It’s our bodycam footage, all faces blurred. It shows Atlas and Zeus firing into the hole where Farouk was hiding and then cuts to the president “watching on in real time.”
“They’re stealing our thunder?” I ask. “Fucking SEALs.”
“Hey,” a weak protest comes from Atlas.
Trav shrugs. “It’s better this way. Let them take the fall and have the targets on their heads. But, in saying that, we’re currently being housed in the only US military base in all of Udoola. So in that respect, it’s probably the most dangerous place we could be. Which is why we need to make a decision. Do we take Iris home with us tonight, or do we leave him and a small team here in Darbardeh somewhere out of the way?”
“I want to go home,” I say.
At the same time, Saint says, “We’ll stay.”
Our heads swivel to look at each other.
“Are you crazy?” Saint asks. “I’ve just accepted that I’m not going to lose you, and you want to go and put your life in danger again?”
I throw his own words back at him. “Have you met me?”
“I really think we should stay,” Saint says.
“I want to go home. I want a real bed. I want to celebrate being alive the best way I know how. Being naked with my man.”
Everyone else in the room groans.
“We really need some team rules if we’re suddenly allowed to start dating each other,” Scout says.
“Shh.” Zeus shoves him. “Don’t give Trav ideas. We’re finally allowed to fuck—”
“No fucking,” Trav says. “The rules haven’t changed. Iris and Saint’s relationship extended outside this team, previous to their employment with Mike Bravo.”
I don’t know if wanting each other while getting under each other’s skin really counts, but I’m not going to argue with the man.
Zeus rubs his chin. “So, you’re saying Scout and I could, theoretically, hook up because we knew each other when we were in the Marines?”
Trav goes to open his mouth, but Scout beats him to it.
“I love you, but I also know where you’ve been, and there’s not enough penicillin in the world.”
“Keep it that way,” Trav orders.
I turn to Saint. “Take me home?”
“Fine,” he relents. “Let’s go home.”
Recovery is boring. There’s no other way to put it. I don’t know how Saint did this for months. It’s only been a few weeks, and I’m ready to get back out there. My leg, on the other hand, has other ideas.
I’m still on crutches, and getting around isn’t the easiest. My stitches have healed, but they’ve left an angry red scar to add to the list of others I have. I’ve got nothing on Saint’s body, though.
He’s still self-conscious of it but not so much at home. He’ll walk around shirtless, which is both hot and annoying. Because of my leg, the bedroom activity has been reduced to gentle blowjobs and handjobs.
Getting shot? Do not recommend.
The other thing I don’t recommend? Allowing your boyfriend’s old teammate to stay with you while they’re also recuperating from a traumatic experience.
Tanner Parsons is a good guy from what I can tell, but I can see why Saint and he get along so well together. Everything is a competition.
If I take painkillers for my leg, he’ll state how he’s doing his recovery drug-free. I would make the argument he wasn’t shot if it wasn’t so insensitive to what he actually endured.
The Iris from ten years ago would’ve tried to prove I was the tougher man, but since working for Mike Bravo, all that toxic male energy seems pointless.
So I ignore Parsons as he sits across from me in my living room and cocks an eyebrow when I reach for my meds and throw two in my mouth.
“Have you heard from GenNex yet?” I ask.
“Not yet. I’m not expecting to. From what I understand of Saint—as you call him—and his situation, they pretended he never existed.”
“I think my boss had a lot to do with that.”
“Honestly, I don’t even know if I want to go back. After everything I went through, having the country I served—the whole reason I was in Udoola in the first place—turn its back on me doesn’t exactly fill me with patriotism. I’ll probably have to report back, though. I still had a few years to go.”
“Trav could probably get you out of it. Give you some connections or even recruit you like he did for Saint.”
He holds up his hand. “It’s my mess. I’ll deal with it. Besides, I don’t think I’ve met the sex with men quota to qualify for Mike Bravo.”
I chuckle. “There is no quota. You’re supportive of Saint, aren’t you? That’s the only requirement to join. Trav started Mike Bravo so we wouldn’t have the instinct to watch our backs with our own teammates. Saint says we can trust you, so we trust you.”
“Mm, I’ll think about it.”