Love Thy Enemy

By Will Decker

While doing covert operations in the South American jungles with the Army Rangers, Joe meets Maria, each staring down the barrel of their weapons and into each other's eyes. Something happens in that moment of time that changes both of their lives forever. With overwhelming force, Joe and his team take Maria and her small band of warriors captive. While escorting his prisoners, Joe and Maria discover something real between them. But before they can explore it further, they are ripped apart, leaving Joe flailing. With only one mission left for him to achieve, he leaves the Army and opens a private investigative company while searching nonstop for the love that was abruptly stolen from him. This is his story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Will Decker
• Release date: Oct 27, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005911348

Will Decker

Hello,There have been some dramatic changes going on in my life and because of them I am finding that I now have more available time. Yeah, that's a laugh. Now it seems like my days are even more hectic than they were before. Hence, I have decided instead of using the narrow sighted approach to marketing my books, I am going to use a much simpler approach. No longer will my books be available through Amazon markets, but instead, my plan is to make them all available through the Smashwords site as well as their affiliated markets for FREE. However, this will take time so if you have read any of my books and are looking to read more of them, bear with me, I promise you they are coming. I hope this works for my dedicated (few) readers. On a different topic, as you can see, most of my writing efforts have been serials.With that said, you will never find a Cliff Hanger amongst my works. All of the stories have beginnings and endings and can stand on their own. Their common thread might be the characters and in some cases, the planet, but all are Stand-Alone novels! I really despise Cliff Hangers with a passion. Can you tell?Thanks for taking the time to get to know me a little better, WillHope you have a great day.Sincerely, Will Decker

Book preview

LOVE THY ENEMY

@2020

Will Decker

Copyright 2020 by WILL DECKER

Smashwords Edition

WILL DECKER has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased, or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law, or in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Love Thy Enemy is a work of fiction. The resemblance of any characters to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Names, characters, places, brands, media, situations, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

This eBook may not be re-sold or given away except with written permission from the author or as otherwise permitted through special promotions and programs.

A special thank you to everyone that has made this story possible. My beta reader, my proof reader, and especially to you, my fan readers for taking a chance and dedicating your time to reading this story. I sincerely hope you enjoy this work of fiction.

Will Decker

Here’s Even More Exciting Stories by Will Decker for Your Reading Pleasure:

All my stories are Stand-Alone novels. No Cliffhangers!

LOVE THY ENEMY

DRIVEN

UNREQUITED LOVE

FIRE BABY

HYBRID KILLERS

The ‘HEÄLF’ Collection:

MORTALITY REVISITED

CLONE WARS

DAY OF NIGHT

REGENERATIONS

HORSPAW

The ‘Mac" Collection:

THE WITNESS

TOXIC RAIN

BETRAYAL

RECORD KEEPER

DEATH IN THE DUNES

WIT-SEC FAIL

SIMPLY PERFECT BINDING 2ND Ed.

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Epilogue

A Note From the Author

*1*

With many men that I’ve met over the years, I’ve heard much bragging between them with regard to the number of loves or female conquests they’ve had in their lives, whereas I have only ever been involved with two. Two very different women with two very different, yet almost deadly, impacts on my life. Not to mention, two very different reasons for even coming into my life.

The first, well, she tried killing me with an AK-47. Of course, that was before she got to know me. And she believed she was just doing her job, after all. Thankfully, she didn’t succeed. Though only a short while later, after our fierce fire-fight of an introduction in the jungles of Nicaragua, she did manage to shoot one of my team members and stab another in the back. Fortunately, both of them would survive, thanks in large part to her expertise with weapons. Because I have no doubt that if she had seriously been trying to kill them at the time, she would have succeeded. Maria, the name that I will later come to know her as, is no wilting flower. Nor is she inexperienced in the ways or weapons of war.

But before I digress too far from my original intent, I want to tell you about Jake and Barry, the two members of my recon team that she injured shortly after we’d shared a few intimate moments together. A very heated and decidedly special few moments together.

Now even though I can’t blame him in the least, Barry would still like to kill her today if he ever ran across her for putting that 7 inches of honed and hardened piece of steel in his back. But Jake, not so much. If anything, he would probably give her a kiss, a warm hug, and a big thank you. The 5.56mm slug that struck his hand shattered several bones and took away his ability to ever properly fire a weapon again, which immediately made him of no use to the U.S. Army, especially in a Ranger unit such as ours, and being anything less was just not acceptable. He was happily home with a small disability pension even before the ink dried on his very honorable discharge papers.

