Chapter 7 Spiked
One month had passed since Boyle’s burial.
Maverick sat behind a large wooden desk in his new office at the military base. The room still looked exactly as his brother had left it neat, organized, untouched. It didn’t feel like his office at all. It felt like Boyle’s.
His eyes lifted to the picture on the wall, the Richard family. Boyle smiled warmly, while Maverick’s own face was cold and distant. Even in the picture, the difference between them was clear.
After Boyle’s death, Maverick had been promoted to captain of his brother’s platoon. He had taken over not only Boyle’s position but also the secret mission his brother had been working on.
When Boyle was declared missing, Maverick had joined the search team at the northern border. The explosion had been too massive, no one could have survived it.
The mission Boyle went on was classified, connected to stolen ammunition from the base. But what bothered Maverick most was this: how did the enemy know about the mission?
A knock on the door broke his thoughts.
“Come in,” he said.
A young soldier stepped inside, holding a stack of folders. He looked nervous. When he saluted, the folders slipped from his hands and scattered across the floor. He froze under Maverick’s piercing stare before quickly gathering them again.
“Captain, I…I brought the files you asked for,” the soldier stammered.
“Put them down,” Maverick said calmly. “And sit, Private John.”
John did as he was told, placing the folders neatly on the desk before sitting down. Maverick opened the top one, scanning through the papers with sharp, focused eyes.
“You worked with Captain Boyle before he disappeared,” Maverick said without looking up.
“Yes, sir,” John replied. “I handled some office work for him, paperwork, schedules, and reports.”
Maverick finally looked up, his gaze cold and unreadable. “What did my brother tell you about the ammunition theft?”
John shifted uneasily. “Not much, sir. He said some bullets had gone missing. He thought someone inside the base was involved, but he couldn’t prove it yet.”
Maverick tapped one of the envelopes on the table that had ‘secret’ written on it. “And this?”
“That one came a week before Captain Boyle went missing,” John said. “It was delivered by an unknown source.”
Maverick opened it. Inside were several photographs, blurry but clear enough to show a man loading boxes into a truck at night. Boyle’s handwriting was scrawled on the edge of one photo: ‘Inside job.’ Another note said ‘The emblem.’ The next page had been ripped out.
Maverick’s jaw tightened. His brother had been close to something, something that might have gotten him killed.
“Did Boyle mention anyone specific?” he asked.
“No, sir,” John answered quickly. “But on the day that file came, he left the base in a hurry. He looked… angry.”
Maverick leaned back in his chair. “Private,” he said slowly, “I want all his call logs, messages, and reports from last year up to when he disappeared, also check his car locations. Don’t tell anyone. If you do…” his eyes darkened, “…you’ll regret it.”
John swallowed hard. “Yes, sir. Captain Boyle was a good man. I want to help.”
Maverick studied him for a moment, then nodded. “Go. And keep your mouth shut.”
As John reached the door, Maverick added, “One more thing, find out where this emblem came from.”
“Yes, sir!”
When the soldier left, Maverick opened the photo again, his finger tracing the faded emblem on the truck.
His brother had died chasing the truth.
And he would find it no matter what it cost.
It was late but Maverick stayed in the base, his eyes scanned the classified files sprawled across his desk. He had gone over them a dozen times already looking for clues, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something crucial was missing. He exhaled sharply, stood, and went to the small fridge in the corner.
The cold drink slid easily down his throat. For a moment, it cooled his nerves then, a strange heat started creeping up his spine, slow at first, then intense.
He frowned, tugging at his collar. Sweat beaded on his forehead. His heart raced, pounding hard in his chest. He yanked off his jacket and turned on the air conditioner, hoping it would help.
It didn’t. The heat spread through his body like wildfire, rushing through his veins until it hit him low, making his cock throb painfully.
“What the hell”
He glanced at the bottle in his hand. The faint sweet smell now seemed wrong.
“Fuck!” he cursed, his vision blurred . He stood fast, nearly knocking over his chair. He had to get out of here, get home before he lost control completely.
His hand brushed his pants, and he groaned, the touch sending a jolt through his burning body.
Ignoring the soldiers’ greetings as he stormed out, his jaw tight, Maverick climbed into his car. His hands gripped the wheel hard as he sped away from the base, the fire inside him raging with every second.
~~~~~~~~~~
Maverick got into the house, it was quiet, he sighed in relief he didn’t meet anyone, not even the maids. His cock was rock hard, already bulging from his trousers, he couldn’t let anyone see him like that.
He hurried to his room, slammed the door behind him, and rushed straight to the bathroom.
He turned on the shower and stood under the cold spray, hoping it would cool the fire in his veins. Minutes passed, but the water did nothing. His blood still burned, his dick throbbed painfully, demanding release.
Cursing under his breath, he stripped off his soaked clothes. His erection sprang free, hot and heavy, pulsing with need.
He hissed, the sensation sharp, almost unbearable. Stepping out of the bathroom, water dripped from his skin, His eyes were bloodshot, wild, his chest heaving with ragged breaths.
Maverick gripped himself, his hand moved over his cock in slow, desperate strokes. He groaned, low and rough, the sound echoing in the quiet room,
Until the door opened.
