“She’s teasing, Sun,” Neesa said. “She was already going to train with the fast response groups and head out into the field. Just so you know, we’re both sleep-deprived and in physical pain from an emergency yesterday.”
“Sorry, Sun,” Rylee said, “it’s been a weird twenty-four hours, but I shouldn’t be giving you a hard time.”
“Okay. So you will go and investigate. Youareup to it.”
“I’ll have to feel my way through situation by situation. I was being serious when I said I’m not in my twenties anymore, and my body doesn’t just bounce back after injuries the way it used to.” Rylee turned to Neesa. “Saying that out loud gives me insight into what our teams are thinking as they’re aging in our ranks.”
“We’ll need to work with our people, so they aren’t on a merry-go-round that doesn’t stop.”
“I’ll talk to them about what they think might help,” Rylee said. “In the meantime, counterfeit is dangerous not just to derailing our missions when they’re functioning on foreign soil with foreign laws and foreign prisons, but also to their health and well-being if locals think that WorldCares is a scam. In a disaster, when survival isn’t guaranteed, emotions run hot.”
Neesa focused on Sun, “Did they put our people in jail?”
“They were asked questions at the airport,” he said. “The counterfeit currency was confiscated, and everyone went home.”
Rylee’s phone alarm sounded. “That’s my signal that it’s time to skedaddle. I have to dress out and head to the training ground. Today, Sun, per your good counsel, I will start training with Lima Team on how to leap out of a hovering helicopter.”
Chapter Ten
Dakota
Tuesday
The walk from his office to the WorldCares Operations building was only about fifteen minutes.
He wore his urban male uniform: a medium-shade blue suit, brown hard-soled shoes, and a tie. Dakota hated the tie; he’d never get comfortable wearing a tie. Especially now as it flapped around in the wind. He kept tucking it back into his suit jacket, putting “tie clip” on his mental shopping list.
Last night on the way home from work, Benny had a heart attack, and Dakota had joined Jasper up at the hospital supporting Martha until her family could get there. Worried for his friend, Dakota had taken Tank for a good, long run that morning to shake off any prickly energy that might interfere with today’s mission.
It was still good to fast-pace their walk, settling any nerves either of them might have going into a new experience: their first real-world solo sniff test.
He’d have to ask permission to use his video camera during the part of this meeting where Tank was deploying his sniffer. He could imagine that it wouldn’t normally be allowed for security reasons. But Reaper wanted to see how they did when he wasn’t around to keep fine-tuning the team’s approach.
When Dakota was with the Navy on the swift boat team, it was all about honing skills, building best-practice muscle memories, and consistency so that missions flowed like water. Dakota and Tank could never let up on their daily training.
Just as Dakota put his foot on the bottom stair of the WorldCares Operations building, the right-side door swungopen. A brown-haired woman in a black trench coat stepped out onto the stoop, angling her head toward the sky to check the weather, then turning her attention to her phone before raising her hand in the air to signal someone. She hustled away from him, down the stairs toward the cross street.
Yeah, it washer.
A moment later, she disappeared from view.
Dakota would have liked better reflexes and a quicker brain at that moment, then he’d have jogged around the corner to see if he could introduce himself.
Yeah, definitelyher.
It wasn’t just the brown hair; it was how she moved with the fluidity of an athlete and an aura of confidence, even when she was storming out of a medical building seething with anger.
She was the same woman he’d seen Sunday at the races, too, because Tank knew her.
Tank leaped forward like he had at the mud race, hellbent on getting over to her this time.
Dakota had to lift Tank off his feet by the handle of his work vest to maintain control.
That was no small feat, since Dakota’s body flew apart into those particles like some kind of sci-fi film character. His gray matter wasn’t firing on all cylinders.
Luckily, he pieced himself back together much faster than the first time it happened at the race, where he blamed the sensation on depleted electrolytes.
And yesterday, the same damned sensation when he turned suddenly at the taxi to see her coming out of the medical building. It had dissipated a bit faster.
