Step Out, Step Up: Lessons Learned from a Lifetime of Transitions and Military Service
by Mark E. Green
Warrior/Athlete Mark E. Green shares his inspiring story in his new book Step Out, Step Up: Lessons from a Lifetime of Transitions and Military Service along with the many hard-won lessons he’s learned through 34 years of military service and the many transitions he and his family have experienced along the way.
Description
A must-read book for anyone who has endured trauma yet dreams of leading a successful and happy life. Mark E. Green, a Lieutenant Colonel in the US Army (retired), came from grinding poverty in rural Missouri, the oldest boy of six children. In this moving memoir, he candidly shares his unlikely path of working his way up from an enlisted man to an officer. Green served his country for thirty-four years (twenty-four in active duty). He was a member of the 82nd Airborne and “Soldier of the Year” for his battalion, as well as a pioneering member of the Army’s taekwondo team that went on to be recognized as the All Army Sports team that competes for the Olympics.
Green served two tours as an Inspector General, including a yearlong deployment to Afghanistan, where he was responsible for that role in the southern half of the country. After sustaining a potentially career-ending hip injury in his last month of deployment, Green fought his way back to full health, battling daily through an arduous recovery as he learned to walk again.
Green is dedicating the remainder of his life to inspiring hope, helping smooth transition, and improving resilience for his military brothers and sisters, veterans, and their families. He resides in Orlando, Florida, with his wife, Denise, son Adam, and Green’s mother.
Co-author Echo Montgomery Garrett is a multi-award-winning author based in Marietta, Georgia.
The authors are donating 10 percent of net profits from book sales to nonprofits serving veterans and their families, young people in poverty, and soldier-athletes.
Book Video
What books should you read to help you become a leader? HarperCollins Senior Vice President and Director of Creative Development Lisa Sharkey shares her #ReadToLead picks for the leadership books that changed her life 2017 and could change yours for the better. Top of the list: Step Out, Step Up: Lessons Learned from a Lifetime of Transitions and Military Service by Mark E. Green.
Excerpt
Click below to read an excerpt.
Praise for the Book
“Mark is authentic by sharing many of his most personal thoughts at the most challenging moments of his life. We can all connect with what he is dealing with as he had overcome so much. There is a hint of humor, love, suffering, loss and so much more. Great read for everyone that wants to get a nice shot of motivation to keep shooting forward.” ~ Denny
“I, being a former soldier and law enforcement officer, enjoyed the read and recommend it to others.” ~ Joe Sanchez, co-author of True Blue: A Tale of The Enemy Within; Latin Blues; Red Herring The Stinking Trail: Police Corruption In Washington Heights; and Yellow Streak
“This inspiring book about a boy who grew up in a troubled home demonstrates how hard work, perseverance and sheer determination can turn someone's life around. It’s written in first person and drew me into Mark Green's often harsh world - and his triumphs. I hardily recommend it!” ~ Michael Goodman
“Not just a story about the military life, this story of perseverance and overcoming an extremely harsh start in life is relevant to anyone who thinks they're not able to do any better. Mark literally and figuratively lifted himself up by his bootstraps and carefully lays it out in this book just what one must do to change one's life, one step at a time. Very well-written page-turner that I highly recommend to anyone who needs that extra encouragement to set goals and go after them.” ~ Carol Montgomery
“Mark's triumph over dreadful obstacles life kept throwing his way is truly inspiring. One must focus on the positives rather than negatives life has to offer. A great book well worth reading!” ~ Yohana Arguello
About the Author
Mark E. Green started as a private in the US Army in December 1982 and retired as a Lieutenant Colonel on October 1, 2017, without a break in service. He gave twenty-four years of active duty, including three years in the 82nd Airborne, served in the National Guard as a combat arms–enlisted soldier and officer, and served as an Army Reserve full-time soldier. He served in Afghanistan as an Inspector General in charge of the southern half of the country, along the red desert from the borders of Pakistan to Iran.
As a young soldier, he was also a pioneer black-belt member of the first ever taekwondo team that went to the US Nationals and that led to the future All Army teams who became part of the Army World Class Athlete Program. That first pioneer team and all subsequent teams have competed annually for spots on the US Olympic team.
Green has devoted the remainder of his career to helping those in military service, veterans, and their families with resiliency and transition. He holds a doctorate of law from Taft Law School, Santa Ana, California, and a master’s degree in organizational management and communications from Concordia University, St Paul, Minnesota. He is also a Jack Canfield–Certified Success Principles Coach, and a graduate of Boots to Business program of Syracuse University and of the Army Corporate Partner (ACP) Mentorship Program. He completed Dynamic Speakers International SCORRE and is a member and officer of Lake Nona Toastmasters. He volunteers his time as a mentor for the Camaraderie Foundation that supports veterans in transition.
