PECKER FILETED WITH a butter knife.

Balls removed with flaming pinchers. Starving hyenas feasting upon his privates. And those were the least gruesome scenarios of what Guy McCann would rather be facing—or more accurately where he'd rather be at the moment, he thought with a smirk as he waited impatiently in Colonel Carl Garrett's outer office.

Fort Benning, Georgia—the last damned place on God's green earth he'd ever wanted to be again.

Though there was absolutely no true humor in the situation, he chuckled darkly anyway. A grenade of nausea sat in his gut, threatening to detonate and his entire body vibrated with the need to flee—to be anywhere but here. It was too much. Too hard. Regret, failure and grief twisted his insides until his fists involuntarily clenched and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, forcing away the image of his fallen friend.

Danny Levinson. Killed in action. His fault. Guy released a small breath and massaged the bridge of his nose. While other people gazed across the beautiful grounds of Fort Benning and saw a rolling landscape dotted with enormous old trees, Guy only saw...hell. His own personal variety, because being here was like being plugged directly into the worst part of himself.

The last time he'd sat outside Garrett's office it had been to barter for his freedom. He'd thought at the time that he'd be willing to pay any price, would grant Garrett any favor—the colonel's fee for pushing their clearance papers through.

He, Jamie Flanagan and Brian Payne—his friends and Project Chameleon comrades— had been involved in an off-base brawl that could have held them up indefinitely. And consi