But this story isn’t about Jake and Barry or their unfortunate run in with the most beautiful woman that I’ve ever laid eyes on to this day. No, this story is about a woman I nicknamed Maria. Her true name was beyond the ability of my feeble language skills and my tongue’s limited ability to pronounce, and which I quickly gave up trying to do before making a complete ass of myself. And despite looking through the front sights of my M-16 and straight into her dark ebony eyes that were looking right back at me over the sights of a fully automatic AK-47 that appeared as though it belonged in her more than capable hands, my opinion would never change. She is and always will be the most beautiful woman these blue eyes of mine have ever had the pleasure of seeing, despite the circumstances that we initially found ourselves in.

Since I was leading our six man team at the time, I can only assume that she felt something too when she looked back into my crystal blue orbs. Of one thing I was certain, she didn’t see any fear in my eyes as they unflinchingly gazed back at her.

Lust? Maybe. Interest? Definitely. But not fear. I was still much too young and ignorant to even realize how vulnerable I was. Hell, I wasn’t even 30 years of age yet. Plus, it had been quite a while since I’d been intimate with a real woman. Monkey paw didn’t count. Even if she was female. I never did stoop to taking advantage of the poor old woman that hung around our little shanty town of a base and went with anyone that offered her a little spare change from their pocket. I did however, on occasion, hire her to do my laundry, especially when she looked as if she hadn’t eaten for a few days. And even then, I would find myself rewashing what she returned to me, which was usually short an item or two. I never questioned her or put her on the spot over it though. She had enough to deal with without my whining. And while I refer to Monkey Paw as a poor old woman, I should make it very clear that she wasn’t much more than 10 years my senior. 10 very hard years in addition to what must have been a very hard 30 years prior.

But once again, I digress. The beautiful foe with the wavy black hair tied up in a tight bun on the top of her head and clear smooth slightly olive skin coupled with a petite, yet curvaceous little body, spared me that day. Or so I have convinced myself with the passage of time. I know she could have killed me; I was the easy target. I was the closest to her and I was the only one that saw her before she opened fire on us. It should have been a no-brainer on her part to take me out first. It is what I would have done if our roles had been reversed that day, because it was also a no-brainer that I should have taken her out when she hesitated to kill me. We were enemies after all, and that’s what enemies do to each other. They shoot to kill. No questions asked. It’s war.

Yet, when our eyes met, there was a fleeting second there where time stood still. Something hot and urgent vibrated and shimmered in the cloyingly hot, sticky, and bug infested air between us, and I knew she was feeling it too. It was undeniable.

In the moment before she pulled the trigger, her aim jerked to the left, away from my heart, while mine went slightly right, my shot taking out the enemy behind and slightly to her left. His weapon was lining up with my heart and I don’t believe he intended on missing his target. The firefight was brief but deadly, no losses on our side and three uninjured prisoners from her side; her included. The only casualty that day was the one that I hit. My team was fortunate, not even a scratch before the enemy threw down their weapons in surrender, their supply of ammo woefully lacking and quickly depleted.

Still, it didn’t have to end that way. She could have killed most if not all of us before we had a chance to return fire if she had so desired. They had the advantage of surprise and cover. Yet, she didn’t. And to this day, I firmly believe it was because of something unspoken that passed between us in that moment when our eyes simultaneously found each other’s. And while it might appear to others later on that she had an ulterior motive for being taken prisoner that day, I will continue to believe it was something that passed unspoken in our eyes to my dying day. If that’s called doubling down, then I am doubling down for all I’m worth.

With the unexpected group of prisoners to look after, Command cut our reconnaissance mission short and we were ordered to begin the long arduous trek back to our makeshift basecamp posthaste. The powers that be were keen on interrogating our prisoners and quickly deemed their information to be much more valuable than anything we might learn by proceeding forward with our original recon mission.

With the coming onset of night, we take shelter in a small clearing surrounded by dense foliage and underbrush. Though we are all hot, sweaty and tired, the first order of business is posting a tight perimeter around our makeshift camp. I assign three of the team to take up posts approximately thirty yards out in a position that forms a triangular grid with our prisoners centered in the triangle. This will give us the most effective fire cover if we’re attacked.

As the firstly selected men, Jake, Berry and Ted decide silently among themselves who is going where, while John, Allen and I set to securing the prisoners with short lengths of cord, pinning their arms behind their backs and down to their feet so it’s impossible for them to lie out flat. It will be uncomfortable for them, but much safer for us and no chance of them slithering off in the night like crawling maggots.

With the prisoners secure, we lay out tarps over the soggy ground and then position the prisoners so they’re in our direct line of sight. Satisfied that they aren’t going anywhere and can’t cry out or make any noise, we break out containers of cold MRE’s that we share with our hungry prisoners. None of them turn down the food, even though we have to hand feed them like little children because of their bindings.