His purpose in sharing his story in Step Out, Step Up: Lessons Learned from a Lifetime of Transition and Military Service is to encourage others to have hope and recognize that no matter where you come from, you can achieve your dreams. In Warrior’s Code 001 (releasing March 2018), he shares his secrets to developing a mindset that boosts resiliency and smooths transitions. He developed these strategies from his own experiences with his family, hard-earned lessons, and education, and is developing a curriculum around them.
His company, My Silver Boots, LLC, is a Florida-based, veteran-owned, made-in-the-USA small business, which has earmarked 10 percent of its profits to be divided among the following nonprofits that serve veterans and their families; underserved youth dealing with poverty, homelessness, or foster care; and US Army athletes.
Green resides with wife, Denise, teenage son Adam, and his mom in Florida. As one of the nation’s top experts on military transition, Green thrives on speaking about resilience and transformational change.
Author Rod Humphris stops by today to share an excerpt from Dead Ground, his debut short story introducing the character of his upcoming Simon Ellice series. You can also read my review. Coming soon Go Fast.
Description
In the mountains and passes of Nuristan the men of patrol base Azun grind through their days and nights of constant vigilance. They hunt the Taliban and try to win hearts and minds. Trouble is coming, that is certain. How or when, where and in what form, they do not know. They fear it and also long for it.
Only Lieutenant Simon Ellice, with a clarity born of grief and anger, can see the shape of it. Only he, being beyond care, will do what has to be done and pay the price. Not that he will be the only one to pay.
Dead Ground is a story of the impossibility of the task assigned to British forces in Afghanistan and the heroism of some of those who attempted it.
Excerpt
“Rosy fingered dawn,” I said.
The high cloud had softened the light, and the new day was breaking in pink.
“Did she, sir?” Hesketh said.
“Night’s candles are burnt out and jocund day stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops,” I said.
“You’re an unusual kind of rupert sometimes, sir,” Deaks said. “No offence intended.”
“None taken. We must have bloody noses and crack’d crowns and pass them current too. God’s me, my…”
“Are you alright, sir?” Denton said.
“Don’t mind him, corp,” Hesketh said. “He gets like this sometimes.”
“… horse, I think,” I said.
“It’s getting light, sir,” Denton said.
“Eyes sharp everyone,” I said.
“By the way, what are we doing here, sir?” Deaks said. “I don’t care like, but I was just wondering. Why today?”
“Do you know what I think?” I said.
“Not usually, sir,” Hartigan said.
“I think Wur was green slime.”
“Was, sir?”
“Yes, was. I found him behind the stores tent earlier. I think Jadoon and a couple of ANAs killed him and I think it means it’s all about to kick off.”
“Well fuck me, I’d never of guessed,” Hesketh said.
Below us in the base there was a sharp crack and the signals hut collapsed in on itself. Armed men streamed out of the mosque and ran to cross the river at the bridge and at a shallow place downstream of it. As they neared the barriers a heavy machine gun opened up from the house below us.
“You were right, sir,” Denton said.
“Comms on. Engage the enemy,” I said.
Thompson started working with the gimpy, trying to stop the tide of men surging over the barriers.
[Want more? Click below to read a longer excerpt.]
Praise for the Book
"I have a Master’s in Military History and I have been reading military books for well over 40 years. This is one of the best war books I have ever read. It is a must read now that we are stuck in this endless War on Terror. My only issue was that this book wasn’t 550 pages. It is such an incredible compelling read that I was saddened it ended so quick. The author captures perfectly the insanity of theatres of war that soldiers have been sent to in this war. [...] I would suggest this brilliantly written, evocative war book is a must read." ~ N. N. Light
"Fast moving, genuinely exciting and a thoroughly cracking read, this short story reminds me of the best of John Buchan, albeit updated for today. It is well written, well researched and quickly creates a very believable atmosphere of what being a modern British soldier is like, warts and all." ~ David Shearer
"The plot hangs together well and skilfully builds to a denouement where the fine details coalesce into a clear pattern. It is well constructed, well written and sustains interest throughout. Simon Ellice is not someone you have to like, but he is both an interesting and complex character whose life and emotional responses are down to the reader to interpret and extrapolate. He is certainly someone you feel you would like to know more about and I look forward to further adventures with anticipation." ~ Emma White
"I read this book in a single sitting, it really is a terrific read. With many years experience of military life I am amazed at the way Humphris has managed to capture the day to day stresses, routines, and unpleasantness of army life. The plot is convincing and fast moving it's tough out there." ~ Colin
"This is a tremendously exciting debut, immediately throwing you into the midst of active army deployment in Afghanistan, with social and psychological conundrums facing senior personnel as they think on their feet in an almost lose-lose situation. Utterly un-put-downable after the first three pages. I await the next Simon Ellice story with relish, Mr Humphris." ~ Bevis Nathan
Having recently suffered the loss of someone close to him, Lieutenant Simon Ellice returns to his base camp in the mountains of north eastern Afghanistan, where they train Afghan National Army soldiers. With his trusty band of C Section soldiers, Simon ventures out into the "dead ground" - the ground not visible from the base camp and, therefore, prone to attack - in search of insurgents. As the men are fond of saying, "What could possibly go wrong?"
