“Hell, they’ve already proven it,” D-Day added. “Saving those sailors? Damn good work.”
The catamaran rescue had hit local news. High winds, capsized hull, three people in the water. Fly had reacted fast, instincts kicking in from years of lifeguard work. He read the chop, angled the Zodiac clean, and slipped into the water without hesitation.
Than followed a half-second later. His form was rougher, less polished, but his heart was all in. He kept one panicked teenager’s head above water while Fly secured the others. The communication between them wasn’t flawless. Bear had heard them shout over each other, correct each other. But it was real, raw, and effective.
Not textbook. Not perfect. But brave. And exactly the kind of moment that revealed who a man might become.
They hadn’t looked to him for orders. They’d just acted. That mattered.
“Hell of a thing,” Joker murmured beside him now. “They have a lot of potential, just a bit untamed.”
“You mean like us before the wives civilized us?” Buck said with a grin.
D-Day barked a laugh. “Speak for yourself.”
Professor chuckled. “They’ve been under Bear’s boot. That’ll synchronize anybody.”
D-Day barked a laugh. “Or break ’em trying.”
Joker stood with his hands behind his back, eyes narrowed against the sun. “Kids have instincts. Both of them. Next to swimming, this course is the most technically demanding.”
Bear didn’t look away from the course. “Already thought the same.”
Below, Fly hit the log balance and crossed in a sprint. Than followed half a beat behind, lighter, quieter, grace where Fly was power. They reached the last obstacle, the slide for life, and hit it side by side, hauling themselves up hand over hand, boots pounding in rhythm until they cleared the top. Then it was quick work from a substantial height to get to the bottom.
The stopwatch in Joker’s hand beeped. He raised a brow. “Beat Blitz’s time by two seconds.”
Blitz groaned. “Son of a?—”
Buck slapped his shoulder. “Guess you’ll live with second place, hotshot.”
“Second place my ass,” Blitz muttered, but the grin gave him away.
Zorro laughed, clapping once. “Well, damn. The next generation’s coming in hot.”
Than and Fly jogged back toward them, breath hard, sweat shining down their arms. Fly’s grin was pure trouble. Than’s quieter, a flash of quiet pride that reminded Bear of home, the calm before a hunt, the silence that meant purpose. When they reached the platform, both men saluted automatically before dropping their hands, still breathing heavy.
“Time?” Fly asked.
Joker flipped the stopwatch toward them. “Record-breaker. Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” Fly said with a grin that meant he already had.
Than caught Bear’s gaze, dark eyes steady. “What’s next?”
Bear’s mouth curved faintly. “Next? You learn not to get cocky.”
Fly laughed. “We’ll do our best, Instructor Locklear.”
Bear gestured to the guys, who had all straightened when the kids finished. “They’re going to run with you for a four-miler. Get moving.”
Before the team could even blink, Than and Fly sprinted away.
“Oh, boys,” Buck said. “We’ve got ourselves a race.”
Joker glanced at Bear as they all disappeared over a sand berm.
“What do you think, LT?”
