Aaron finally arrives, looking like an owl with his placid face and round glasses. And also like a transformer. He has one normal leg, and one made from the best technology, apparently.

I shake hands with him, trying to see the resemblance between him and the beauty my buddy Derek married—this guy’s sister. They both have smooth brown skin—hers darker, but that’s about it.

“Let me check the space real quick,” Aaron says, then gets to work.

Eventually, he sits in front of Angel’s computer which I’ve set up for him.

“Well, her computer camera has definitely been hacked,” he says at some point. 

I’m a bit surprised, but mostly focused on reaching Angel—she hasn’t responded to any of my texts since confirming arrival at the coffee shop.

A few minutes later, Aaron says, “Christ, does this girl know anything about internet security?”

“Isn’t ‘internet security’ a delusion?” I say, finally turning my attention to him.

“Certain steps can be taken to reduce the likelihood of getting your info jacked by just about anyone.”

Several nerve-wracking minutes later, he spins to give me a look, one that worries me.

“What?” I say roughly.

“Whoever this is, they made it seem like you’re behind it.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“They put enough pieces out there to point to you—all these anonymous messages from ‘J’ sent from your locations, for example. And then there’s this.”

He points to a recent email to Angel’s Lailah account. From me.

“Is this your actual email address?” Aaron asks, pointing at it.

“Yeah, but I didn’t write that.”

“It came from an IP in this vicinity.”

“This is impossible.”

“Definitely not impossible. Anyone who can get into your email account can send an email from it—pretty simple stuff. Do you stay signed in? Is your password a word in the dictionary? You’d be surprised how easily or quickly someone can hack in, especially if they’re close to you.”

“Come on, no one will believe I tried to terrorize her. I… I have feelings for her. I’ve been protecting her.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s all about where paths lead. You’ll look caught with your hand in the cookie jar, so to speak, and you’re actually exactly the type people will buy as guilty—authorities always look to the closest person to the victim—the significant other, in most cases—and in this case, it’s you. This guy has done several minor things to point to you—some basic, but some pretty damned savvy, beyond what I’ve shown you. Whoever this is, he’s good...” I can hear the ‘but’ coming, and relief starts taking over me, knowing we’re at least one step closer, “…but not that good. He made a lot of mistakes, particularly with Twitter. If the average person tried to track him down, he might’ve succeeded in ducking them.”

“Well, obviously you’re not here because you’re average.”

He breaks a tiny smile, turning back to the computer.

* * *

Something’s wrong.

I know Angel wanted a bit of space during the day, but not answering any of my texts and calls? Not even to coordinate the changing of the guard, so to speak?

This can’t be right.

Finally, I text Butch directly.

Butch, what the fuck? Where’s Angel? You’re with her, right?

After a few painstaking seconds, Butch responds with just a smiley face, and my hair stands on end.

Usually, it takes far more than an emoji to rattle my cage, but with Angel missing, last in his custody, the odd response gives me the creeps.

Nothing can happen to her—not when we’ve made such progress. Not when I’m finally in a place where it’s okay to let her know how I feel about her.

I tell myself I’m probably just being paranoid.

Maybe Butch is keeping a particularly close eye right now and can’t be bothered sending a full message…

My phone buzzes with another text.

Let’s see you fail to protect once more. See how you feel when you lose something you love.

Dread fills me as I stare at the text from Butch.

Now I know for sure that something has gone wrong and that the guy I trusted to look out for Angel had a direct hand in it.

Maybe I should’ve known better, but Butch made it clear to me in every possible way that he was still cool with me, that he didn’t blame me for what happened with his brother.

It was one of those situations where a split-second decision meant that I ended up whisked away to safety while his brother was shot to death. The way it went down, everyone agreed they would have done the same—an Afghan trainee had turned on us and the result was pure luck of the draw.

I was sure Butch wasn’t holding the incident against me—he’d said so himself.

But I suppose it’s tough to look at someone who made it out of the same situation that claimed the life of a loved one. It’s hard not to resent the survivor to some degree.

Guess Butch was just biding his time to get back at me, or perhaps he simply saw a convenient opportunity, suddenly realizing he held his brother’s death against me after all.

But there’s no excuse for what he has done—bringing an innocent person into this.

Don’t do this to me, Butch, I text back. She has nothing to do with anything. Your beef is with me.

No answer comes, and the room feels like it’s closing in.

Angel is clearly in danger, and with Butch’s betrayal, I’m at a severe disadvantage for finding her.

I switch gears and head outside for some fresh air, then compose a new text; I’m going to have to gather up all the resources I can.