The story is a bit hard to follow as nothing is spelled out, there are a lot of characters, and it's full of military jargon; an explanation the first time each term is used, or a glossary of terms at the end of the book, would be useful. Nevertheless, the author skillfully creates an atmosphere of foreboding and builds the tension. And once the action hits, all of the pieces come together to complete the puzzle.
Warnings: coarse language, violence.
About the Author
When I was a boy I loved stories of adventure. Inside I’m still a boy and now I love them even more. It’s taken me thousands of hours to learn how to write the stories that I do, but it’s one of the best things I’ve ever done. In my opinion anyway.
A few years ago, I started to write about a fast boat on a dark sea. Like doodling, only in words. And then there was Si speaking to me, telling me what was happening and what it felt like. At the time I thought his voice in my head was a new one, but I was wrong; I’ve known the ruthless, selfish bastard all my life. Since then he’s become my constant companion. Or, more accurately, I’ve become his. We’ve been to a lot of places together and he’s introduced me to some interesting and scary people. It’s a journey that has only just begun. Come with us if you want to.
I have no special qualifications to be a writer except that I want to be. I live where I’m from in the West Country in the UK and work in a small room above a pub in Bath, which is possibly the nicest city in the world. I spend my days thinking about, learning about and writing about whatever is interesting to me, which is possibly the best job in the world.
When Julius Caesar crosses the Rubicon, civil war comes to the Roman Republic. Against the backdrop of this violent struggle, Aulus Veridius Scapula is forced to help finance Caesar's army. When his son is kidnapped, he has to leave the army and pursue the abductors all the way to the Bosporan Kingdom where Pharnaces, son of the now dead Great King Mithridates, rules. In a desperate bid to free his son, Aulus becomes embroiled in the little king's politics and succumbs to the charms of Dynasis, the beautiful daughter of the little king. When Pharnaces moves south with his army, Aulus must follow with revenge on his mind. A story of battle, love and intrigue interwoven with the end of the Roman Republic.
Excerpt
I ran at him and he braced himself for the impact. He had his legs apart and he raised his shield. All I had was my short sword and no armour. How could I hope to kill this man-mountain of muscle and flesh?
It was his very act of bracing himself against my perceived attack, helping me. He stood still. I had learned long ago how in battle, to stand still is to wait to die and this man was like that. I was ten feet from him when I vaulted. I was not as fit as I should have been and my left side lets me down at times since the injury in Armenia but this time I flew. I landed on my feet in front of him. He seemed surprised. He took half a step backwards.
I knew I had one fast thrust to make and then he would be upon me. I put my life on the line this time. If I missed he would strike. A single blow. My life depended upon accuracy, not force. In a second he would wield his axe. In a second he would have hewn me in half. My gladius flashed in the sunlight. Straight at his face. A man wearing a helmet of Greek design is sometimes immune to arrows or immune to spears but an accurate strike with a thin bladed weapon is as keen as a razor cut.
It’s a matter of focus.
My blade scraped the right horizontal eye slit of his helmet as it entered. It moved so fast I knew no God could have been faster. I drew my blade away. With inhuman speed, I stepped backwards to stand six feet from my opponent. He stumbled forward. He staggered to his left. He went down on one knee. He was strong.
With a crash he landed lying face down, his helmet came away as he crumpled and I watched as it rolled with a clinking sound across the yellow flagstones to rest at the feet of the little King. I stepped back and watched as the pool of blood spread towards my sandals. Redness spurted still from his eye-socket and I saw his limbs shake and shiver in his little dance of death.
[Want more? Click below to read a longer excerpt.]
