friends made in high school, will fall away or follow you for life.
We walk side by side now.
Until we’re torn apart by tragedy.
Lola
“Baby Don’t Cut" by Bmike
Distance. It’s what I need to leave all my desires behind me and move on with my life.
Time and distance.
I have to remember that. Embrace it. No matter how much it makes my heart cramp with agony. The man I love will never love me back, and I can’t keep waiting for it to happen.
At nearly twenty years old, I’ve seen far more than anyone my age should have. The loss of my parents was hard, but because of my older brother, Nix, I was able to get through it. We cried together, remembered together, and healed together.
When Ryder Morrison went missing, presumed dead, I was the strong one. Ryder wasn’t just my brother’s teammate, he was an older brother to me, same with my brother's entire team of elite operatives. I felt his loss deeper than that of my parents, I think, because he was there for my first crush. My first kiss, and my first heartbreak.
When Ryder was found, brought home—that first time I saw him—I hyperventilated so hard, I passed out. I couldn’t believe he was real. He was alive, and the years of mourning his death rushed forward and exploded in my chest in a way I didn’t understand how to cope with.
The next day, I met my best friend.
Samuel Dane.
He’s the peanut butter to my jelly.
The Tasmanian to my devil.
The Pinky to my Brain.
Sam and I hit it off. We were barely fifteen, just starting high school, and completely lost in this new world of hormones and bitterness. I knew almost immediately that he was gay. At first, I thought he was trying to hide it. The way he would shyly watch some of the cuter boys in school. His tastes, in general, suggested he was different but in the absolute best ways.
It took a few weeks for me to realize that Sam didn’t know he was gay. He didn’t know what he was. When I asked him about it, he remained silent for days. Wouldn’t return my calls, come to school, answer the door. Nothing.
I never gave up, though. He was the boy I’d come to enjoy laughing with at the oddest things. I looked forward to sharing lunch and doing homework together. We went a week without talking or seeing each other, and when he finally showed up at my house in the middle of the night, soaking wet and in tears, we cried all night.
Turns out, he spent the week soul-searching about the persona he felt he was projecting to the world and who he truly was. I’m the only person who knows the truth. He still tries to hide it.
Even now, as we begin our second semester at the junior college, he masks who he is. I’m not sure if he’s ashamed or scared of the public’s reaction.
He spent most of high school as every bully’s target, and I thought college would be different. So far, it hasn’t. He’s teased by the jocks and picked on by the girls on the cheer team. And more often than not, I’m not there to protect him.
He was supposed to pick me up this morning for breakfast, but when he was thirty minutes late, I decided to walk the fifteen minutes to his place that he shares with his older brother, Charlie. They aren’t as close as Nix and me, but I know Charlie tries his best to be there for his younger brother.
Knocking on the door, I wait for Sam to open it with his goofy grin and apologize a thousand times for being late. Again. I’ve gotten used to i
When he doesn’t answer, I turn the knob, but it's locked. Stepping off the carpet, I peel it back to reveal the spare key they keep there. Slipping it in the lock, I turn the piece of metal, and the door opens easily.
The house is too quiet for Sam to even be home, but I enter anyway because maybe he forgot to set his alarm. Charlie works the nightshift in a factory while he pays his own way through school, so I know he's not here.
“Sam!” I call out as I close the door behind me. “It’s Lol! Are you here?” Something seems off, but I’m not sure what, so I head upstairs to his room.
Opening his door, I see the bed still made and his bag of books on the floor in front of the closet. Worry begins to worm its way through my veins as that weird feeling hits full force.
“Sammy, answer me, please.” I can already feel tears ready to flow. Coming out of his room again, I see a light on under the bathroom door and warily make my way towards it.
I pass photos of me, Sam, and Charlie on the way, smiling at the one from last summer at the beach. We camped near Virginia Beach for a week and spent every day in the water.
Knocking on the door, I turn the knob and begin to call, “Sam, it’s Lola,” and break off on a scream when I see blood everywhere. The tub, the floor, the walls.
“Sam!” I drop to my knees beside his relaxed frame in the tub and try to shake him awake. “Sam, wake up. Sam!” The dam breaks, and tears begin falling, and my jostling only makes him slip farther under the water.
Gripping his arms before his head submerges, I drag him out onto the floor, now covered in water and crimson and feel for a pulse, but before I even touch his neck, I know. He’s gone.
My Sammy.
My light.
My jelly.
“Sammy!” I scream again. My heart cramps as I fumble for my phone in my pocket, needing to call for help.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” The operator's monotone voice breaks the silence.
“It’s Sam, he’s gone,” I croak.
“Ma’am? You have a missing child? Can you tell me what he was wearing?”
