Operation Wolf: Gunner ~ Sedona Venez Read online

  OPERATION WOLF: GUNNER

  (WOLF ELITE, BOOK 1)

  Sedona Venez

  OTHER BOOKS IN THIS SERIES

  Operation Wolf: Eli (Book Two)

  Operation Wolf: Hunter (Book Three)

  ABOUT OPERATION WOLF: GUNNER

  (WOLF ELITE, BOOK ONE)

  When Gunner returns home from war, he discovers he can’t go back to the way things were. He now carries a dark secret that threatens to consume him, and if he doesn’t learn to control his inner beast, it will destroy any chance of happiness.

  Desperate to escape his past, he leaves it all behind, looking to start a new life. But when he winds up in a nightclub, it doesn’t take long before someone crosses boundaries, and his truth is revealed. The sassy, curvy beauty responsible for capturing his attention is none other than Celine Cooper, and she’s about to add a whole other set of problems to Gunner’s already complicated life.

  Contents

  OPERATION WOLF: GUNNER

  Other Books in This Series

  About Operation Wolf: GUNNER

  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

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  NEW RELEASE ALERTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER 1

  Gunner

  “DID YOU HEAR THAT?”

  My heart thumped loudly as I fought to run, to get out of the clearing where my men and I were positioned like sitting ducks, but my body refused to obey. Instead, just like I’d relived a thousand times in the nightmare, I paused, signaling the rest of my squad to stop and look around.

  Run! I wanted to shout to my men, but my mouth opened independently as I turned toward Landon, the man who was speaking, instead, “That sound like some kind of animal to you?”

  A growl echoed across the clearing, louder than the last one we’d heard, and Eli’s face tightened. “Some kind of canine, I reckon,” he hissed uneasily. “I think we should clear out.”

  Yes! I shouted in my head as I tried to make my body move. But, once again, because of the dream, I refused to budge. Frustrated, I wished I could give myself a good kick in the ass.

  What was the point of reliving this shit over and over again if I couldn’t even be in control of my own body?

  I knew it was just a dream, but part of me yearned to try to change it. If I could just get us out of there, away from the monsters that were about to change us forever . . .

  “I don’t think that’s such a great idea,” Hunter interjected. “The beast will chase us if we try to run. Why not just shoot the damn thing if it makes a move for us?”

  “What if there’s more than one?” Jake, another of my men, argued.

  Eli shrugged. “There are five of us, all loaded up with ammunition.” He hefted his M16 rifle, a devil-may-care grin on his face. “No way we can’t stand up to two or three overgrown wolves.”

  I opened my mouth to say something, but before I could, a pack of wolves surged through the trees, jaws open, eyes gleaming red in the shade of the jungle. As I jumped back, my eyes counted at least ten of the beasts. They were bigger than any wolves I’d ever seen, with wickedly sharp large teeth and hulking muscular bodies that were twice the size I thought they should be. A cold sweat broke out across my forehead. I lifted my rifle as I swung around to face the closest beast, and then I tried to fire my gun.

  But just as it always did, the blasted weapon jammed, and then the beast was upon me, teeth flashing bright-white in the sunlight before sinking into my flesh and bone.

  * * *

  “Fuck!”

  My hoarse cry echoed throughout the train compartment as I sat up in my bunk. A hard crack, followed by a rush of pain in my skull, told me I’d hit the underside of the top bunk with my head, and I welcomed the ache. Partially because it meant I was awake and alive, and partially because I knew it was a thousand times better than the pain from that wolf bite.

  Swinging my legs over the side of the bunk, I rubbed my shoulder where the phantom pain still lingered, grateful no one was actually sleeping in the top bunk to hear my scream. But that relief was short-lived when someone knocked at my door, nearly causing me to jump out of my skin. A quick sniff had me relaxing. It was only a human male, likely one of the train employees.

  Getting to my feet, I rushed over to the door and opened it. Sure enough, it was one of the train conductors, a man in a blue uniform and cap, with a bushy silver mustache.

  “Sir?” he asked, concern and suspicion evident in his pale blue eyes. “I’m terribly sorry for the intrusion, but I thought I heard a noise. Is everything all right?”

  “Yeah. I’m fine.” I ran a hand through my hair. “It was just a bad dream.”

  “I see.” Understanding flickered in the man’s eyes as he took me in. “Well, good night, then. Apologies for the intrusion.”

  I watched the man go and sighed as I slid the compartment door shut. Now that I was awake, I might as well head to the dining car and get myself a cup of coffee—or maybe something stronger. I opened the door and made my way to the car, seating myself in one of the comfortable-looking high-backed leather booths. Soon, I was nursing a glass of scotch, savoring the way the burning liquid warmed my throat and stomach, while I stared out at the night racing past the window.

  It was too bad that alcohol couldn’t make me drunk anymore. If it could, I would have drunk myself into oblivion already. But, unfortunately, fate hadn’t left me even that much peace to look forward to. Now, no narcotic or depressant could make me forget who, what, or where I was.

  Now, there was only cold, stark reality to look forward to—or death. And as shitty as my life had become, I still preferred it to the fiery depths of hell I knew awaited me below.

