Designated Target

By Laura Baumbach

A soldier returns to his fallen commander's hometown to tell his brother the truth about what happened in the field looking for forgiveness and finds love instead.

• Language: English
• Publisher: MLR Press
• Release date: Jan 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370223183

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Table of Contents

DESIGNATED TARGET

copyright

story

About the Author

MLR PRESS AUTHORS

GLBT RESOURCES

DESIGNATED TARGET

LAURA BAUMBACH

mlrpress

www.mlrpress.com

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2012 by Laura Baumbach

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

Published by

MLR Press, LLC

3052 Gaines Waterport Rd.

Albion, NY 14411

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Cover Art by Deana Jamroz

Editing by Kris Jacen

ebook format: ISBN#978-1-60820-791-6

Issued 2012

This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher.

Don’t worry about the stuffing, Mike. I’ve got it covered. I don’t have any place else to be tonight. You just keep the food coming. I’ll dish it up.

Steam rose from the eight-foot serving stand, the warm, moist vapor a welcome change from the frigid fall air outside. Carson slipped the large metal basin of stuffing into the open rack and quickly covered it. The heavy rectangular lid clanked against the steel base adding one more cheery, riotous sound to the noisy room.

Thursday nights he donated time to the food bank. Tonight was one of the coldest of the year and a holiday to boot. The basement was packed, mostly with people just looking for a warm place to spend a few hours out of the cold. The free meal didn’t hurt either.

Hands covered in a pair of thin silicone gloves like all the other volunteers working the food line, Carson used the absorbent sleeve of his Henley to wipe away the newly formed sheen of steam-generated droplets from his toasty cheeks. He closed his eyes, buried his nose in the crook of his elbow and drew his arm down his face. Unexpectedly, the two-day-old bruise on his left cheek soared to life. He winced and pulled his arm away fast. A small, annoyed breath escaped him. Christ, I need a shower.

He wished he could wash away the memories as easily as the sweat he was working up. The painful area around his eye throbbed, making his eyes water.

Steve, you wanker, you certainly left your mark on me, man. Literally. Goddamn control freak. Two dates and you were trying to run my life more than Jim did when I was fifteen. Big brother Jim would beat the crap out of you if he was around, you’d better believe it, asshole. He’d use every Army Ranger skill he had to make you suffer in ways you couldn’t even imagine and he’d get away with it too…

If he hadn’t died two months ago in some mysterious, classified mission. Fucking ‘need to know’ rules wouldn’t even let me know where or how or why. Jim loved the Army but sometime the U.S. government sucks big time!

Wincing, Carson sighed and scratched his nose with his wrist, waiting for the tears to evaporate so he could face the people around him. He had friends here but he wasn’t going to explain the bruise or the watering eyes. Or talk about the pain in his chest whenever he thought about his brother’s untimely death.

The people here weren’t that close to him. No one was, not since grade school. He’d been out of high school for six years, losing contact with everyone from home when he moved across the state to join the research and development division of Advantage’s software house. Communications was his thing. But with computers not people.

Which is why you’re alone in a room full of complete strangers for the holiday instead of spending it with someone.

Regret mellowed to resignation that mixed with a touch of lingering anger with himself. Whiner. Suck it up, Crosby! Spending the holiday here alone is better than spending it in the emergency department again. Sure, you’ve got great health insurance, but let’s not put it to the test. And yeah, it would be better if Jim was here, but he’s not and he’s never going to be again. Get used to it.

Raising his head, Carson opened his eyes to look out over the crowd. The church basement was laid out with long tables placed end to end the length of the large, drafty room. Lines of folding chairs that had seen better days were arranged down both sides of the tables and more were stacked in the corners of the room. Holiday decorations dotted the tables and the walls, all of them looking like they came from the Sunday school and day care patrons’ busy little fingers and eclectic imaginations. They were colorful and bright if not always recognizable, but still pleasing to Carson’s watering eyes.

Pleasing. Just like the man standing less than six feet away, towering over the service table, talking to