Desertion

A Knights Rebels MC Novel

River Savage

Contents

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Epilogue

Also by River Savage

Coming Soon By River Savage

HELP SOMEONE. HELP YOURSELF.

Acknowledgments

About the Author

DESERTION

©2015

First eBook edition: July 2015

Desertion is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading and sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

Edited by Becky Johnson, Hot Tree Editing

Cover design ©: Louisa Maggio at LM Creations

Image: Mofatt Photography

Model: Troy Scott

Information address: riversavageauthor@gmail.com

There are the men and women whom we should honor everyday for what they do for our countries.

Thank you.

One Jesse

“What’s the first thing you’re going to do, Staff Sergeant?” Corporal Jefferies asks from the back of the Humvee as our convoy makes its way back to base. We just did our last patrol through the city of Kandahar. We've been in Afghanistan for the last six months, six long fucking months and this time next week, we will be heading home. I fucking hate this place, the polluted air, the death, the injustice; it all clouds my judgment.

“Gonna find my ass in the first diner I can find, ordering one of everything off the menu.”

“Of course you are.” Corporal Conner smirks beside me, knowing how much I love a good fucking meal. “I, on the other hand, am gonna bury myself in a tight pussy for days.” He groans and I can’t help but grin at the fucker. “Jesus, I can’t wait. What about you, Jefferies, you ready to see your girl?” Conner continues after radioing our coordinates.

“Got a Dear John from her last week,” Jefferies says, wiping the smile off my face. Fuck.

“Fuck, man, that’s rough,” Conner curses and it’s better than what I would say. Fucking bitch.

“Yeah, think she’s been fucking around. Says she needs some time to think.” I shake my head at the fucked-up situation my friend found himself in.

“Well, fuck her. Fuck her and her timing,” Conner says, his eyes still facing the front, still checking our surroundings.

“Yeah, I really thought she was the one for me,” Jefferies says, and I have to hand it to him, the fucker’s been holding out on us, didn’t see it coming at all. Though if I had a woman back home and the bitch sent me a Dear John, I wouldn’t fucking share. Don’t give a fuck how close I am with these fuckers.

“Got some movement at nine o’clock. Stay alert.” The vehicle’s military radio crackles with the convoy leader’s report. I sit a little straighter as the warning comes through.

“Fuck, what’s that? What’s that?” Jefferies’ curses, eyes finding something ahead. I follow his direction and see movement over the ridge.

“Nine o’clock, get on the fifty,” I shout to Jefferies as the first gunshot hits our truck.

“I’ve got—” Conner’s voice repeats our coordinates down the radio but it drowns out as a piercing sound explodes in my ears. A series of flashes break out, distorting my vision before a force hits us, lifting and spreading the horrendous blow of the explosion through the Humvee.

“We’re taking heavy fire!” Jefferies shouts, but my ears feel like they’re stuffed with cotton wool.

“Fuck, keep moving, keep moving,” Jefferies’ voice echoes through the ringing, but Conner’s frozen. Guns drilling, shots thumping, and heart racing, time spins past me as my world breaks down into slow motion. A second explosion to our right shakes us; the ringing in my ears turns into a high-pitched squeal.

“Oh, fuck!” Conner’s panicked voice hits me and I find myself comforting him.

“We’re good, Conner. Get it together. Stay sharp,” I say, watching team two push forward after taking most of the hit. The thick smoke in the air makes everything murky, my senses are on edge, like this is just the beginning.

“RPG, move, move, move,” Jefferies’ shouts and then moves as fast as he can.

“Conner, fucking move or die—” I don’t finish my sentence before the road before us comes up out of the ground, a volcano of orange sand erupts before our eyes, flipping the Humvee up. Yelling fills the air. The realization we’ve been hit takes a minute to register as my body lays distorted in the wreckage of the Humvee. Everything becomes numb. Muffled sounds of gunshots echo around the gnarled vehicle and orders break through.

“Conner,” I shout again, but I don’t even know if he survived.

“Ahhh!” A scream pulls me from the darkness.

“Conner?” I begin to move, but my foot is wedged between two pieces of metal. Everything shifts as the world comes back to focus. Screaming breaks through the numbness, and the pain radiating through my body anchors me to my spot.

“My fucking leg! I can’t feel my leg, Sarge. It’s fucking gone!”

I twist to get my eyes on him, but pull back when I see his leg hanging at an unnatural angle.

“You’re gonna be okay, Conner,” I shout over the sounds of attack, over the sounds of his screams, praying and hoping my words can calm him.

“I’m gonna fucking die. I’m gonna fucking die.”

We’re stuck in the kill zone. I don’t fucking know if we’re going to be okay, if we’re going to survive, but I can’t tell him that.

“Motherfucker.” My body jolts awake at the sound of Conner’s words. Fuck, not this fucking dream again.

“Jesse?” A warm hand touches my shoulder, and instantly, I’m on alert. Twisting my body, I reach out and grab the owner of the voice by the neck as the steady beat of their pulse thumps beneath my fingertips. It takes me a few deep breathes to realize I’m not back in Afghanistan, but at home, in my bed. The young woman’s throat I have my fingers wrapped around is not the enemy, but the bitch I took to bed.