A warrior betrayed the c.., p.1
A Warrior Betrayed (The Carson Colt Thriller Series Book 2), page 1
A Warrior Betrayed
a novel
M.C. Thomas
Copyright © 2024 by M.C. Thomas
United States of America
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.
Print ISBN: 979-83-24253-37-0
Cover design by Bespoke Book Covers
1
Carson Colt was fully aware of the dozens of eyes and cameras on him. He’d been to the White House’s East Room before. Fourteen years ago, his father had been awarded the Medal of Honor for diving on a grenade and saving eight lives. Carson, who was thirteen at the time, remembered sitting in the first row of this very room and watching the president hand the posthumous medal to his mother.
This time it was his mother, Delia Colt, sitting in the first row. She was the strongest woman he knew. When his dad died, she’d worked full-time while raising him, but her optimistic disposition had never wavered. Her kind eyes, hiding behind a pair of glasses, welled up with tears as Carson sat in front of the vast gold curtain near the president’s podium.
Throughout Carson’s life, he’d met prominent politicians, military generals, and foreign leaders, so he was rarely one to get nervous or starstruck. But President Steven Whitlock had a presence about him that made Carson want to sit up straighter.
Whitlock was fifty years old and aging well despite the streaks of gray emerging in his charcoal-colored hair, no doubt from the pressures of running the highest office in the country. Like Carson, he was a Marine Corps veteran who stood over six feet tall and had broad shoulders.
Whitlock spoke into the microphone on the podium. “Last but not least, our final Presidential Medal of Freedom of the day goes to Carson Colt. His heroism as both a Marine Raider and a civilian cannot go unnoticed. His actions on the island of Ronilia saved lives and deterred a terrorist threat not just in the Caribbean, but here in the States. Not to mention, he’s a part of America’s favorite power couple.”
Members of the crowd and press chuckled. Carson’s cheeks grew warm. As Whitlock continued his speech, Carson glanced at Karina Nava, who sat next to his mother.
Karina winked at him, and her radiant smile melted away his nerves. Coral-red lipstick beautifully complimented her olive skin, and the emerald dress she wore pronounced her bright, hazel eyes. A year ago, she’d hired him onto her personal security team. Now, she was the love of his life.
Whitlock finished his speech and moved on to the presentation of medals. A Marine wearing Dress Whites handed Carson’s award to the president.
Carson approached the podium and gazed toward the front row where friends and family sat and smiled proudly. Whitlock put the medal around his neck, and applause filled the room. The president gave Carson a firm handshake.
Carson wasn’t self-conscious about his hands like he used to be. Multiple finger fragments had been blown off in battle around two years ago, but he’d finally come to terms with his prosthetics and had regained fine motor skills like typing, texting, and even using silverware.
The ceremony ended, and those invited by Whitlock convened in the State Dining Room, where several circular tables adorned with floral centerpieces were already prepared. A gilded chandelier hung from the ceiling, and a portrait of a ponderous Abraham Lincoln looked over the room.
Whitlock had asked Carson if he wanted to say a few words after dinner. The president really seemed to respect him, given his family’s legacy and the fact that he was a fellow Marine.
After dinner, Whitlock thanked everyone in attendance and handed the microphone off to Carson.
Carson cleared his throat. The sound echoed more than he expected. “Thank you, Mr. President.” His voice was deep with a light southern drawl. “This is a great honor. I also have a few more people I want to thank: Karina for being my rock, and the one who helped me get my confidence back after my medical discharge. Christine Devers, Ryan Beck, and Terrence Hall for always having my six and for showing me that even Army vets can be badass once in a while.”
He looked at his table and paused for laughter, most of which came from Ryan and Terrence. Christine grinned and subtly flipped him the bird. They all wore medals, too.
“I also want to thank Colonel Daniel Robinson for his wisdom and mentorship, Sergeant Kent Robinson for his friendship and inspiring perseverance, and Shoji Sasaki for bringing light to any dark situation.”
Carson glanced at his roommate and best friend Shoji, who nodded and did the “hang loose” sign with his hand.
Colonel Robinson and Kent couldn’t make it since they’d moved closer to Lana out in Florida. She was Kent’s mother and Colonel Robinson’s ex-wife.
Carson smiled and looked at his mother. “Mom, thank you for everything you’ve done for me. As a kid, I used to rely on Dad teaching me how to be strong.” He gripped the dangling medal. “But as the years went on, I realized how much of my bravery and strength comes from you.”
His mom put a hand over her heart and mouthed, “Thank you.”
Two more people to thank. Both posthumously. Carson paused to take a deep breath.
Hold it together.
“Lastly, I want to thank Colonel Tom Colt and Sergeant Jane Armstrong. Two Marines who sacrificed their lives. One saved eight lives.” He took another deep, shaky breath. There was more he’d planned on saying, but he didn’t want to get emotional. “And another saved mine. Thank you all.”
Everyone rose in ovation. Carson handed off the mic and headed back to his table.
Karina was the first one to greet him. She stood, tugged on his tie, got on her tiptoes, and kissed him. “You looked great up there.”
