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There was a very good reason that Buck didn’t talk about the reason he left the United States for Peru after his stint in the Navy.
It wasn’t because he was ashamed of his service, even if he did wash out of SEAL training. He served his full obligation with the Navy, choosing to attempt SEAL training at the end of his first tour. When he realized that being a SEAL wasn’t for him, it was right around the time he needed to make the decision to sign up for another tour or move into the reserves. He chose the latter.
It wasn’t because he was running from his past. He wasn’t. He barely thought of Pennsylvania once he signed on the dotted lines and traveled to basic training. Most of his travels were post cards he’d collected from his squad that he sent to his sister with made up stories so that she didn’t worry, especially when he was outside the country.
It wasn’t even because he didn’t know what to do with himself. He had a plan when he went to Peru, which was to deliver a letter from one of his squad to their grandmother, as they wouldn’t be able to ever make that trip again. Only after handing it over and helping the family grieve did he decide to pick up bartending for a bit and make his next plan.
No, he left the States for one very major reason, one he hated talking about, but one that came right back as soon as he saw Phillip Buckley for the first time since he left Pennsylvania so long ago.
His separation was made official at NAS Corpus Christi about a month after stepping away from his attempt with the SEALs. From there, he was planning on taking a few days to acclimate to civilian life before making his way to Peru as requested.
Evan had been walking down the street from the hotel he’d been keeping as his temporary home when he’d been jumped. Two men grabbed him and dragged him down an alleyway, where a third waited. All three were masked, something out of a b-movie he’d watched while on leave.
The two holding him up held tight, twisting both of his arms in such a way that he couldn’t begin to break free without injuring himself. He gave a quick tug to at least show he wasn’t going to cooperate.
From behind, another hand shot forward, holding a knife tight to his throat.
Almost immediately, Evan tried to still his body. The sharp edge was already nicking at his skin, with the scent of blood overtaking the smell of garbage from the alleyway in his nose.
“You’re a hard man to find, young Mr. Buckley,” the masked man in front of him drawled. It wasn’t a Texas drawl, but simply a lazy northern tone, sounding almost bored with whatever might be coming next.
The knife eased away, silently giving the order to answer. He was tempted to keep his mouth shut, but at the same time, getting killed in an alleyway in Texas wasn’t exactly the way he wanted to die. “What do you want with me?” he demanded, locking eyes with the dark ones peering through the mask.
“In truth, nothing. You are merely a pawn in this unfortunate game.” While a small part of his mind was mulling over the overly flowery word choice, the rest was making connections to what wasn’t being said. He wasn’t the true target. He was collateral. But who-
He didn’t have to think any further.
“If Philip Buckley is wrapped up in something, I’m not involved. I haven’t seen him in years,” Evan tried to reason. It was the truth, after all. After that final fight, after fleeing the house and taking the Jeep and driving away, he hadn’t spoken to his parents again. All of his paperwork with the Navy listed Maddie as his beneficiary, with his parents to not be notified.
“We know,” the person holding the knife whispered in his ear. “He has two weeks to pay back what is owed. Otherwise, you’ll be paying him a very final visit.”
The knife cut a bit deeper, just for a split second. Then the two goons holding him let go at the same time and shoved him forward. He stumbled, fell to his knees, regained his balance.
He was alone.
Evan Buckley was on a flight to Peru less than twenty four hours later.