“No. He’s dead. Sam’s dead, and there’s blood everywhere.” The horror in my tone is its own entity as she takes a minute to process my words.
“What’s your address, ma’am?” I give it to her without thinking. “EMS and police are on the way.”
“Why would he do this? He left me. He just…left. What am I supposed to do now?” Sorrow penetrates every piece of my soul as I hold Sam's head in my lap, brushing dark locks away from his face.
“Ma’am, are you alright? Are you hurt?”
“My heart is broken.” Shattered into a million tiny shards of glass.
“What’s your name, honey?” The dispatcher sounds kind.
“Lola Bishop. He called me Lol, thought it was funny.” I’ll never hear his infectious laugh again.
“Can I call someone for you, Lola?”
“Nix. He’s my big brother. He’ll try to fix this. But he can’t. Sammy’s gone. He was my best friend.”
“Police are arriving now. Don’t be alarmed. Is there anyone else in the house?”
“No. Just us. Charlie’s at work. Oh God. Charlie.” Fresh teardrops begin to fall, and I release the phone as I hear thundering footsteps come upstairs.
Shadows announce their presence as two men look in the bathroom and are met with a broken woman holding her best friend's exsanguinated body.
“Miss Bishop?” one of them asks, and I can only nod my head. My throat is so tight I can hardly breathe. “How about we get you out of here?” His suggestion makes my entire body revolt.
“No!” I scream at him, and he raises his hand. “I can’t just leave him! He’s all alone now. He needs me!”
“Lola.” His quiet tone makes me look up. “We have a team here to take care of Sam for you. They’ll treat him right.”
“I can’t leave him,” I choke out even as the officer gently takes my hand as an EMT enters the room to hold Sam’s head, so he doesn’t hit the floor. “I don’t…”
I can’t form any more words. The pain is agonizing as I leave my best friend soaked in the water he died in and the blood that pumped out of his veins because life was too much for him.
“Sam,” I whisper as I’m led down the hall to the stairs.
“We aren’t able to reach Nix. Is there someone else we can call for you?” the kind officer asks.
Shaking my head, I try to remember what’s happening outside of this house. “He’s in Brazil again, on a mission.” Oops.
“A mission?”
“My brother is secret service.”
He nods. “Is there someone else I can call for you?” I want to say Ryder, but what comes out is, “Theo Burkhart.” Only Nix and Weston are in Brazil right now. Theo, Ryder, and Foster got a few furlough days.
“We’ll get in touch with him.” As I stand outside, the sun shines down on me, glowing with its radiance while the once beautiful day turns dark and grim. “The paramedics are going to take a look at you now, make sure you aren’t hurt.”
I don’t tell him I’m not, I only nod, because protesting would be exhausting. Sitting on the back step of the ambulance as they check me over, take my blood pressure plus a hundred other things that probe and prod my body, I grow too tired to stay sitting up. Resting my head against the doors, I feel someone drape a blanket across me, and white noise fills my head as I keep picturing Sam lying dead in a tub full of his blood.
“Lola!” I hear my name, but I can’t be bothered to open my eyes. I don’t want to. “Lola Bishop!”
“Whoa, sir, who are you?” The same officer as before asks the person. I recognize his voice.
“Lola, baby, look at me.” It’s not until the man says baby that it registers who is screaming my name.
Sluggishly, my eyes open, and Theo’s overwhelming appearance fills my visions. “Theo,” I whisper brokenly, and he rushes forward.
“Baby, what the hell happened? Why are you covered in blood? Are you hurt?” I shake my head as he scoops me up into his arms, and I try to embrace his heat because the world is dimming as my eyes cloud over with exhaustion.
Theo
For fifteen years, I’ve given my life to this country. I’ve suffered loss, injury, indecision, and still, I continue to wake up every day and devote my energy to making the world a better place.
Today, I question all my beliefs.
“Mamá, really?” The woman has been driving me insane for a week. I come from a very Greek-American family, and my mother, the fucking holy grail of the Burkhart's, has been pestering me about babies and marriage for years.
“Theo, o gios mou, when will I get the babies? Hmm.” Her voice in my ear as I walk into the grocery store is every bit as demanding as if I were home in Queens right beside her.
“Why are you pushing for this so much now? Are you badgering Reed about babies yet?” I've been getting texts and calls from my mother at least once a day lately. As much as I’d like to tell her I’m waiting for a special girl, she won’t accept that. The stubborn woman will demand to know who and then put pressure on me. And that’s not what I want for Lola.
I need to be careful with her. I don’t remember when my feelings for the young woman changed, but I know Nix won’t be happy about it.
“Reed is still young. Besides, your friends are having babies, Theo. I want grandchildren before I am too old to play with them.” Her tone is a little sadder than usual.
“Mamá, what’s going on?”
