Their Line of Drift

By Maia Dylan

Can he earn a second chance, or will their love be left to drift away?

The line of drift is the pathway of least resistance between two points. When Devon Roberts left Redwood Falls eight years ago, he knew his line of drift would lead him back. He may have spent those years helping to rid the world of evil, but the only destination he longed for was Finn McGregor.

Finn knew all about evil. He lived with it every day. Devon returns hell bent on getting him back and discovers that Finn’s been fighting his own personal war at home. Can Devon keep Finn safe, and convince him that their love is worth a second chance?

Be Warned: m/m sex

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evernight Publishing
• Release date: Mar 24, 2016
• ISBN: 9781772337815

Book preview

Published by Evernight Publishing ® at Smashwords

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2016 Maia Dylan

ISBN: 978-1-77233-781-5

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: Carlene Flores

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

A year ago I lost my dad to cancer and a stroke. He was the greatest man I ever knew and made sure we lived a life filled with love and laughter. He was a returned service man, and someone who risked his life to save many and protected those who couldn’t protect themselves. This is for my dad.

And for my hubby, who is so very much like my dad. Love you, baby.

THEIR LINE OF DRIFT

Sniper Team Bravo, 1

Maia Dylan

Copyright © 2016

Prologue

Come on you slack-jawed, sitting on your hands, total waste of space assholes! Second Lieutenant Devon Roberts muttered as he stared at the screen of his radio, willing it to respond. He and his team had been holed up in this bombed out derelict building for over thirty-two hours and he was about to flip the fuck out if they didn’t get the go ahead. He had advised them of their target’s visual confirmation more than ten minutes ago.

Devon and the four men who reported to him made up Sniper Team Bravo—a team of specialists whose job it was to deliver highly accurate rifle fire against specific enemy targets that cannot be engaged successfully by the regular infantry because of range, sensitive nature of the target, size, location, or visibility. At least, that was what the team’s description was on paper. In reality, when the powers that be had a target they needed eliminated, and it had to be done quickly and with the least amount of collateral damage as possible, they sent in a team like Bravo.

Today’s mission was to be their last, and Dev would be damned if they left this godforsaken desert without taking this bastard out. As soon as the job was done they were gone, back to base, and then states side in less than a week. Dev had heard from the lawyer looking after his grandmother’s estate and the house was his. Bravo team had a plan, and they couldn’t wait to get started.

LT, these fuckers don’t look like they’re going to hang around for much longer. I can see trucks moving in from the south. Do we have a go, or not? Marcel asked from the window where he knelt behind his Remington PSR.

I can see trucks inbound from the south, Maddox warned from his prone position on the floor, his scope set up through the broken window of the room.

Trucks inbound from the east, Sam called from the other room.

LT, Glenn Reaper Webster said from his kneeling position in front of Maddox. If we don't get a mission go on this then all this fucking intel is wasted, and al-Hassad is in the wind. His voice remained calm and steady as the man himself, despite the fact he stared down his scope at a man whose life he could end with less than three pounds of pressure on the trigger.

Devon understood his anger, he felt the same way, but if this was going to be a righteous kill shot, then they needed confirmation from base that they were—

Just then the radio clicked. "Sniper Team Bravo, you have a go for target."

Hell yeah!

Reaper, you have a go. Egress, east stairwell down to the main level, out the back and then three clicks north to the extraction point, Dev said calmly as he packed his equipment into his pack. His team then moved into what he called action mode, and the tension seemed to fade from the room. They were never more calm than when they had a mission to complete and a target to take out. Reaper and Maddox then went through their targeting sequence dialogue that oddly, Dev found comforting.

Reaper exhaled once and then seemed to slow his breathing to an impossible rate. Sniper ready.

Maddox put his eye to the scope he held in front of him and seemed to match his breathing to Glenn’s. Target, confirmed, 11 o’clock.

On target. Range it.

Range is 952 yards.

952 yards.

Wind, three-quarter value, push left by 2.

Reaper made the appropriate adjustments to his rifle without taking his eye from the scope mounted to the top of it. On target.

Fire when ready.

The report of Reaper’s Remington RPS sounded through the room. Hit.

Maddox held his position for a moment as he stared down his scope. Target down, confirmed kill. Devon was about to move toward the door that led to their egress point when he saw Maddox tense. Shit! RPGs! They’ve got fucking RPGs. Incoming! Maddox leaped up in a single swift movement, grabbed Reaper by the back of his BDUs, and threw them both against the south wall just as the whistle of an inbound RPG could be heard.

Devon threw himself against the floor, up against the far wall, sending up a quick prayer that all five of them made it out of this alive. Then the world exploded around him.

Chapter One

You know, when I pictured heaven as a kid, LT, it definitely looked a little like this. A lot cleaner and, well, you know, with some nice landscaping and shit, but it sure does bear some resemblance, Marcel said from the passenger seat of Devon's truck as they pulled over at the side of the driveway. Devon had deliberately pulled over a little further from the house than was necessary so he could get a real good look at the place.

Reaper leaned forward from his position between Maddox and Sam in the back seat of the Ford Expedition they were traveling in to get a better look at the house. When you said your grandmother left you a house, I pictured a little old house with a small flower garden at the front of it, somewhere in the burbs. This place is so far removed from that it’s not fucking funny!

Dev was still shocked as hell that his grandmother’s homestead in Redwood Falls was now legally his. There had been a five-year waiting period after her death while a distant relative she had wanted to give the property to had been unsuccessfully searched for. But hey, all was well that ended with him being given a two story, eight-bedroom homestead on fifteen hundred acres of reasonably fertile farmland in the heart of agricultural Wyoming. It even came with three large outbuildings which were perfect for what he and Bravo team wanted to do.

Dev shrugged as he stared up at the house. It’s just a house on some land, with a fancy name, but with some time, the buildings and grounds will be one of the country’s leading tactical training facilities. Not much has changed since I left eight years ago. He was almost crippled by the guilt that struck at that statement but refused to think too much on the sequence of events that had driven him from Wyoming and into the welcoming arms of the US Marine Corps. It needs some work, but it will eventually be what we want it to be. We have the plans, we just have to get things in motion and start getting organized.

The mission to eliminate al-Hassan had been their last as enlisted Marines. All of them had decided they’d done their time, ridding the world of some seriously large assholes, and it was time for them to think about their own futures. It was irony at her spiteful best that had their last mission as the one that nearly killed them. When the dust had settled after that RPG round slammed into the floor above them, they had each had to crawl out from a pile of debris. They’d each been left banged up and bleeding from that, but it was the firefight which followed that really caused the damage. None of them had come away injury free, and it had been a damn miracle they’d been able to make it to the extraction point alive. For Reaper, it had been touch and go, and without Sam’s medical training and the fact the man was basically a fully trained surgeon, it would have been a very different story.

Shaking