Praise for the Book
"This first person narrative draws you into the story, helping you feel every emotion and experience every doubt that drives Scapula as he tries to do the best he can for his family while events unfold around him that he can’t escape. This is an excellent story that transports the reader into the time clearly and emotionally. Great descriptions and the depth of and differences between the characters make them quite real. Amulet IV is extremely well written, thoroughly engaging and quite informative whether you have read the previous volumes or not – which you will certainly want to do after enjoying this one." ~ Melinda Hills for Readers' Favorite Book Reviews
"... Amulet IV: Veni, Vidi, Vici is a well researched and immersive piece of historical fiction that any fan of the Roman Empire is certain to love." ~ K. C. Finn for Reader's Favorite Book Reviews
"Any reader who enjoys historical fiction, or just a great, adventurous read in general should absolutely pick up" ~ Tracey A Fischer for reader's Favorite Book Reviews
"Author of more than a dozen books, Fredrik Nath’s fervorous writing melds together the best of Kate Quinn and Ben Kane. Readers looking for a full plate of action, drama, historical context, and even a touch of romance need look no further than Amulet IV: Veni, Vidi, Vici’s robust storyline where characters come to life and one could easily assume were based on actual people alongside their non fictional historical counterparts - Caesar, Cicero, Mithridates, etc." ~ San Diego Book Review 2016
"If you’ve read any of Fred’s stuff, you’ll know he can tell a tale with the best of them, and this book kept me turning the pages from beginning to end. Amulet IV is a good read." ~ Simon Turney
Enter the world of Aulus Veridius Scapula, soldier, killer, husband, and father - and now a rich man after inheriting from his father in the previous book. Aulus lives with his pregnant wife Hypsicratea and stepsons, Quintos and Bazes, in their new villa in Ariminium. This volume centers on the adventures of Aulus in his attempt to rescue a kidnap victim close to his heart. His story is interwoven with a fictionalized account of Julius Caesar's fight for control of the Roman Empire.
From the beginning, our narrator Aulus Veridius Scapula assumes a familiar, conversational tone, as though he is telling his story to friends over a few drinks. His tale is told with humor and self-deprecation, and he is able to paint a picture with a few choice words. The narrative is full of descriptions of Roman dwellings, food, clothing, as well as fights and bloody battles. I was glad for the dictionary function in the Kindle app for further clarification of unfamiliar terms. Through his actions, Aulus reveals himself to be a man of integrity, kindness, sympathy, generosity, and loyalty, and you will find yourself rooting for him throughout the story. In a continuing motif throughout the series, Aulus recovers the amulet he discarded at the end of his last battle, and its return brings him bad luck. Aulus once again unloads the amulet at the end of this book, but I'm sure it will find its way back to him in the next volume. A nice touch: each chapter begins with a quote by a Roman personality, some who actually appear as characters in the book.
Reminiscent of Wilbur Smith's River God series in both scale and historical detail, this is a rollicking adventure that is sure to capture your attention and imagination.
About the Author
Fred Nath is a full time Neurosurgeon. He has worked and lived all over the UK from Liverpool to Aberdeen to Edinburgh and Glasgow, finally settling in Middlesbrough, jewel of the North-east! He lives with his daughter, his three sons having grown up and flown the coop.
In his time, he has run twenty-five consecutive Great North Run half-marathons, trekked to 6000m in Nepal, crossed the highest mountain pass in the world and began writing like John Buchan, "because he ran out of penny-novels to read and felt he should write his own." Fred loves a good story which is why he writes.
For years, Air Force Captain Jason Conrad flew and instructed in the supersonic T-38. Despite his decline into a self-destructive lifestyle, he was considered one of the best instructors on the base. Following a terrifying jet crash, Jason finds himself on a very short list of people on their way out the door. It is a surprise to everyone when he is assigned to the home of the U.S. Air Force Flight Test Center. Jason should have known that in a "one mistake Air Force" where you "do more with less", everything would not be what it appears. Attached to a secret project with a shadowy contractor, Jason is caught between two complications; an overbearing, retired general determined to see him fail; and an aggressive television reporter who wants him in prison. When a ghost from the past shows up and a beautiful, yet mysterious woman enters his life, Jason soon discovers his special project has more secrets than anyone knows about ... and it could cost him his life.
Book Video
Excerpt
Chapter 1
April 14, 2001
SHERRI DAVIS APPROACHED THE ENTRYWAY, already regretting her decision. After filling out paperwork and release forms for thirty minutes, she stood hidden behind the filthy curtain covering the doorway, the knot in her belly growing tighter. She pulled a small section of the worn fabric to the side. Colored lights blinked rapidly, and several spotlights locked on the mirrored ball above the stage, creating hundreds of dancing reflections around the large room.
“It doesn’t hurt, ya know,” a voice said over the loud music.
Turning her head, Sherri spied a girl in her late teens standing next to her.
