“Will do, new guy.”
“Thought you said the spit shine wore off?”
“I said wearing off. It’s still there in places.”
I flipped him off, shut my eyes, and forced myself to power down.
A few hours later, under the cover of darkness, I wandered through the camp to the command center. There was no privacy in there. The first floor of the tower housed the C2 and was an open-air breezeway. I didn’t know how they kept all that tech gear humming the way they needed to, but that was outside my scope.
At the base of the tower, I spied Daddio—Daniel—slouched over a laptop. I stopped to watch while he remained unaware. He’d definitely dropped weight and maybe muscle tone, too, if his thinner face and slightly baggy shirt were anything to go by.
“If all you’re gonna do is lurk in the shadows, I have work to do. If you’re here about the package, it’s not ready yet.”
I smirked, eyes darting toward the few others in the area, before I responded, “I brought food.”
“I’d be ecstatic to hear those words if I thought by food you meant actual edible sustenance and not MREs.”
Laughter bubbled up, and I moved to sit at the table next to him. “Yeah, I wish I could say I had cheeseburgers from Hodad’s, but I managed to get my hands on the Chili Mac, and I traded for a couple packages of the Jalapeno Cheese Spread.”
“Holy fuck. That must’ve cost you.”
I set the packages between us, pulled out myLeatherman, and opened them one by one, handing him his first, then opening mine.
“It was worth it.”
A stuttered sigh, followed by several more, filled the space between us, then he whispered, “You heated it.”
“Only thing worse than an MRE is a cold MRE.”
He laughed, picked up his spoon, and dug in. I sighed and did the same, pressing my knee against the outside of his thigh.
“So, how is the hunt for the asshole who hit us going? We get very little of that in the intel briefings.”
“It’s ongoing. We’ll find him.”
I nodded. People like Daniel would keep things moving forward. Echo’s job, my job…I added, “And in the meantime, you’ll point the spear, and we’ll take out the cronies who provide aid and comfort.”
“Yes. The ops youse are doing…”
“Youse?” I laughed at the slip into Boston-Irish he usually covered with his Ivy League education.
“I’m tired.”
“When was the last time you slept?”
“Are you…”
Gunfire erupted, silencing him and forcing me to my feet. Therat-a-ta-tatof an AK sounded again.
“Is that what I think it is?”
I nodded, turning on my comms. Parker’s voice sounded in my ear as they came online.
“This is One. I’m at the northern perimeter under heavy fire. All stations report.”
“This is Three. Four is with me. We’re on the runway.”
“Six, Seven, and Eight are heading toward the southwest perimeter. Six and Eight will spread out west and south.