“Thank you.” Carson gazed into her striking eyes as they sat. Her soft curves and cherry blossom perfume had him in a trance. “But I could never look as good as you.”
Shoji pointed toward Carson’s mouth. “She pulls off lipstick better than you. There’s some residue on your mouth.”
Carson rolled his eyes and used the back of his hand to wipe his lips. “Thanks, Sho.”
“That was beautiful,” his mom said. She rested her palm over the medal on Carson’s chest. “I wish your father could see this.”
“Me too,” Carson said.
She turned to Karina. “And it’s been such a pleasure meeting you. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen Carson so happy.”
Karina blushed and smiled. “He’s had the same effect on me.”
His mom rubbed his shoulder. “I should have known he’d end up with a singer. He had the biggest crush on Carrie Underwood when he was a kid.”
Carson shook his head, and his cheeks grew warm. “They don’t need to know about that, Mom.”
Karina folded her arms and chuckled. “I absolutely needed to know that. Next time I see Carrie, I’ll tell her you said hi.”
“Hey, we all had our crushes growing up,” Christine said. “Mine was Jamie Foxx.”
Ryan lifted a finger. “Mandy Moore.”
“Whitney Houston,” Terrence said.
“See?” his mom said. “Your friends get it. And I know you’ve missed being embarrassed by your mother.”
Carson had been trying to play it cool in front of Karina, but he broke into a smile. “You’re right. I have.” He couldn’t help but think of his childhood in Cumming, Georgia. Ever since high school graduation, his life was either in the Marines or in Atlanta. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to slow down.
The evening wrapped up and everyone prepared to leave. Whitlock approached the group, along with Vice President Paul Boone.
“Mr. President,” Carson said.
“It’s been an honor having you all here,” Whitlock said. “Before you all head out, I wanted to introduce you to Vice President Boone. Paul?”
Boone gave them a nod. Not a strand of his silver hair was out of place. He was in his mid-fifties and not much taller than Karina. “Nice to meet you all.” With piercing blue eyes, he fixed his gaze on Carson. “Last year, you went through a lot. There’s still plenty to unpack from that whole situation.”
“That whole situation” meaning their trip to Ronilia last year. The island’s president, Antonio Statem, had deceived them into believing that he was Karina’s father. Thanks to a Panama-based cartel called Mentis, Statem had access to a mental manipulation drug originally developed by the late Tate Tanis, Karina’s actual father. Statem had tried using the drug on Karina, but Carson shot and killed him. Statem’s sister, Naomi, took over as the president of Ronilia.
Carson imagined the U.S. government had been closely investigating the Ronilian government. Naomi Statem had helped him stop her brother, but she was still far from innocent.
“We could use your expertise,” Boone said. “I understand that you tried for months to get back into the Marines. We can make you a consultant for the Department of Defense or the CIA.”
Carson raised his eyebrows. After his medical discharge from the Marines, all he’d ever wanted was to get back into action. To be remembered like his dad. And yet, for the first time in his li
He turned back toward Boone. “Thank you, sir. But I’m not sure yet.”
Boone narrowed his eyes.
Carson had a hard time reading the vice president’s expression. “I appreciate the offer,” Carson quickly added. “But I feel like I’m finally in a good place in my life right now. I don’t want to rush into a big decision too quickly.”
“I hope you realize what a great opportunity this is.” Boone’s eyes didn’t waver.
“I’m sure he does,” Whitlock said, shooting his VP a look. He turned to Carson. “You’re invited to my campaign rally for Senator Perry in Atlanta next month, so you can give me your answer then.” Whitlock gave the group a warm, presidential smile. “It was nice meeting you all.”
Whitlock and Boone walked away, and Carson felt everyone’s eyes on him. The VP had given Carson a lot to think about. Happy as he was with his current life, he couldn’t dismiss the idea of serving his country, especially given his major respect for President Whitlock.
Shoji broke the long silence. “So?”
“You heard the man,” Christine told Shoji. “Give him some space to think about it.”
“I’m his roommate, giving him space is hard for me.”
Karina wrapped her warm, delicate hands around Carson’s palm. “Just know that I don’t ever want to stop you from following an opportunity like that.”
“But it would be hard to leave you,” Carson said.
Karina chuckled. “You’d only be resigning as my bodyguard. Not as my boyfriend.”
“I’ll think about it.” He squeezed her hand and embraced her. “For now, I want to enjoy everything I have.”
As he held onto Karina, Carson imagined immersing himself into the bliss and ease of civilian life. The Marine Corps had forced him to grow up quickly, and he’d shed a sea of blood, sweat, and tears for his country. He’d earned a taste of the easy life.
But the world was becoming more dangerous. The threat of the Tanis drug still loomed, and Whitlock’s administration was almost certainly working toward containing it. Keeping it out of the wrong hands was vital, and Carson knew that he could help prevent that.
I’ve got a lot to think about.
2
Paul Boone sat in one of the leather chairs around the Situation Room table. He was surrounded by advisors, security personnel, Secretary of State Donna Ratcliff, Director of National Intelligence Reina Watanabe, and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Robert Brock of the U.S. Air Force. Laptops and folders were immaculately organized in front of everyone. They waited on President Whitlock.