  Finishing my scotch, I ordered a cup of coffee and stared out at the cornfields we were passing through. A normal human would be able to see the stalks faintly in the moonlight, but with my enhanced sight, I could see them clear as day, could count the number of corn ears on each stalk that whizzed by. We were passing through Georgia now, still a long way off from my final destination—New York City. There, I had a new job and a new life awaiting me. One I could hopefully lose myself in, leaving behind my heartache and misery.

  The door to the dining car opened, and I glanced up to see a woman with her daughter enter the compartment. The little girl, along with her mother, was dressed in a bathrobe and pajamas and rubbed tired eyes set into a small, round face that was blotchy from sleep. As I watched the mother go up to the counter and ask the bartender for a mug of milk for her daughter, the little girl’s scent wafted toward me. She smelled of warm sunshine and jasmine, and my throat tightened. Julia, my fiancée, had smelled of jasmine, too. The scent was in the shampoo she’d used to wash her long, silky jet-black hair. Hair I’d loved to run my fingers through.

  She’s not my fiancée anymore, and I’ll never run my fingers through her hair again.

  The pain of Julia’s rejection was still fresh, as if it had happened only yesterday, though it had been a month since I moved out. A month since I revealed to her the reason for my violent edge, my mood swings, and my need for solitude at times. All things that hadn’t been there before I left to chase Carlos Araya, a well-known drug lord, through the dry jungle of Bolivia and run into the horror that changed me into
the monster I am now.

  Looking down at my hands, I hissed at the sight of my nails, which had elongated into claws while I was thinking, a clear response to my high stress levels. Taking a deep breath, I focused my mind as I’d been taught and willed my hands to return to normal. The claws shrank, the gray fur on my hands sank back into my skin, and soon, my hands appeared normal again, like those of a regular human.

  But I wasn’t a regular human.

  I’m a monster.

  “You all are now wolf-shifters,” the tribe that had taken us in after the attack informed my men and me.

  Once a simple soldier, now my soul was joined with that of a beast, and the two struggled to live together in harmony. I was getting better at learning to deal with it, but my beast was still quite headstrong. If I didn’t allow it to come out every once in a while, it tended to find a way to break free of its own accord, something that was never good for me.

  The pain of betrayal seized my heart as I remembered the look of shock and terror on Julia’s face when I’d shown her what I’d become. The anger and fear in her eyes as she’d kicked me out of her home, shouting that she didn’t know who I was, that I wasn’t the man she’d fallen in love with. She’d tossed her engagement ring at me as she flung her insults, and the emotional impact had felt like a bullet ripping through my heart rather than a simple gold band with a princess-cut diamond bouncing off my chest. I’d given her that ring nearly two years before when I left for war, promising her we would be married when I came back to her.

  Instead, that promise now lay in the ashes of what I’d thought was a strong, loving, and unbreakable relationship.

  As I watched the child collect her mug of hot milk, my heart ached at the way her little legs dangled off the barstool, the way a few of her black curls escaped her ponytail, and the way her long lashes fluttered closed in contentment as she sipped the soothing drink.

  Julia and I could have had a daughter like that.

  A child to whom I could have read bedtime stories while she sipped her hot milk.

  The coffee mug exploded in my hand, and I hissed as shards of ceramic pierced my flesh, scattering everywhere. The little girl at the bar shrieked, nearly dropping her own mug, and the bartender came rushing around the counter, a rag in his hand.

  “Sir, are you all right?”

  Quickly, I stood up. “Yes,” I answered, brushing the remnants of the broken cup from my clothing and trying not to be frustrated. “My apologies.”

  My grip had tightened on the mug without my realizing it, and it had finally shattered from the force applied by my inhumanly strong fingers.

  Embarrassed, I quickly stepped aside so the man could clean up the mess. Then I paid him and made a quick exit before anyone could realize that the cuts on my face and hands were already knitting themselves back together.

  Finally making it back to my compartment and lying on my bunk, staring out the window, I wondered if it would ever be possible to feel normal again.

  But knowing my fucked-up luck . . . probably not.

  CHAPTER 2

  Gunner

  AFTER FINALLY ARRIVING AT Penn Station, I eyed the crowd with surprise. People were skittering around underground, pushing, shoving, and clawing, to get to their train.

  “Welcome to New York,” I muttered under my breath before turning from the sound of Jimmy’s voice.

  “Hey, bro! Long time no see.” Jimmy spread his arms open wide, enveloping me in a brotherly embrace.

  I returned it. It had been a while since I’d seen my old friend, and his warm, familiar presence brought me comfort I hadn’t expected.

  “It sure has.” Grinning a little, I pulled back so I could survey my friend.

  Jimmy had traded in his army fatigues for a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt, but his blond hair was still cut military-style, and his pale blue eyes were as sharp as ever. His fashionable clothing clashed a slight bit with the military man in them, but then again, I was a little more uncomfortable with the current fashions than most men.

  “You look like you’re still in fighting shape, though.”

  Jimmy grinned back, and then he reached down and grabbed one of my suitcases. “I like to keep in shape and box at a nearby gym a couple of times a week. Keeps me on my toes. Though the wife complains I watch too many boxing matches on TV now.”

