“You’re quieter than I remember,” he says.
I grunt in reply instead of answering.
“I remember a time when you wouldn’t shut up.”
“I’m waiting,” I say.
“For?”
“All of the praise and thanks for saving your life. I’m pretty sure this means you’re in my debt forever.”
“There’s the guy I remember.”
“I’m thinking foot rubs, fetching me a beer whenever I ask …” I’m totally messing with him. In this line of work, no matter what, you have one another’s backs. There’s no keeping score. But still, I’m totally going to milk this while I can.
“How about I don’t kick your ass at training this week?”
I huff. “You think you could still beat me after what your body has gone through the last few months?”
“Baby, I could beat you in my sleep.”
I laugh. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun. Especially considering you can’t even figure out how that tent goes together. Good luck with it.”
I put the last pole on mine in place and clap Saint’s shoulder as I head inside. Everyone’s already lounging in the bar. Like at headquarters, Trav has his own playroom set up, and that sounds way kinkier than it is. There’s a pool table, poker table, and a fully stocked bar. In another room, he has the biggest TV anyone’s ever seen. Trav makes us work hard, but he lets us play even harder.
“I take it we don’t actually have any training ops for the rest of the day?” I nod at the beer in Zeus’s hand.
“Nope. We’re supposed to be bonding with the new guy over beers and pool. Where is he?”
I grab my own drink. “Still setting up his tent.”
“You left him out there?” Angel asks.
“What, like he can’t be left alone? I’m not a babysitter. Who’s up for a game of pool, and who wants to make it interesting?”
“What are the stakes?” Zeus asks.
I pick up one of the balls from the pool table and toss it in my hand. “Whoever wins gets to choose the new guy’s code name.”
A round of “Ooohs” breaks out, and suddenly, we have a hell of a lot more players. And I already have the perfect name picked out for when I win.
Chapter Four
Saint
What am I doing here? No, really. I’ve set up how many tents in my lifetime? Yet, I can’t seem to connect the dots. The poles aren’t lining up, and I know I’m doing something wrong, but I can’t tell what. My hands aren’t connected to my brain, and I’m doing everything at half speed.
My recovery has been long, and the last few months have been a constant struggle to do the most mundane things. I don’t think it’s a physical problem but a mental one. My memories are still hazy, and my brain is jumbly, but I was told that was normal after what I went through.
I was the one to push Trav into bringing me on—that I was ready. Now I’m doubting that decision. I’m so desperate to get back in the game that I’m ignoring the red flags that indicate I’m not up to the task.
Iris finished building his and disappeared a while ago, but even if he were out here, no way in hell would I be asking for help. I’m actually glad he mocked me for it and left me to work it out myself.
I can’t give up this opportunity. Trav put me through rehab and got me back on my feet, and in the months while trying to get my strength up, I did some recon of my own and found out the truth about his team.
Mike Bravo.
Travis West was a decorated and respected Ranger. Everything I could find on him said he left to start up his own “security company” in the private sector. Everything official makes him sound like he started a rent-a-cop situation that looks after the security for malls or building complexes. I had to dig deeper than that.
An old friend and contact at GenNex told me Travis West is the most powerful man outside of the military. When there’s too much red tape for the government to get around, Mike Bravo gets it done. It’s why he has such high security clearance for someone who doesn’t actually work for the government.
At GenNex, we ran black ops, but Mike Bravo … they take it to the next level. If we’d succeeded in taking out Farouk, it would’ve been all over the TV and social media. My squad and I would be national fucking heroes. We wouldn’t be named publicly, of course, but we would’ve been revered. Instead, all of them are dead, and the government sent Mike Bravo to clean up the mess.
I’m part of that mess.
I don’t exactly buy into the medical discharge crap Trav tried to feed me. It wouldn’t surprise me if they got rid of me to cover it all up. I can imagine the paperwork with black pages of redacted information. Or hell, maybe there’s no paper trail at all.