The presidential seal hung on the wall behind the head seat of the table. Before becoming the vice president, Paul had been a U.S. Senator in Ohio for twelve years but reached a point of feeling stagnant in his political career. Sure, being a U.S. Senator was a big deal, but when Whitlock had asked Boone to be his running mate six years ago, he couldn’t say no.
Paul glanced around the room. He hoped this would be a productive meeting. Ever since the U.S. government first learned about the Tanis drug last year, there had been little progress toward gaining control of it from the Ronilians. Boone fully intended on earning the presidency for himself, but for now, he needed his current boss to take care of business.
President Whitlock entered the room, prompting everyone to stand. General Brock saluted.
Whitlock returned the salute. “At ease. You can all have a seat.” He sat at the head of the table. His posture was perfect, and his voice commanding. The president exuded the kind of poise that many men envied.
Having worked under Whitlock for six years now, Boone could see why the man was so popular with the American people. Whitlock currently had a sixty-five percent approval rating, which was extremely high given how divided the political landscape was these days.
“First things first, let’s address Ronilia.” Whitlock motioned to the general.
General Brock nodded. Short but powerful, he was built like a bulldog. “Yes, Mr. President. We’ve continued gathering intelligence throughout the island. Remnants of Mentis have been discovered in Panama and Ronilia, but their numbers are at a fraction of what they were this time last year. Naomi Statem has been effective in cleaning up her brother’s messes.”
Paul clenched his jaw, irritated that Brock would give that woman even the slightest bit of credit. Like her brother Antonio, she had blood on her hands, and she needed to be kicked off her pedestal.
“Any new intelligence regarding the Tanis drug?” Whitlock asked.
“From what we know, Naomi Statem still has Dr. Clarke detained,” Watanabe said. She was forty years old and had jet-black hair that fell evenly to her shoulders. “We haven’t found any evidence of experimentation with the Tanis drug since Antonio Statem’s death.”
In the wrong hands, the Tanis drug had unsettling potential regarding human experimentation. From what U.S. intelligence had been able to gather, it was an injection that supplemented optogenetics, a light-based process that could manipulate neurons in the brain. Dr. Tanis and Dr. Clarke had decades worth of research on these topics, and as of right now, Naomi Statem was the only person in the world with access to it.
She wouldn’t lock away all that research and forget about it.
Paul held his tongue.
“And the CDC is still looking into the sample discovered by Carson Colt, correct?” Whitlock asked.
“Yes, Mr. President,” said one of the advisors.
Carson Colt. Paul wished the man would come to his senses and join them rather than follow Karina Nava around. Colt probably had insight into the Statem family that no one else in this room would. Not to mention, knowledge and experience of the island’s southern jungles that nobody in the DoD or the CIA had.
Paul couldn’t keep silent anymore. “Why are we waiting on the CDC to research a small sample when Ronilia has an entire lab dedicated to creating the drug?” He felt every eye in the room on him. “We need control of their research as soon as possible.”
“The Ronilian government won’t entertain that discussion with us,” Secretary Ratcliff said. She was in her sixties and had locks of red hair with streaks of gray throughout.
“It’s not up to them.” The muscles in Paul’s jaw tensed. It seemed like he was the only one who refused to defend the Ronilian government. He leaned forward and folded his hands on the table. “Are we forgetting about the fact that they came into our country and stole chemicals from Johns Hopkins to create the Tanis drug in the first place?”
“By ‘they,’ I assume you mean Mentis.” Ratcliff narrowed her eyes. “There’s no proof that Naomi Statem had anything to do with that.”
“But her brother did. And now we’re okay with her having possession of a mental manipulation drug? The citizens of Ronilia have started to form a rebellion over the past year, and we have the resources to liberate them from that family of dictators.” Boone raised his voice and held his stare on Ratcliff. “Naomi Statem’s brother was corrupt, and she spent years covering up his crimes. If they can come into our country and take what they want, then why can’t we do the same? Send some troops, a covert paramilitary team, anything. We need to—”
“Are you suggesting that we invade a sovereign nation?” Ratcliff interjected.
“Don’t cut me off, dammit!”
“Reign it in, Paul,” Whitlock said.
Paul turned his attention to the Commander-in-Chief. “Mr. President, all due respect, but when do we take real action against Ronilia? We have the capability to extract what we need from them right now, so what are we waiting for?”
“Make no mistake, we have been taking action,” Whitlock said. “This is a delicate process and one where we can’t rush in with guns blazing. Our foreign intelligence is tirelessly doing research and communicating with Ronilian insiders.”
“But that takes time. Meanwhile, China or Russia could find out about the Tanis drug. Hell, Naomi Statem might even be willing to sell the research to these other countries. We need to strike before that happens.”
“Invading Ronilia and taking everything by force is exactly what would get unwanted attention from China and Russia,” the president said. “We’ve been discussing possible covert missions for the CIA, but that also takes time. Rushing into a mission and allowing our people to be compromised is not an option. We need to be quiet and tactful about this.”