  My smile faded a bit as I followed Jimmy as we weaved in and out of the Penn Station throng. I frowned when I saw a dude passed out on the floor and another passed out on a bench.

  “It’s normal, bro.” Jimmy shook his head at the men. “Let’s get out of here. I have car service waiting for us outside. Paying for parking is way too expensive in Manhattan.” We finally arrived outside to the waiting vehicle, and we hopped into the car while the driver stowed away my luggage as we slid inside.

  It didn’t take long before the driver was weaving in and out of New York traffic, but thoughts of Jimmy’s wife, whom I had never met, dampened my spirits slightly. I knew it wasn’t right for me to be envious of my friend, but it was going to be hard on me to watch the two of them together, with my own relationship loss still so fresh in my damn mind.

  “So, how long have you and Emily been married?” I asked as we drove out of Manhattan and toward the Brooklyn Bridge. Just because I was a tad jealous didn’t mean I was going to shy away from the topic like some kind of pussy.

  The last time I’d seen Jimmy was over six years ago when he was honorably discharged from the Army so he could spend more time with his dying mother. It had been a sad moment for both of us, as we’d been friends during the entirety of our careers after meeting in basic training. We’d kept in constant email contact, but since Jimmy was from New York and I from Florida, we hadn’t seen each other until now.

  “About three years now,” Jimmy answered with a smile. “I met her at Central Park where she and her coven were performing a ritual.”

  “Coven?” I fully turned in my seat to face him, shock along with a feeling of unease running through me. “As in, witches?”

  Jimmy laughed. “It’s not quite that sinister. Emily’s a Wiccan, and she and her coven were depicting one of their springtime rituals. I can’t really remember which one it was,” he stated with a shrug. “I’ve never really been into that sort of thing, you know, even after three years of being married to someone who is. But that day, she was wearing a white dress with flowers in her hair, and in my mind, a picture flashed of me standing with her in a wedding dress before an altar while I slid a ring onto her finger. She says we were together in a past life.” He chuckled, but a dreamy look was on his face. “Past lives or not, it’s like she was made for me.”

  “That’s great,” I remarked after a moment, more than a touch envious now. “Sounds like love at first sight.”

  Jimmy laughed again. “And I know you don’t believe in it, but I don’t really know how else to explain it.” A somber look passed over his face, and he carried on more quietly, “By the way, how are you doing? I know it must be tough—Julia leaving you for another man after all this time.”

  I winced and nodded. Jimmy wasn’t a shifter, so when I called him up and asked him if he knew about any job opportunities in New York, I hadn’t been able to tell him what had really happened.

  “I’m getting over it,” I replied slowly, wondering if the statement was true. “To be honest, I’d had a feeling it was coming. We didn’t get along as well after I came home. I guess the truth is that both of us had just changed too much.”

  Jimmy nodded sympathetically.

  It was hard on couples when one half had to go on tour and the other waited at home, particularly when they weren’t married and didn’t have any children to hold them together. The distance and time were bad enough, but war had a tendency to harden a person. And often, men and women who came back from war were not the same people they’d been when they left. I wished it were only my personality that had changed. That was something I could seek therapy or medical help
for. For what I had . . . well, as far as I knew, there was no cure.

  “Well, brother, I know you’ll get through this. You’re one of the strongest people I know,” Jimmy remarked, patting me on the shoulder. “And in the meantime, you’ve got a place to stay with me for as long as you’d like.”

  I nodded, looking out the passenger window as we crossed the Brooklyn Bridge into Brooklyn.

  For the first time since I’d left Florida, I felt the stirrings of anxiety and unease in my heart. From what I’d heard, the city’s cost of living was a serious problem and most residents were frustrated with the fact that renters faced the highest prices in the country.

  I didn’t have to come here. I could have called up one of my other squad buddies for help. At least they’d have understood.

  Yeah, right. Like that was even remotely a good idea. The idea of me crawling to any of them for help was laughable, even if they’d all been honorably discharged. I’d been their leader in battle, and a leader didn’t expect his men to coddle and care for him. I was the one who’d cared for them. Not to mention, I was sure they had their own problems to deal with, having all been changed as I had been. They didn’t need to deal with my issues.

  No, it was far easier for me to turn to Jimmy for help than any of them, even if he couldn’t understand my plight the way they would.

  It was a good fifteen minutes before we pulled up in front of Jimmy’s two-story brownstone in Park Slope. I was pleasantly surprised by the charming line of houses that reminded me of the bygone era. Some of the houses even had the novelty of oil lamps outside the entrance reflecting a glimpse of the time of no electricity.

  “Wow. This is different,” I said.

  “Yeah. We lucked out,” Jimmy announced as we walked up the steps, suitcases in hand. “Emily’s grandmother purchased this house back in the seventies before this neighborhood was gentrified. When she passed away, she willed the house to Emily. Believe me, we would never be able to afford a house in this neighborhood otherwise . . . especially not on my salary. I love living in Brooklyn, wouldn’t want to live anywhere else. Plus, there are a lot of beautiful single women, looking for available men like you.”