I need you, I send Derek.

My phone rings less than a minute later.

“What do you need?”

“Butch betrayed me. He was supposed to watch her for me, but something’s wrong.”

“Shit.”

“I’ll need some men to help me find her and deal with the people behind it.”

“Got it,” Derek says. “See you soon.”

I hang up and head back inside, remembering one of my greatest assets is still in there.

Aaron can help me find her, and my comrades will help me deal with the folks behind her kidnapping.

* * *

I barely take two steps when Aaron suddenly says triumphantly, “Leonard Jeremiah Hall. That’s who it all leads to.”

I’m vaguely aware of his wide grin suddenly disappearing as the name sinks in.

“What, you know this guy?” he asks, his eyes intently on my face as the door closes behind me.

Know him? I went to school with him, graduated with him. We hit up bars together, bitched about girls together. If I ever had a wedding, I figured he’d be among the groomsmen.

Leonard, a guy who has known me since junior high, could definitely figure out my email password, among other things.

“Yeah,” I say simply. “And it seems he has her in his possession as we speak. Do you think you can figure out where she is?”

“I will,” he says, turning back to the equipment.

* * *

Everything is coming together.

I’m armed with information, and additional manpower quickly arrived, thanks to connections with helicopter access.

Affection hits me once Derek’s ruggedly handsome face comes into view.

He’s rocking a full beard, and his hair isn’t in a familiar cut either—his dark locks are free and I find myself envious of his freedom from the high-stress, high-fatality nature of our work.

Retirement sure looks good.

Even if Angel decides she doesn’t want me after all, maybe it’s about time I leave all the Rambo shit to the next age group and find a different line of work, something less life-threatening, more stable.

I’d already arranged military separation, but I’d been considering remaining in the reserves.

I momentarily feel bad for dragging Derek out of his ‘retirement’ and away from his growing family.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, apparently reading my mind. Or my slightly guilty-looking face. “You scratched my back, I’ll scratch yours. I still owe you and I’m happy to repay the debt. What are we dealing with here?”

“Just found out an old friend of mine’s been stalking my girl and kidnapped her in the past few hours or so. Gotta find her and deal with him.”

It won’t matter that Leonard and I saw each other through sprouting chest hairs and deepening voices, that we made all sorts of promises—if Leonard has hurt my Angel, he might as well be a stranger for all the pity I’ll take on him.

I shake my head. “What is it with us, man? Why do people—especially civvies—try us and fuck with our women?”

“I don’t know, but another’s one’s gonna learn today. ”

* * *

Aaron found the location so easily, he’d wondered if it was a trap, but it didn’t matter—it was our only lead.

My men and I get to the old warehouse and storm it, clearly surprising the four occupants.

Rage fills me as I see Angel strapped to a chair, wearing something she wasn’t wearing this morning—a red corset and matching panties.

Someone had undressed her and redressed her, and the thought fills me with rage.

I wonder what else they did to her besides going crazy with blush on her cheeks and colorful eyeshadow, making her look like some sort of doll?

I chase Leonard as he attempts to flee, restraining him while his two henchmen go limp as the injection to the neck they’re given by Tyler and Derek takes.

Leonard is spared temporary unconsciousness, however, and I hand his struggling body to my team in order to free Angel.

I’m relieved and disappointed Butch isn’t here; he’s a problem I’ll have to deal with later.

In the meantime, we tie Leonard to the chair he’d had Angel in, then Tyler and Derek flank his sides.

“This was such a huge mistake, Leonard,” I say to him, shaking my head as I pace in front of him. “Why the hell would you do this?”

“You should talk. You fucked my ex, man? Bros before...”

“Shut the fuck up. You don’t own her. Don’t you get it? And I was there all those times you made it clear you didn’t give a shit about her. She deserves better than you.”

“Oh, and that’s you? That’s rich.”

“Well, let’s see—I actually care about her,” I say, glancing at Angel standing off to the side, glaring at Leonard with her arms crossed over her torso.

She looks shaken and a little self-conscious in the skimpy clothing, but determined to watch the show.

I turn back to Leonard. “You cheated on her and left her alone so many times to show her who was boss. She was your emotional punching bag, an object to stand on and make yourself feel big and powerful. I’d never do that to her. Or this,” I say, my arm sweeping back to indicate the camera. “Leonard, you’re gonna pay for this.” My mind is still working on how.

I resume my pacing.

“So what should we do with him?” Derek says after a few seconds of quiet. “Wanna disappear him?”

