“Are we betting?”
“Of fucking course we’re betting. I did your bracket for you.”
Jamie slouched a little and tugged Kyle closer. “Am I winning?”
Kyle obediently shifted closer, propping one foot up on the coffee table. “That would be Donovan.”
“What’s the pot?”
“A thousand dollars. Practically nothing to you.”
“Practically nothing that would buy you coffee.”
“You’ll buy me coffee anyway.”
“I’ll buy you whatever you want.”
Katie patted Jamie on the head from behind as she walked past them, a precisely layered cocktail in her other hand. “I trained you well, Jamie.”
Kyle pumped his fist into the air. “Oorah.”
Jamie didn’t even bother replying to that, since it was true. Katie had looked out for him from the first moment he’d been assigned to her care as a wet-behind-the-ears second lieutenant in the Marines. She’d followed him into the Recon Marines because she hadn’t trusted him to stay out of trouble.
In the end, they’d both found trouble, but managed to get through it all right.
Jamie wrapped his arm around Kyle’s shoulders and kept half his attention on the game and the other half on his team as they came and went. Sean got his full attention when the other man came over with a bowl of chips and dip for their coffee table.
“Annabelle and Alexei are fighting over the grill,” Sean said.
“My money’s on Annabelle,” Kyle said, reaching for the chips. “You don’t mess with a Southerner and their barbecue.”
Jamie rolled his eyes. “So long as they don’t burn the steaks.”
“That’s what I told them,” Sean replied. He took a seat on the armchair, beer in hand, eyes on the game. “Who’s winning?”
“Not your team,” Kyle said a little gleefully.
Sean made a face. “Damn it.”
“Talk to Phaedra recently?” Jamie asked, looking over the top of Kyle’s head at Sean.
“Yeah, yesterday. She’s doing good. Still going to therapy but they’ve cut back on the days. She’s getting better.”
“That’s good to hear.”
Sean had saved Phaedra Armstrong in the Montana raid, the only survivor of the Splice lab there. As a clairvoyant with the ability to see things happening in real time anywhere in the world, Phaedra was powerful but young, and legally unable to join the MDF. She’d used her power back in November to locate Alexei and Sean. Without her help, there was a strong chance they might not have reached them in time.
The MDF had placed Phaedra with Alexei’s family for the foreseeable future. His parents and younger sisters doted on the eleven-year-old girl, becoming the family she’d lost in Montana. The MDF had originally assigned an agent to live on-site at the residential apartment complex the Dvorkins had called home, but after what happened in Boston, Jamie bought them a brownstone in a nicer neighborhood and the entire family had relocated. He’d also paid for Phaedra to attend a private school while the MDF footed the bill for her personal security, discreet though it was.
Jamie was big on family, and always would be. He settled more firmly in the couch and got comfortable, watching the game until his glass was empty. At a commercial break, he got to his feet, snagged a handful of chips, and went to get a second round. Trevor was at the bar, pouring a glass of high-end tequila, but he passed over the whiskey bottle without a word.
“Thanks,” Jamie said.
“How goes it?” Trevor asked.
“My father isn’t thrilled about me being unavailable for the campaign right now, especially after the fallout from the closed session hearing.”
Trevor grabbed the whiskey bottle and added an additional pour into Jamie’s glass. “Drink up. Eat something. You dwell, and Katie will read you the riot act.”
