No one asks where we’re going. It’s safe to assume we’ll be doing some kind of team-building exercise. It’s standard procedure when we get a new teammate. We all head for the basement, where we each have a locker to stash a few days’ worth of belongings in. I have a go bag at headquarters, one in the car, and one at home, so I’ll always be prepared to leave for an op at the drop of a hat.
“Where do we think we’re going? Airfield? The ranch?” Atlas asks.
There are guesses all round, but there’s only one logical answer.
“Ranch for sure. Team-bonding exercises and weapons and fitness training to see where our rookie is at.”
“What’s the new guy like?” Angel asks me.
The truth is, I have no idea anymore. “How would I know? I haven’t seen him in ten years.”
I grab my bag and turn around, but everyone’s waiting for more.
“He’s a dick.” Sort of. “Or, he used to be. He’s all gloaty, and because he does everything well, he thinks he’s the best. Do you know how annoying it is to be around someone so cocky and conceited and—”
Nearly everyone, in unison, looks at me as if to say, “Why, yes, yes we do know that feeling, Iris. Please, do go on.”
“Oh, fuck all y’all.” I make my way back upstairs.
We all file outside and wait to be told where we’re going.
Trav’s Hummer pulls around the side of the building from where it’s usually parked in the garage at the back of the property, and he stops in front of us with Saint already in the passenger seat.
Trav lowers his window. “Meet us at the ranch.”
I jump in the back seat of his car before he can take off.
“You got a problem with driving yourself there?” Trav asks.
“Whose pretty face am I going to look at if I go by myself?” I blink innocently at them.
Saint cracks a smile.
“I ain’t fucking pretty,” Trav grumbles.
“Sure you aren’t, big guy. You’re not a giant teddy bear or nothin’.”
“Do you mind not undermining me in front of the rookie?”
“Hmm, nah, that doesn’t sound fun.”
Trav leads the fold as the others climb into their cars, some sharing, some on their own. At least with us on the road first, it will mean we should get to the ranch before the others and I can secure a bedroom. I don’t care if I have to share, so long as I’m not in a tent outside.
The ranch is a massive six-bedroom mansion in Palm Desert, and it often feels like a whole other world. It’s on acres of land in the middle of nowhere, and Trav has a shooting range on-site and an explosives training area, and he recently added an obstacle course.
It was originally built as his vacation home and a safe house. If he was ever to write out a list of his priorities, it would probably go guns, explosives, exercise. In that order.
The drive is quiet, something I’m not used to, and every time one of the others passes us in their car, I throw my head back in frustration.
When I look over at Trav, the fucker’s smiling, and that’s when I realize he’s doing it on purpose.
“You’re punishing me for hitching a ride?” I ask. “That’s what’s happening here? You’re going to make me end up sleeping in a tent.”
“I would never do such a thing,” Trav says. “I’m doing the speed limit.”
I lean forward in my seat to look at the speedometer. “Liar!”
Trav, in his attempt to ignore me, asks Saint a million questions, but they’re all surface level and things I remember.
He’s career military, from a military family, and had been training to enlist since he was a kid. It’s why he got to basic and wasn’t a fumbling idiot like the rest of us.
Unsurprisingly, by the time Trav takes his sweet-ass time getting to the ranch, everyone is already inside, bedrooms claimed, and that puts Saint and me outside.
The area we set the tents up in is by the outdoor bonfire. Trav has the works. It’s more like glamping than camping, but nothing beats being inside in an actual bed. The cots are fine. They’re comfortable. But is a mattress too much to ask for?
There’s a bathroom off the side of the house near the pool, so we don’t have to trek through the mansion if we need it.
The rolling desert hills serve as a backdrop as we grab the supplies and set up camp.
I focus on my own tent and ignore Saint doing the same next to me even though I can feel his intense gaze on me more than once. It’s the same intense gaze he gave me back then—one that said, “Why are you here when you’re such a mess?” Though, this time there’s a side of “I can’t believe it was you who saved my life.”