The team around me snickers because half of them have never even heard my first name. Still, the young guy at least knows protocol at the site, and he doesn’t address me by rank. “DB, please.”
“DB, good morning. You needed to speak with an engineer?”
“You’re Dr. Bash?”
“Last time I checked my driver’s license," he says, his accent pure country, despite his Viking good looks. I haven’t been made aware of which team he’s with, only that he’s an electrical engineer and a damn fine operator. I was in no way prepared for meeting him in person.
He has a non-regulation beard and non-regulation, shoulder-length, wheat-blond hair, and he’s damn near the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. This crew at a black site outside of Mosul doesn’t give a shit about sexuality and most know that I’m gay. They also know that any sexual advances will be shot down with extreme prejudice.
I don’t pretend that I’m even remotely successful at preventing fraternization among the various crew members, but I hold myself to a high standard and make sure that everyone under my command knows it. Talk about being hoisted by my own petard; this man’s gentle smile is melting my frozen insides and making me wonder if he wants kids or travel or both.
Whoa.
“DB?” he asks expectantly.
I snap to attention, shaking the vision from my head, remembering my mentor’s words: that way lay destruction. Or at least destructive consequences. And no, I’ve worked too hard to get where I am for some blond, probably-straight guy to take me off course.
Thus fortified, I look back into his eyes, which crinkle at the edges when he smiles. He drags his teeth along his lower lip, looking at me with a slight head tilt as his eyes track down my body, clad in tactical gear. Okay, maybe not straight.
“I, um…we confiscated an odd explosive device that can be carried in pieces and then clicked together at the last minute. Needed to see if someone could reverse engineer it.”
“Aww, an explosive device named after me?”
“Huh?” I ask, thrown by his cheeky smile.
“First name’s Odd, you said odd explosive device…oh, never mind. I suppose the joke doesn’t work if you have to explain it.”
“Wait, your first name…your given name is Odd?”
“Yep. My parents are Norwegian. It’s a common name in Norway.”
“That explains the Viking…” I say, gesturing at him while my words trail off.
Damn, his eyes are really fucking blue.
“So, DB…the device?” He steps in a little closer, a teasing smile playing across his lips.
I absentmindedly hand him the device and he takes it, along with a pen from my front pocket. Grabbing a sticky note from a nearby desk, he writes down a number. “Here, feel free to call me if you run into any other odd devices. Or even if you don’t.”
* * *
I blink a few times, re-focusing on the highway as I hit the construction zone that is Waco. I glance at my wallet in the cup holder. Neatly folded and tucked behind the only picture of my mother is his sticky note, his name and number written in precise, compact block letters.
Yeah, stepping away is for the best.
5
Odd
Thane called an all-hands team meeting this morning, and DeShaun will be joining us. I miss him, but I don’t want to be anywhere near him. Not gonna lie, I considered developing explosive diarrhea just to get out of going, but I’m an adult who can handle his shit.
Now that Anders has officially moved into Omar’s place, I make my way in from Wimberley alone. We gather around the interactive table and even Jake is here in person today. As usual, he’s stylishly dressed in all black, this time with buckled harem pants, a tight, black sleeveless belly shirt, and a dark-gray chunky knitted stole-wrap-thing, giving him a slightly post-apocalyptic librarian look that only he can pull off.
Pulling up a flow chart, he begins to explain the research he and Ronan have been doing to find out where the Marshals’ data is getting corrupted, an ongoing problem we’ve been battling for the last several months.
“As you can see, it’s incredibly difficult to trace the breach. A lot of this is a wild goose chase, layers upon layers of obfuscation. I feel like I’m close, but not there yet.”
“So you still don’t know who it is?” Rafi asks, leaning forward.