Despite all the media coverage about the miss-treatment of prisoners, each man on my team views them as human beings just like us and treat them with the same respect we hope to receive if the roles are ever reversed. Many soldiers will argue and call that flawed logic, but we’re warriors, not mercenaries. We fight for a higher cause, not money.

Though none of them are displaying any visible rank, the female prisoner appears to be their leader, so I take it upon myself to see to her feeding personally, while John and Allen each take another of the prisoners. My reason for picking the female is that I also want the opportunity to get closer to her, though I have no idea where the urge to do so is coming from. To retain my sense of rank, I tell myself unconvincingly that it is for the opportunity to gather intel. But deep down inside, I know it’s something much baser. She is a beautiful woman and I am just a mortal man dangerously close to falling under her spell.

As I approach her, she eyes me with what I can only assume is a mixture of hate and distrust, along with something I can’t quite place. I drop down onto my knees next to her and rip open the foil pouch, all the while watching her eyes as they move over my hands. I get a distinct feeling that it’s been a while since any of these people have had any real food. There is no shortage of fruit and bugs to be had, but real food, even the crap that I am currently pulling out of a waxed cardboard container, must look pretty damned appetizing judging by her subconscious licking of lips and the swallowing action of her throat.

Was that vein on the side of her throat beating like that earlier? Damn that’s sexy! Almost mesmerizing.

I have definitely been in this stinking jungle for far too long if I’m eyeing a prisoner of war with anything less than honorable thoughts. And yet, I can’t help myself as I continue studying that small ticking blood vessel just below her left ear. Nor can I ignore a crazy desire to run my tongue along the length of it as it speeds up in anticipation of the food that she knows is coming. Or is it caused by my drawing closer to her so it’s easier to place the food on her tongue with the provided spork?

In addition to noticing her sharp eyes and long dark lashes, I grow keenly aware of her womanly scent that has been made all the stronger from a mixture of sweat and old wood smoke. It’s like an aphrodisiac to my libido and I grow harder with each handful of food I place on her moist tongue while watching her slowly and methodically chew, anticipating the rise and fall of her throat when she swallows. Damn, that’s sexy. Her teeth are surprisingly straight and white, her silky olive skin begging me to touch it. Her lips move sensually as she continues chewing each mouthful of food, her eyes all the while growing less distrusting and much less hateful as they remain locked on mine, clearly trying to find deceit or a reason to distrust and hate me.

I will give her none.

When the container of rations is gone, I hold my canteen to her mouth and let her drink her fill before hesitantly moving across to the far side of the clearing and preparing myself for a long, restless night. With three of my team on watch for the first half of the night, Barry, a large brown man with an easy going personality and never a foul word out of his mouth no matter the circumstances, Jake, a tall slender man with a nervous tick below his left eye that took me a while to get used to, along with the most capable man I’ve ever worked with in the field, Ted, I know nothing will come near our little camp.

Meanwhile, John and Allen, along with myself, try catching a little shuteye, knowing we will be relieving the others around zero three hundred hours. But long before anyone dozes off for the night, an uneasiness creeps into my bones. There’s an unfamiliar tension buzzing in the warm muggy air that isn’t from the drone of bugs.

Around zero-two-hundred hours, I rise from the damp ground and check on the prisoners before relieving myself in the brush next to the clearing. When I return, the woman prisoner’s dark eyes are following my every move. I stand upright, several feet from where she is lying on her side facing me, trying to read the emotions she’s hiding behind a hateful glare.

Breaking all the rules, I move over to her and lower myself down onto my haunches next to her, leaning on my rifle with the barrel pointing up into the dark night sky. I softly whisper in a tired voice, not really expecting an answer since I’m fairly confident that none of them understand English, I know you hate me, but it isn’t really necessary. I’m not going to hurt you or any of your men. It’s just my job to get you all safely to base. What happens then is out of my hands. But I’m sure if you just answer their questions, you will be treated with respect.

You can imagine my surprise when she responds in broken English with a heavy Latino accent, No hate. Despise. You are enemy. You are evil and you come to kill us and take over our country. She pauses for a brief moment before responding to my bewildered gaze, What? You not happy with your own country? You have to fuck up someone else’s?

Though I’m momentarily dumbfounded by her sharp accusation, I’m even more shocked by her use of the ‘F’ word, something very few foreigners ever say. Moreover, her use of foul English words causes something inside me to warm towards her and I reply in a voice barely more than a whisper with a hint of a smile on