Hunger Unleashed

***

Lt. Bradley Jackson crouched low, aimed his sleek TrackingPoint bolt-action rifle at a group of fierce-looking, gun-wielding men, and then fired in rapid succession. Their screams of pain brought a smirk to Bradley's mouth. Those crooks had no idea who they were up against.

Bradley was a member of the Arrowheads, a Classified Black OPs task force division of the FBI, whose members were drawn from elite Navy Seal teams for special operations, and then released to join their own teams afterward. Its operations were unknown to many inside the organization. It was headed by a Navy Admiral. The Arrowheads were usually called upon whenever there were specific dangerous operations that were usually almost suicidal in description. They were the best of the best. What was different about Bradley's current mission, however, was that it wasn't authorized. Lt. Bradley Jackson was working on his own without any authorization from his Admiral or the knowledge of anyone in his squad. The plan to go solo and find some well-needed answers had been hatched by Bradley on his last mission.

On Bradley's last mission, which had been headed by him since his immediate supervisor hadn't been available, the Arrowheads had lost two of their men. They'd been investigating an underground black market gun sale. Much as losing his colleagues had been a big blow, Bradley had been even more confused because it was obvious they'd been betrayed from the inside. He had, therefore, made it his personal goal to find out who was behind their failed mission. Someone had to pay. In his quest to know the truth, the SEAL had uncovered a deadly secret that had shocked him to the bone. A very high-ranking military person...a three-star general, was the brain behind the underground, black market gun sale. In fact, those guns were stolen from the state and sold illegally.

Immediately he'd uncovered that deadly information, Bradley knew he had to act fast and alone. It was important that he acted alone because apart from the fact that he didn't know who to trust, people that he loved and respected could lose their lives if he involved them. One thing was very clear to Bradley, however. If he wanted to stay alive, he couldn't include that information in his report because he'd be dead immediately he filed that report. He knew that the only way to expose such a high-ranking official would be to get some proof. Till he got proof that could put the corrupt general away, that illegal operation would continue to grow from strength to strength. He also knew that immediately he began to dig for proof, he was a dead man...unless of course, he was able to outsmart and outplay the enemy. In spite of the danger, he knew he'd be in if he went ahead with his plan to expose the general and his syndicate, Bradley was determined to do it because not only did he detest corrupt officials, he also owed it to his dead colleagues.

Bradley had been relentless in his search for proof that could put the general and whoever he was working with, away. After working assiduously for weeks, his diligence had paid off. He finally knew exactly where to find that proof...a shed on a large estate that belonged to General Christopher Grupert. To say Bradley was surprised he'd been able to get that far without getting killed, would be an understatement. The person he was seeking to expose was a three-star general for fuck's sake. The danger he was in could therefore not be overemphasized. But then, Bradley was used to the suicidal nature of his job. After all, he was an Arrowhead.

He'd gotten onto the General's compound with cheeky ease. Everything had been going on smoothly till he'd gotten a distress call from one of the General's accomplices, who he'd blackmailed into pointing him in the right direction. General Grupert was onto him. Even as the man spoke, Bradley had heard a gunshot...then silence. But he could have bet his last cent the bad guys didn't know who he was. They only knew that someone was on their tail. He'd been very careful...at least he thought he'd been. Busted or not, however, Bradley had been determined to finish what he'd started. He'd quickly broken into the shed and grabbed all the documents he needed to prove his case. By the time he heard the first gunshot, the evidence was strapped securely to his back. And that familiar excitement that never ceased to pulse through his veins whenever an opportunity to dispose of an enemy presented itself, was causing through him in spades.

Bradley wasted no time incapacitating the first sixteen armed men who came close to the shed. He didn't have to be a genius to know that they were all military guys. They looked experienced and angry enough. What they obviously didn't know was that an Arrowhead on a mission was a beast. The general's men didn't stand a chance. Each man received a nice gun wound on the hand wielding their gun. If any of the groaning men was strong enough to grab his gun with the other hand, that hand got shot as well. Much as Bradley knew that most of those guys were in on the general's shady deals, he also considered the possibility that some of them might only be following orders. He, therefore, made it a point not to shoot to kill. The wounds would also make it very easy to identify all those military guys who were trying to kill him. After all, no one could possibly hide a gunshot wound to the hand.

"You better surrender, whoever you are." Bradley heard someone bellow in a threatening voice. "We just want to talk. Hey, it's obvious you are a skilled marksman. What are you? A marine? SEAL? A mercenary? Vigilante? Come on, let's talk." The voice had become coaxing. Bradley had to stop himself from bursting into laughter. "We think there's been a misunderstanding. We won't harm you. We just want to talk."