“We can’t do that this time—I have a few considerations in this case,” I say, still thinking. I turn to a now-trembling Leonard. “You’re lucky we have history, that I know your mom, your siblings.”

It’s a bit painful to lose someone who’s been in my life so long like this.

In my line of work, losses abound, and you come to treasure your earlier relationships.

There aren’t a lot of opportunities to find and forge new lifelong relationships. Strong bonds, yes, but you know you may or may not come out of the tour alive.

Then it hits me.

I turn back to the guys patiently awaiting my instructions.

“Do the same thing he planned to do to her,” I decide. “Strip him. Let’s get him ready for his internet video debut.”

The boys rip his clothes off gleefully while Leonard stammers and struggles furiously, his eyes huge and round with terror.

I sort out the camera.

“Should I fuck him?” Tyler says once the task is done. “My dick’s kind of hard from all this excitement.”

I give him a look. “Do you actually swing that way or is it just for funsies?”

He shrugs. “Mostly for funsies. I kind of want to see his face once he’s bent over, and definitely once he realizes what’s coming.”

Derek laughs while naked Leonard is clearly horrified by the thought.

Meanwhile, I know Tyler is just fucking with him.

I grin. “Get out of the way while I get some shots of him like this.”

I notice Angel’s now smiling all Grinch-like at Leonard’s predicament.

Guess it must be pretty satisfying to watch the person who violated her get an immediate fitting punishment; he looks almost exactly as she did a few minutes ago.

“Let’s pose him in some fun positions!” Tyler says, and the guys work on a few, treating him like a skin puppet.

Tears are streaming down Leonard’s face now.

The taping shenanigans continue, and Tyler is having a bit too much fun.

“Nice shot—did you get that?” he says to me, indicating the camera. Then he turns back to Leonard. “God, you’re an ugly crier. Can you hold the snot? You’re making my dick soft.”

Then Tyler moves to bend Leonard over for the camera, and I turn away.

After a few more shots, I say, “I think we’re good,” turning off the camera for the final time. “I’ll have this edited and packaged by someone who knows how to cover tracks. Meanwhile,” I say, walking over to a sobbing Leonard, “Let’s make a deal. You confess to everything you’ve done to Angel—the stalking, the kidnapping—leaving us out of the whole thing. Tell them you were obsessed with her or whatever, which is obviously true, but eventually, your conscience got the better of you, and you let her go. She’ll press charges, you’ll plead guilty, and the most you’ll probably get is a few years. Appropriate, don’t you think?”

He doesn’t reply.

I can make sure he’s put away for a good chunk of time—he’s guilty of harassment and kidnapping at minimum; he’ll probably get five years.

We’ll keep an eye on him through the whole thing.

“In the meantime, Angel’s footage will have vanished into thin air, of course, but yours won’t. If these images ever happen to surface someday, say you made them out of desperation, in hopes of launching your own internet fame. In a way, you wanted to replace your greatest obsession; you wanted to be her. You try anything else and…hey, look at me.” I wait for him to look into my eyes. “…and you’re a dead man. It’ll be long and painful too. I won’t let you hurt her again.”

Leonard’s eyes widen appropriately; he knows I’m not exaggerating.

Tyler starts throwing out some ideas for painful deaths, and Leonard starts sobbing again.

I know him better than most and this whole thing is going to destroy him. 

He usually leads everyone to elevated opinions about him through careful posturing. He likes looking macho, in charge, values being perceived as an alpha.

But there’s no coming back from this.

Who is he going to convince he’s ‘the man’ now?

Leonard will never live this down.

And then what? I wonder.

What if Leonard decides he’ll make me pay by going for the jugular at the next opportunity? What if he decides he’ll hurt Angel to punish both her and me?

I can’t be with her twenty-four seven, though I can have eyes on her most of the time.

She won’t like it, but it’s necessary until he’s locked away.

“Hey, I just realized I’m doing you a favor!” I say brightly. “Maybe you’ll get some stripes back after being labeled a convict—depending on how things go in there, of course. Won’t actually help if you become someone’s bitch.”

Tyler laughs in sort of an insane way, and I can tell it worries Leonard even more.

As far as Leonard is concerned, he’s surrounded by deadly lunatics loyal to me and he might not actually make it as long as I promised.

He won’t try anything now, he’ll go to the authorities with his head down, and I’ll keep up with what’s happening with him once he’s put away.

Ultimately, I might have to snuff him out if he gets angrier and more vengeful instead of figuring out a different path and letting everything go.

In any case, I’ll be watching him very carefully.