He hadn’t seen her in over two years, but the moment she stepped into the smaller backroom of the hangar, and that steel door clicked shut behind them, the air shifted.
Same stride. Same control. Same damn fire.
But he’d been right—something was way out of whack.
He’d seen her orchestrate missions under enemy fire with a level of calm that made other seasoned operatives look likerookies. But now? Her posture was ten degrees too rigid. Her jaw clenched in intervals. And those sharp, assessing eyes that once identified threats in three seconds flat were darting—tactically, but still darting.
She didn’t trust her environment. Or maybe she didn’t trust the plan. But with even those things, she could adjust her thinking. Adjust the plan. She’d worry. Every good team leader would. It was their job not only to plan and execute but also to protect their people.
But his team had shown up with little to no warning wouldn’t rattle her to the point everyone in the room could feel it. Though that bothered him on a different level—one he planned on discussing.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She folded her arms across her chest and leaned against her desk. “You’re supposed to be getting briefed.”
Kawan inched closer. “You’re twitchy,” he said, leaning a shoulder against the scarred metal filing cabinet. “That’s not like you. Not at this stage of a mission.”
“I’m responsible for a highly classified mission with a dozen moving parts. If you were me, you’d be running on adrenaline too.” She pushed from the desk, turned, shoved a map across the metal top, lifted a blueprint and set setting it aside, and rifled through a folder as if it had personally offended her.
“We all run on it,” Kawan said, watching her aimlessly assault a stack of papers and literally do nothing with them. She barely glanced at each before setting them aside. The woman he knew was focused. Razor-sharp clarity. Outside of the tension ball, her movements were precise. Everything she did before a mission had purpose. Nothing was random. Everything about this was haphazard. “But you’re burning through it like there’s a hole in your tank.”
“Your similes suck,” she mumbled. “And I’m fine.”
“Right.” He let the sarcasm bubble. “You’re fine the way a grenade with a pulled pin is stable.”
That earned him a tilt of her head and a flicker of a smirk. Then she shifted until she faced him. Those glacier-cut eyes, all sharp angles and unasked questions, were a scalpel to his chest. “Your team’s not a standard Evac unit. Not unless you’re coming in after a mission’s blown up and you’re there to find…” She glanced toward the ceiling. “Specs literally got the email about a team showing up to be more than just evac as you were rolling in. But of all the fucking teams they could send me… it had to be you?”
“Aw, sweetheart, and here I thought you’d be happy to see me.”
A pause. Then her lips curved into a grin—more in annoyance than amusement. “Still an arrogant bastard.”
“You always did like that about me.”
Lark turned, the stress ball from earlier now rolling between her palms. “Did you speak to Grady? Lorre? Or was the order I read from Thor all you got?” She drew her lips into a tight line.
“Orders came down directly from Grady. We don’t know anything about Lorre. What did Grady send you?”
She exhaled. “I didn’t get a chance to read the message.”
He arched a brow. “That’s not like you. You’re too detail orientented. And you often question everything, including direct orders.”
“Oh, trust me, I’m questioning this, but like I said, the orders didn’t come in until you showed up. She pulled her phone from her pocket. “Specs sent it to me, and I took a look before you stormed my office. It doesn’t say much. Just to utilize your skill set.” She stepped around the desk, firing up her laptop. “We’ve had a few… unexpected changes to the plan, like the location of the meet shifted slightly, but that just happened within thelast hour .” She lifted her gaze. “When were your orders handed down?”
“We just finished a two-week deployment not far from here,” Kawan said. “Our orders came four hours ago. Report to the commanding officer and support the mission. We weren’t told anything about the mission or who was running it.”
She stood tall, planting one hand on her hip, while fiddling with the stress ball with the other. “Lorre’s been up my ass about this mission for weeks. You think I’m a bundle of nerves? You should see him. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised he’s concerned. He acts like this will either make or break his career—only he’s retiring.”
Kawan inched closer. “You saw our orders, so you know Lorre had nothing to do with them.” He curled his fingers around her wrist and glanced between the orange ball and her face. “You think Lorre asked Grady to send us? Why?”
“Either Lorre doesn’t trust I can get the job done and lose the AI, or Grady believes that.” She held his gaze without blinking.
Releasing her, he took a step back. He ran a hand over his unshaven face. A million things ran through his brain. None of them were good. Grady had chosen to send them. He’d waited four hours before telling Lark.
That hadn’t been a mistake, and it could only mean one of two things in Kawan’s eyes.
“I don’t know if I believe that.” He moved slowly toward the door, keeping his gaze between her eyes and that damn ball.
“What else could it be?”
“I’m not sure I want to tell you.”