Yeah right, Bradley thought with amusement as he watched a new set of armed guys converging on where he was crouching. The new set was not only armed with very sophisticated guns but was also in full-body armours. He let go of the rifle so that it hung at his side, and then drew out two FN Five-seven pistols which were famed for its ability to penetrate many types of body armour and could fire a hundred rounds per minute. It was supposed to be so powerful, in fact, that it was usually available to only military guys who handled special assignments. Well...if an Arrowhead's assignment wasn't special, then what other assignment was?

"Come to papa, bitches." Bradley muttered as he stood up and began to pick off the men, one after the other.

Their protective gear definitely didn't shield them from Bradley's quick-action pistols. Even as he fired, he inched towards the edge of the property. He knew he had to act smart or get killed. Well, Lt. Bradley Jackson didn't plan on getting killed. Definitely not before he exposed the evil within the military that was bound to grow like a cancer if it wasn't weeded out. Fucking up was definitely not an option.

***

Dr. Jean Broody tapped his fingers against the steering wheel of his stylish, sleek, grey, super luxurious Mercedes S63 AMG Convertible, to the sound of Fuse ODG and Sean Paul's 'Dangerous Love'. He looked very relaxed behind the wheel, obviously enjoying the beautiful sunny weather. It would have been more his style if that sexy, powerful convertible were to be roaring down the road. But from the slow drive and his relaxed posture, Jean was obviously not in a hurry. After that good food and that hot threesome with the sexiest sisters he'd ever had the thrill of fucking at the same time, he was feeling no pain. That wasn't the first time he'd been to the house of the De Luca sisters to have a hot afternoon romp. Those two were insatiable. Jean grinned as he recalled the sisters' words as he was leaving their house that afternoon. They claimed they loved worshipping his hot body and getting their worlds rocked by his amazing cock. Well, he adored them and loved the fun they always had, but they drained the hell out of him each time. Damn! Although he wasn't in a hurry, he couldn't wait to drop into his bed and have a good sleep.

Jean heard the gunshots before he saw the armed men. "The fuck..." He turned off the music and began to slow down since the action was ahead of him. Jean's mouth fell open in shock as he wondered what was going on.

He watched as about seven gun-wielding men in military clothing walked out of a large house onto the street. They looked so fierce Jean unconsciously hit his breaks. What surprised him was the fact that some of the soldiers wore protective gear. It was a Saturday afternoon. What was with the full amour, he wondered. Maybe it was a military drill of sorts, Jean thought. But what happened next quickly shot down that thought. One moment the soldiers were shooting in one direction, in the next moment, all of them were clutching their bloody hands and screaming murder. They'd been shot by someone. But who? Jean couldn't see anyone. With heart pounding in terror, he quickly parked beneath the closest tree and sunk low into his seat so that he wouldn't be seen by anyone. Whoever it was the soldiers were hunting was obviously not only highly trained and dangerous but also had a sense of humour Jean couldn't help but think. But for the fact that he was scared shitless at the sight of all those hunky military men screaming their arses off in pain, he would have laughed his head off.

Jean peaked outside, trying to see the criminal who was handing the soldiers their arses. He saw more soldiers emerge from the high gate of the huge house and heaved a sigh of relief. He hoped they got the bastard before he ran his way. He definitely wouldn't know how to defend himself against a gun-wielding psycho. Although Jean was one of seven children of his parents...all boys, he hated anything that had to do with violence. One would expect someone who grew up amongst boys to be used to some violence but that wasn't the case with Jean. He knew how to defend himself when it became very necessary, thanks to the martial arts classes his father had insisted they all take. But that was about it. Jean didn't think his skills, which he was sure he'd forgotten anyway, could compete with gunshots. He heard more shots and screams just as a figure clad in black jeans, a black t-shirt that stuck to his body like a second skin, black cap, and black gun holsters on his hips, shoulders and thighs, started running towards where he was parked.

"Oh no, no, no..." Jean groaned as he peeked at the G. I. Joe figure heading his way. "Not like this..." He muttered, knowing his end was near. He contemplated calling his mum to say farewell. Then he decided to spare the poor woman and call his twin brother Dean instead. After all, he was going to miss Dean the most...that is if there was anything such as missing in the life beyond.