“You look nervous. It’s your first time, isn’t it?” the girl said to Sherri.
“Yes,” she said, releasing the curtain and facing the woman. In the dark hallway, Sherri could barely make out the girl’s features, though her heavy eyelashes and straight black hair were clearly prominent. It was the young girl whose locker was next to hers.
“It’s not like sex. Doesn’t hurt the first time.”
Sherri nodded. “Got any advice?”
“Have fun sweetie, that’s my advice,” the girl said. “Go out there and relax. You’ll do fine.”
“Relax,” Sherri replied. “Right.”
“Honey, once those assholes start handing you twenties to sit on their lap, you’ll relax,” the girl said. “Now get on out there and bring home the bacon,” the girl said as she patted Sherri on the rear. Sherri noticed the pat was a little too soft and lingered a little too long before the girl retreated back down the hallway toward the stage entrance.
Sherri sighed heavily, her hands pressing the pleats of her skirt. She cupped her breasts for a quick adjustment and pulled her shoulders back. Her transition from the dark hallway to the work area was dramatic. The mist spewing from the smoke machine burned her eyes, and her ears pulsed each time the deep bass vibrated through the speakers. Her steps were short and deliberate, as if she had a choice in these five-inch stiletto heels. She gave up the security of the doorway, crossed her arms in front of her breasts and meandered between the tables, dodging a waitress carrying a tray full of beers.
The girl, nineteen at most, took the stage like a veteran and danced around the pole while a variety of wishful male suitors watched her every move. Sherri scanned the crowd. The darkness of the bar, the mist, and the flashing lights made it difficult to see anything in detail. The music made her head hurt. Unable to see the two men she was looking for, she began to worry she might be wasting her time.
“Hey, baby,” an overweight, drunk businessman said as he reached out and tried to grab her arm.
“Not tonight, sweetie,” Sherri replied, pulling away, never making eye contact. She gave the bald drunk the brush-off with her right hand. He shook his head and walked off toward another girl; alcohol making him more optimistic than he had a right to be.
While she looked the part—plaid miniskirt and a white button-down tied in front of her push-up bra—she realized she wasn’t acting the part. She sensed her movements through the bar were awkward. Relax. Standing in place, she tapped her foot to the music and rhythmically swayed her body. Sherri closed her eyes and started a slow, seductive dance in place. Her hips swayed like sea oats blowing in the ocean breeze. It didn’t take long before the men nearby stared at her instead of the stage, waving twenty dollar bills at her. Feeling more confident, she moved around the bar again. She had to work fast, as she was scheduled to make her stage debut in half an hour.
After a couple minutes meandering through the crowded bar and refusing three more requests for lap dances, she saw the first subject. He had come out of the men’s room and returned to a table located away from the stage. His name was Ahmed Alnami, a Saudi Arabian living in and moving around the United States. Now he was in Pensacola, sitting at a table with Saeed Alghamdi, his partner now getting a lap dance from one of the girls. Alnami sat at the table where he took a long swig of his beer and gave his partner a big smile. Weren’t these two supposed to be devout Muslims? Why were they here?
Sherri recognized her opportunity and approached the table. She leaned toward Alnami, her breasts at eye level, right in front of him. He stared in her eyes, looking fearful. Not the fear of danger. The innocent fear, like a teenage boy about to lose his virginity. “Hey, big boy,” she cooed, “are you lonely?” Alnami continued to stare, clearly unsure what to do.
Sherri smiled and pointed at her eyes. “Honey, you need to change your focus from here, to here,” she said as she moved her hands to her breasts. Alnami’s face beamed.
“Yes, please to
sit,” he said in broken English. Sherri sat on his lap. He was a small man;
Sherri was taller than he. No wonder he was smiling—a blond Amazon had landed
in his lap. She reached over and ran her hand through his hair. It was oily and
hadn’t been washed for a while. Wiping her hand on the back of his shirt, she
cringed, yet forced a weak smile. Alnami lunged his face forward and buried it
in her breasts. Sherri pushed him back. She wanted to punch him, but that would
undo all she’d accomplished.
“Settle down, big
boy, we need to get to know each other first.”
“This is what I want,” he said, pointing at his partner, whose lap dancer was grinding aggressively into him.
“Oh, you’ll get that and more,” she replied. “We’ve got to do some talking first.”
“What is this talking?” he said in a louder voice. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of bills. The smile faded and his eyes bulged. “I want boobies! I want the grind-a-grind!” The teenage innocence disappeared, and the self-absorbed arrogance of the immature adult surfaced. He started to push her off his lap. Sensing she was losing her opportunity, she grabbed his head and shoved his face back into her breasts.
