Bad Attitude
Prologue
Iraq, 2003
There wasn't anything on earth much hotter than the desert in August. Steele lay in the hole he'd dug in the sand under his tent to keep him sheltered in case of a mortar attack, trying to remember the cool, honeysuckle-scented breezes that used to ease the hot summers of his childhood.
If he lay here long enough, he could almost block out the sounds of army operations in the background. The sound of trucks moving, soldiers calling out to each other. The smell of blood, sweat, and fear. The feel of the hard, hot rifle biting into his side as he kept it tucked in beside him.
God, he just wanted to go home again.
His thoughts turned to Brian, who up until two days ago had shared this tent with him, and winced.
Maybe he didn't want to go home after all.
He could still feel the sting of Teresa's words after he'd called her to see how she was doing.
How do you think I'm doing, asshole? I just had to go tell my six-year-old son that his father is dead. I hate you, you worthless bastard! You swore to me that you'd keep him alive. You're the one who should be dead, not him. No one would even care if it were ... read full excerpt from: Bad Attitude ebook
