Free Blind Rage: Team Red, Book 4 by T Hammond Page A

the smell of the toilets, the bleach or ammonia products would bring me to my knees, for sure.”
     
    “He’s the only sailor I know who gets sea sick,” Bas laughed good-naturedly. “Why did a farm boy from land-locked Kansas join the Navy, anyway?”
     
    “My gran’pa was in the service; a naval officer. When I made a decision to join the military, the Navy was the branch I was most interested in. I figured the nice, clean scent of the ocean would be just the thing to settle my nervous stomach, right? I’d never been on a boat before, let alone a ship. Imagine my surprise during basic training when I realized I got seasick, too. I ralphed all over the guys in my boat, and a call name was born.”
     
    “So, does everyone have a nickname? What’s yours?” I directed over my shoulder. “Bas-hole?”
     
    “Har, har, Babe,” Bastian growled, pretending offense. “All of us have a name given to us by our team members. Some are flattering, and some… well, not so much. Right Ralph?”
     
    “You’re avoiding telling me yours, aren’t you?” I grinned, guessing the reason. “It’s Man-ho, right?”
     
    There were chuckles from the Mustangs in the kitchen, so I was pretty sure I was on the right track. One of the guys mumbled, “Damn, wish we’d thought of that one.”
     
    “I kinda like Bas-hole, myself,” another guy, Kirsch I think, added.
     
    “My name is almost twenty years old, Babe. Keep that in mind, huh?”
     
    I grinned in anticipation. I do believe Bastian was embarrassed. It was kind of sweet.
     
    “Oh, for goodness sakes,” Gwyn sighed, exasperated. “It’s not that bad, Teresa. His name was ‘Player.’”
     
    “Ahh,” I said wisely. “Since I know you hate board games, it’s no doubt a tribute to the swath you cut through the female population.”
     
    “Those days are behind me, Babe. Unfortunately, the nickname will stick with some of my old team members. Many of Russ’ crew never worked on a mission with me, so they refer to me as Bas or Dec. The guys here, who know my old call name, haven’t used it out of respect for you. No doubt, they’ll assign a new one to me, eventually.”
     
    There was a loud “whoosh” as Red and Tank barreled through the dog door flap. “Teresa! I heard one of the soldiers say it’s going to snow again starting tomorrow night. Woo hoo! I looooove the snow! Maybe the Mustangs can build a snow fort and make snowballs for us to chase.”
     
    “Hey Top Dog, where’s the fire?” Russ asked as the two dogs skid to a halt on the kitchen floor. One, or both of them, attacking the water dish with unbridled enthusiasm.
     
    “He likes Top Dog,” I shared, grinning at the dogs’ exuberance. “Red’s excited about the snow forecast. He has high hopes for a snow fort and a rousing game of fetch with snow balls. Speaking of special names, do you guys have one for me too?”
     
    Okay, the silence was enough to give me a complex. Seriously? “Gwyn?” I asked, hoping female solidarity would encourage her to tell me.
     
    “Nope. I’m staying out of this one,” she said. The tapping of her heels became muffled as she wandered off to toward the living room. The echoing click of tiny nails, suggested she was being followed by an inquisitive Tank.
     
    “They call you ‘Mole,’” Red volunteered helpfully.
     
    “I’m named after a skin blemish?” I’ll admit, I was somewhat affronted. “You guys couldn’t come up with a really cool name, like…” I had to pause, making up your own name without being conceited is tough. When you back yourself into a corner, rely on outrageousness. “…like hot mama, or siren? Oh, I know—goddess.” There were snorts and snickers from the gathering around me. “Yeah, okay, I admit it’s not easy to come up with a good call name, but really? Mole was the best you guys could do?”
     
    Bas’ chuckle was warm in my ear. “It’s not a bad thing, Teresa. There are multiple meanings, and you