“Better?” She pulled his face from her bosom, and the big smile had returned.
“Yes please.”
“Now, before I give you the grind-a-grind, we’ve got to get to know each other. What’s your name?”
“Ahm—” He paused. “Keevin. My name is Keevin.”
“Kevin? Okay, Kevin will work for now. My name is Bambi. What do you do, Kevin?”
“I do fine. Thank you, Bom-bi.”
Sherri cringed. This was painful. “What’s your job?”
“Oh, I train to be pilot.”
Interesting. She shifted herself on his lap and ran the fingers of her left hand along the buttons of his shirt. “Are you out at the Navy base?”
“Yes.” His eyes remained focused on her breasts.
“How long are you in town?”
“Two more weeks.”
Sherri thought for a moment. The two Saudis had already been in Pensacola for two weeks. Obviously, they weren’t students, and they weren’t flying with the Navy, but they were there to fly something.
“You must be really smart,” she said. “Not everybody gets to fly airplanes.”
“I am one of Allah’s warriors,” Alnami said, his voice rising. “Allahu Akbar.”
Sherri studied Alnami. “What is Allah having you do?” She bit her lower lip, realizing she might have pushed the conversation too far, too fast.
His eyes moved from her breasts back to her eyes. His nostrils flared as he bared his yellowing teeth. “No more talk of this!” Alnami shouted, unnoticed by the rest of the room. “I want grind-a-grind from you!” He pulled a fifty out of his pocket and waved it at her. Sherri sighed, realizing she would not get any more information unless she took it to the next level. That was not going to happen. She took the bill and stuck it in her bra.
She rose from his lap and posed in front of him, hands on her hips. He’s done talking. It’s time to get out of here. She slowly swayed back and forth, running her hands along the sides of her hips up to her breasts. The dancing must have been good, because she noticed his partner staring at her while still getting his lap dance.
Sherri leaned forward, nearly rubbing her breasts from his knees to his head, her body barely missing contact with his. She said in his ear, “How about you and me leave this place?”
Alnami’s smile grew bigger. “Yes, please!”
Pushing herself away from him, she moved behind his chair and ran hands down the front of his chest. “Okay, I’ve got to go clock out and change clothes. I’ll be back here in fifteen minutes. Don’t move.”
“I not move. Don’t change your clothes! You sexy momma!”
Sherri forced a weak smile. “Okay, baby. Whatever you want.”
She left the table and headed to the entryway with the dirty curtain.
She walked through the dark hallway, entered the dressing room, and pulled the door behind her, shielding her eyes from the steady light. As her eyes adjusted, she walked to her locker and gathered her things. Standing in front of one of the mirrors, she pulled off the blond wig, and her deep red hair fell to her shoulders. Pulling out a brush, she touched it up from where the wig had pressed it down or tangled it. She then grabbed her tan overcoat and slipped it over her shoulders. Retrieving her clothes from her locker, she knew making a quick exit was more important than comfort. A few of the other girls gazed at her with curiosity and envy.
“Sorry, ladies, I’m not cut out for this,” she said. She turned and walked out the back door of the strip club.
Reaching the exit, she glanced left and right as she walked out the door. The light by the back door was burned out, making the parking lot dark. She clutched her purse tightly and gripped the can of mace in her coat pocket as she walked to her rental car, a shiny new red Toyota Celica. She grabbed her keys and cell phone from her purse and climbed in. Kicking off the stiletto heels, she cranked the engine and pulled on to Highway 98, dialing on her cell phone as she drove.
The phone answered on the first ring. “Did you get it?” the voice asked.
“No, I didn’t get that far. Alnami was getting a little too friendly.”
“I told you this might happen. Did you find out anything?”
“They’re here two more weeks, and they’ll be flying next week, but I don’t know what and I don’t know why. Sorry, it’s the best I was willing to do under the circumstances.”
“Okay,” the voice replied. “Get back here tomorrow. I’ve got something else for you.”
“Like what?” She was more interested in getting some rest at this point.
“Our informant in New York wants to meet with you ASAP.”
“All right,” Sherri said begrudgingly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” As she hung up the phone, the car lurched forward. The phone slipped from her fingers, falling to the floorboard as her body slammed into her seat belt. She glanced in the rearview mirror as a car slid back and accelerated toward her again.
“What the hell?” she said, assessing the situation.
She put both hands on the wheel, and her foot pressed the accelerator as the car made contact with the red Celica a second time. As she reached the Pensacola Bay Bridge, the vehicle behind her changed lanes. She struggled as it maneuvered to strike her car in the left rear fender in an attempt to spin the car. She accelerated again, making the assailant miss his mark. Traffic was light this time of night, but there were enough vehicles to put between her and her attacker.