But Jean couldn't even bring himself to reach for his cell phone. So he closed his eyes and began to pray like he'd never prayed before. He prayed hard to be spared such an anticlimactic death. He was having so much fun in the world to leave it that soon. Maybe he could clean up his act... Jean asked God to forgive him for what he'd just done with the De Luca sisters and all his other kinky encounters. He promised to be good. If God could just...

Jean heard footsteps beside him and opened his eyes. He told himself not to look but his eyes and head wouldn't obey. He found himself staring at an African-American male of not less than six-foot, with broad shoulders and a slender but well-honed muscled body which was evident under the tight black T-shirt he wore. He couldn't see his face well due to the cap that had been pulled down low to shield the criminal's eyes. Jean watched as the man stood to his full height right beside his car and aimed at the military men. This time he shot at each man's shoulder. He did it with precision and cheeky ease. Jean gulped audibly. He couldn't help but marvel at the fact that there was no scratch on the man. He was obviously a pro. When the man began to turn his head in Jean's direction, he knew his end had really come. He couldn't believe the big guy upstairs hadn't listened to his prayer. And after all the lives he'd saved too... That should at least count for something, right? How about all the happy endings he'd given to all those women? Surely that could...

"Dean?" The criminal growled. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Jjj...Jake...Jack...Jackson..." Jean stuttered as he stared up with his face filled with shock and incredulity at the man he'd met about twice. The man was a Navy Seal for fuck's sake. "Ha...have you gone rogue?"

"Get the fuck out of here Dean," Bradley growled. "Now!"

"And risk getting shot at?" Jean gasped. "Are you nuts?"

"I will distract them to enable you..."

"How about hopping in so we both get out of here?" Jean shot back. He knew he would be better off having someone who could shoot, inside his car at that particular moment.

"I already have my own exit, asshole." Bradley looked exasperated. "Go now before I do otherwise you will become a target. And trust me, they will kill you."

"I can't see any cars around." Jean turned his head to quickly scan the area. "Where exactly is that exit?"

"Fuck me!" Bradley rasped, wishing he could deck his colleague's annoying friend. "Cool droptop." He murmured, giving Jean's convertible a fleeting, uninterested look. "Too bad it's going to be riddled with bullets anytime soon. Will you just do as I say, you idiot." He growled, growing exasperated by the second. But for the fact that his friend and fellow Arrowhead, Ty, who also happened to be his supervisor, would tear him a new one if Dean lost his life, Bradley would have left the fool to his own devices. He looked up and saw about twelve armed men turn in their direction. "I won't say this again, Dean. Get the fuck out of here before they notice you and start shooting."

"Look at the number coming." Jean retorted, sinking even lower into his seat. "Surely you can't escape..."

"I've been escaping just fine so far," Bradley growled as he reached into the Convertible and turned on the engine. "Now go."

"Just..."

"Fuck!" Bradley suddenly gasped in pain. "I'm hit, you asshat." He groaned, feeling a sharp pain in his groin area. "Oh god, I swear if I lose my dick I'm going to kill you myself, you idiot." Even as the pain stole his breath, Bradley leaned against the side of the car and shot at the men running towards them. He began to pant harshly as the pain in his groin intensified. "No, no..." He protested weakly when he saw Jean getting out of the car. "Just go."

But Jean ignored Bradley's protests and rather pushed him with all his might, into the backseat of the car. Then he jumped back into his seat, floored the accelerator, and tore out of there even as the hood of the car rose to cover its occupants. Jean heard and felt about two bullets hitting his car but he wasn't bothered at all. His main goal was to get Bradley to a hospital. Dr. Jean Broody drove like a maniac. The need to get Bradley medical help overrode any sense of fear he felt. In his head, he dared the shooters to chase him. He didn't think any vehicle they had at that moment could outride his car which was said to be the world's fastest four-seat convertible. The assholes were welcome to try. It was time to get his money's worth he thought even as he quickly unbuttoned his shirt.

***

"Fuck Dean, I'm gonna kill you." Bradley groaned from the backseat.

Jean shrugged out of his shirt, leaving his undershirt. Then still driving as if the hounds of hell were on his tail, he threw his shirt over his shoulder onto Bradley. "Keep that pressed on the wound. Where does it hurt?" He asked even as he began to dial Ty's number.

"What the fuck is it to you?" Bradley snapped. "Last time I checked you were a fucking architect."

"I'm not Dean." Jean sighed. "I'm Dean's twin, Jean. Remember me?"