The mystery car pulled behind her, two car lengths back. She managed to accelerate away from it, but still had a good two miles to go on the bridge. Every time she passed a vehicle, the car followed her. Who the hell was attacking her? Could it be Alnami? No, she hadn’t been gone long enough. He would still be waiting for her inside the strip club, probably constructing ridiculous fantasies in his head.
It was a dark, starless night, and the rise in the bridge was a half mile away. This hump in the bridge allowed larger boats to enter and exit Pensacola Bay from the Gulf. Once on the other side, she would be in civilization again.
Vinyl and glass shards flew everywhere inside the vehicle as bullets pierced the back window of her car and hit the passenger side of the dashboard. She screamed and let go of the steering wheel, her foot coming off the gas for an instant.
“Holy shit!”
Her eyes darted back and forth as her car veered toward the rail to her right. Grabbing the steering wheel, she pressed the accelerator once again as she jerked her car away from the side rail.
“Oh, God,” she said, “why the hell are they shooting at me?”
She swerved to put another car between them, then pushed the accelerator to the floor. The innocent car she just passed bumped into the guardrail, sending sparks flying. It spun around as the assailant hit the car from the rear, then continued on. The dark sedan accelerated and closed the distance between them. She felt trapped as her Celica could not gain any more speed.
Another burst of machine-gun fire. Sherri screamed as the bullets struck the rear of her vehicle. At the bottom of the hump, she checked her rearview mirror. Shattered glass and bullet holes in the rear window were all she could see. There was no sign of the vehicle chasing her. Her heart raced as she hoped they’d stopped their pursuit. Based on the lights in the distance, she estimated she’d reach the end of the bridge in less than a minute.
With a quarter mile to go until she reached the end of the bridge, the car shuddered. Sherri’s gaze shifted to the front of her car, and her shoulders slumped. She beat her fist against the steering wheel as smoke rose from under the hood and the car started decelerating.
The speedometer read 80 mph at this point, but the car no longer responded to her foot pressing the accelerator. She pushed it all the way to the floor, but nothing. In her rearview mirror, she noticed the assailant closing in behind her. The car had closed within three car lengths when another round of bullets hit her vehicle.
Her heart raced as she reached the end of the bridge and the Celica slowed to 55 mph.
“Shit! If I break down on this bridge, I’m done,” she said as she pumped the accelerator. “Who the hell are these guys?”
The Celica slowed to 25 mph now, and other cars quickly caught and passed her.
Searching for her assailant in the mirror, she saw the dark-colored sedan make a U-turn at the end of the bridge and head toward Pensacola.
In front of her, red-and-blue lights danced on top of a parked car. Sherri had driven into a speed trap, and her assailants had turned and run.
“Yeah!” she shrieked. “Take that, asshole! You’d better run!”
A faint nervous smile eased across her face as she glided the unpowered vehicle into the right lane and onto the side of the road. The car came to a stop, and as soon as she put it in park, her body began shaking as the adrenaline faded. Leaning forward on the steering wheel, she started sobbing. She had almost been killed. A myriad of thoughts raced through her head as the police car pulled in behind her. The officer walked up and tapped on the window with his flashlight. Her finger pushed the button aft, lowering the window, and she covered her eyes as he shined the light in her face.
“Driver’s license and registration,” he said.
“No problem,” she replied. Automatically, she dug in her purse for her driver’s license. When she reached into the glove box for the rental agreement, she glanced in the passenger’s side mirror and saw the dark outline of the officer’s partner approaching the other side of her vehicle. You think he’d say something about the smoke coming from under the hood, she thought, or the blown-out back window.
She stopped digging and glanced back at the officer who spoke to her. Is he wearing jeans? With a quick glance back to the passenger-side mirror, she saw his partner approaching the vehicle was wearing—shorts? Wait, how could this guy not have noticed the bullet holes?
“Hey, what agency are you guys with?” she said as she turned back to the cop. Before she could react, he jammed a long stick through the window and pressed it into her neck. The electric shock was fast and intense, then—blackness.
[Want more? Click below to read a longer excerpt.]
Praise for the Book
"... a Firefox for a new generation. This is one thriller that fans of Cussler, Clancy, and Flynn will not want to miss." ~ James R. Hannibal, Author of the Nick Baron covertops series
"... hits all the right notes while establishing Lewis among the best in the genre ..." ~ Bella Wright, Bestthrillers.com
"... a riveting, timely story that will entertain and frighten you at the same time ..." ~ JosephBadal, Best-Selling Author of Death Ship (Danforth Saga #5)
"A smart, multi-layered thriller ..." ~ Tom Young, author of The Mullah's Storm, Silent Enemy, and Sand and Fire
"...a compelling military thriller ..." ~ Kevin Hurley, Author of Cut-Out
"... Lewis clearly demonstrates that he has the skills to compete with some of the top thriller and intrigue writers of today." ~ Anne-Marie Reynolds, Readers' Favorite
Guest Post by the Author
Navigating Through a Manuscript
I’m often asked if my background helped me write my books. As a pilot for the last twenty-seven years, with twenty-five of them in the U.S. Air Force and eighteen of those in Air Force Special Operations, the answer is yes. Of course it has. My career has given me the expertise and the insight to capture the essence of the environment I’m writing about. But my experience has also fashioned the way I write.
Twenty-four years ago, when I was a young instructor pilot in the T-38, I taught an academic class on Advanced Navigation. The course covered instrument procedures, jet airways, and low-level navigation. In all circumstances, the basic rules of navigation to keep oneself from getting lost always held true:
1. Know where you are
2. Know where you’re going
3. Know how to get there.
I’ve written two novels and a third is in progress. I use these three principles in writing as well. It’s #2 that differs in my writing process. Sure, it's similar, but it falls back on a key axiom of air power: Flexibility is the key to air power. Which is quickly followed by: Indecision is the key to flexibility.
Okay, so let’s look at writing. Generally, there are two types of writers: outliners and pantser’s. Outliners create an outline, a path for them to follow as they move forward through the book. Pantser’s write "by the seat of their pants". They tend not to have a plan, they follow where the story and characters take them. I’m an outliner. I like a plan. But I like a plan I can deviate from. In all three of my books (technically the third is not a book ... yet) I’ve followed the basic principles of navigation. In every case, I knew where I was and I knew where I was going. The fun part for me is figuring out how I’m going to get there.
Know where you are.
What’s the starting point? This is the most important part of the book. It has to be interesting, inviting, and intelligent. If the reader is not hooked by the first sentence, the first paragraph, the first page, the first scene, and the first chapter; you've lost the fight. In Veil of Deception, the opening chapter introduces us to one of the main characters right away. We see this character in a situation which is interesting, then we find out very quickly, she’s there for a totally different reason. But we don’t know what, yet. More importantly, this scene is tied in to the rest of the book and even more importantly, the end. When you start the book, know where you are. And why you are there.
Know where you’re going.
The end of a book is critical. If you’ve written the most incredible story and the end of the story after 300-400 pages has the reader going, "Meh", you’ve failed. A story must have a satisfactory ending. There’s a variety of different types of endings, and I won’t get into that here. Know where you are going.
Know how to get there.
To me, this is the fun part of the writing process. I mentioned earlier, I’m an outliner. I outline my story in as much detail as I can. But I give myself the freedom to deviate from the outline. Hence the first axiom of air power translates to writing as well: Flexibility is the key to air power…and writing. Often I get on a role and deviate from the outline. I become a temporary "pantser". Sometimes it really helps, sometimes, not so much. This is where the second axiom comes in: Indecision is the key to flexibility. Sometimes while "pantsing", I write myself into a corner. What do I do next? Can’t decide? Make a note to myself and get back to the outline. I know where I am and I know where I’m going. I’ve given myself the flexibility to deviate on the journey, but if I get stuck, I go back to my outline to get me back on course.
These are the primary rules for navigation ... and writing a novel. For me at least. The key is to keep moving forward. Some time back, I saw a video of Brad Thor at book signing. He was doing some Q & A when someone asked him a question - I can’t remember it exactly - it was about the best advice he’d been given or the most important thing he learned. But I’ll never forget his response. Brad said, "Allow yourself to write a bad first draft." That advice resonated with me. The most important thing was to finish; to arrive at your destination. These eight simple words helped push me through the three rules of navigation writing
About the Author
Michael Byars Lewis, is a former AC-130U "Spooky" Gunship Evaluator Pilot with 18 years in Air Force Special Operations Command. A 25-year Air Force pilot, he has flown special operations combat missions in Bosnia, Iraq, and Afghanistan. His first novel, Surly Bonds, won three awards—2013 Next Generation Indie Book Awards: Silver Medal Finalist 1st Novel (Over 80,000 words), 2013 Readers’ Favorites: Bronze Medal (Fiction-Intrigue), and the 2014 Beverly Hills Book Awards: Winner (Military Fiction). Michael has an extensive social media footprint on Facebook, Goodreads, Twitter, and Pinterest. Michael is currently a pilot for a major U.S. airline.
Giveaway
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