"Are you shitting me?" Bradley growled and tried to sit up but fell back down when the pain intensified. "Oh shit. I can't believe I got shot for nothing. You're not even Dean." Bradley remembered Dean's outrageously crazy twin. They'd met at Ty's bachelor party and also at his surprise wedding. "I should have fucking left you to die you asshole. I'm sure I would have been given a medal a least for your death."

"I just saved your life you dickhead." Jean retorted as he redialed Ty's number.

"You fucking got me shot, idiot." Bradley bellowed. "Did you by any chance just escape from a mental institution? Or is it that you're just dense. What the fuck were you doing in the area anyway?"

"Came to have sex." Jean deadpanned, wishing he could give the rude, grumpy, ungrateful son-of-a-bitch behind him a dirty slap. "Why the fuck didn't you pick up on the first ring?" He snapped immediately Ty picked up the call.

"Settle down, Doc." Ty's amused chuckled could be heard through the car's audio speakers. They could also hear soft gurgling sounds coming from a baby. "I wasn't near my phone. What's up?"

"Your stupid best man went rogue and got shot by some military guys. What..."

"Jackson got shot?" Ty's bellow drew a wail from the baby he was obviously near, making Jean wince. "Shh...sorry darling," Ty murmured soothingly. "Tell me he's okay Jean." Although he tried to speak calmly, the desperation in his voice couldn't be masked. "Where is he?"

"In my car. I'm driving directly to the hospital." Jean said, driving through a red light.

"Jackson?" Ty called out, the anxiety in his voice, palpable.

"Ty." Bradley tried to mask the pain in his voice but couldn't.

"Talk to me, buddy. How bad is it?"

"Hurts like a bitch but I'll live." Bradley groaned.

"Good." Ty's sigh of relief was audible. "What the fuck is going on?"

"Hey, mind your language around the babies, dickwad..."

"They're only three months." Ty retorted. "Better start talking."

"Utter crookedness that will blow your mind, Ty. With the level it was coming from, I had to find hard evidence. Fortunately, I have it."

"How high up?" Ty breathed.

"Very high Ty. I'd say the pinnacle."

"Shit!" Ty swore. "Why didn't you come to me?"

"I didn't want to put your life in danger."

"Bullshit," Ty growled.

"You have to think about Tanesha and those little angels buddy. I had...have everything under control."

"You call getting shot having everything under control?" Ty sounded incredulous.

"Everything was going great till this asshole here showed up," Bradley growled. "He got me shot. So stupid." He added under his breath but Jean heard him. Fortunately, he was too busy maneuvering the car to pay him any attention.

"Have you been made?" Ty sounded so worried.

"I don't think so," Bradley grunted. "No." He said with more conviction.

"Jean?" Ty called.

"Yeah?"

"No hospitals. Take him home and fix him."

"Are you nuts?" Jean screeched. "He got shot. It has to be treated in a hospital. That's where he can receive the best care."

"Listen to me, Jean," Ty said quietly but urgently. "His life is in danger. Even as I speak, whoever is behind it is working hard, trying to know who he is." Ty was certain that whoever Bradley was on to, was bound to know his identity soon enough. "Some high-level people are involved in whatever is going on, Jean. Their goal at the moment is to silence him."

"Well, they and me both..." Jean muttered.

"Jean..." Ty grunted in exasperation.

"What?" Jean barked, jumping another red light.

"This is serious." Ty sighed. "You need to take him home. I don't know how close they are to figuring it out so I can't come to your house now. I might lead them right to Bradley. Your house is the best place, Jean. I know you have everything you'd need to treat him. Stay in. Don't come out. Even if you have to, be cautious."

"Fuck!" Jean muttered.

"Please do this for me, Jean. Save him." Ty sounded desperate. "You're the best person for him right now." He added, sounding hopeful and relieved. As a General Surgeon, Jean was a specialist trained to diagnose, treat, and manage patients with a broad spectrum of surgical conditions affecting almost any area of their bodies.

"Asshole might just kill me himself before those criminals even get to me." Bradley rasped.

"At this rate, I just might." Jean drawled, turning to give Bradley a quick glance. It was a quick one but it was enough to see that his white shirt was already soaked with blood. "Shit." He muttered with a frown. "All right, I'll take him home," Jean said but he didn't change course. He kept driving towards the hospital. "This is fucked up."

"Don't contact me." Ty cautioned. "I'll contact you. Stay safe." With that, Ty hung up and plunged the car into silence.

"Just great!" Jean muttered even as he began to dial another number. He hated what he was about to do but it had to be done.