Kyle settled in for the long haul, focusing on what the director was telling them. The plan called for a synchronized response to a terroristic threat across multiple agencies and branches of the military. Whether or not they were crying wolf remained to be seen.
The meetings seemed endless, but necessary. A lot of time was spent in the military or bureaucracy in a hurry-up-and-wait mode. Kyle was used to it, but that still didn’t make the restlessness afflicting his nerves easy to ignore. He knew he wasn’t the only one getting impatient, but everyone, himself included, was adept at hiding it.
They broke for lunch close to noon, with no one feeling any better about the situation. Nazari was off to a restricted meeting via video conferencing with the president and Joint Chiefs of Staff. Jamie wasn’t needed for that meeting, so he joined them all in the mess, filling up a tray of food like the rest of them.
“What’s your take on this?” Donovan asked Jamie once everyone was seated in a corner table.
Jamie took his time to chew his way through a bite or two of his sandwich. Kyle pressed his knee against Jamie’s under cover of the table, giving him silent support.
“We do whatever it takes to win,” Jamie finally said, looking each of them in the eye.
It wouldn’t be easy; they all knew that. War was many things, but nevereasy. Perseverance wasn’t always enough to make it through the bombs and the gunfire and the political takedowns that compromised too many missions, too many lives. But they were in this together, and Kyle had to believe that counted for something.
“Oorah,” Katie said, the battle cry echoed by everyone at the table, even Sean.
Kyle had faith in his team, in Jamie, and always would.
That would never change, no matter what came at them.
13
Lay the Past to Rest
Jamie eyedhis reflection in the mirror, meticulously appraising every detail of his United States Marine Corps evening dress uniform. Despite being an MDF officer now, the story Jamie had to uphold in the face of the Congressional and Special Counsel investigations was that of an officer in the Marine Corps. Which meant the uniform in question had been delivered that morning, the full regalia something he’d worn only a handful of times in his life before now.
This particular style of evening dress was the equivalent of civilian white-tie. The thin red stripe down the side of his midnight-blue pants was set inside a gold embroidered one. His evening coat was fastened at the embroidered collar but instead of buttoning down the middle, it opened away to the sides, exposing the white dress shirt and white vest.
The two bars representing his captain’s rank were sewn onto the epaulettes over his shoulders, bordered by scarlet and gold piping. The stiff sleeve cuffs carried quatrefoil ornamentation embroidered in gold thread, detailing out his company grade rank. Miniature medals and badges were pinned on the left side of the chest. Jamie double-checked those placements, and it was a good thing he did, because one was off-center.
“Goddamn it,” he muttered. The Purple Heart with its cluster of oak leaves on the medal was his least favorite of the chest candy he’d accrued over the years. Maybe that was why it never cooperated.
“Looks like you could use some help.”
Jamie turned his head, taking in where Kyle lounged in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. Unlike Jamie, he wasn’t in mess dress but civilian clothes, though he’d change soon enough. While the MDF, along with several other agencies overseen by the Department of Defense, were coordinating security around the White House tonight, every MDF field team not currently in the middle of a mission had been reassigned to megacities across the nation.
Alpha Team and some of the teams with heavy hitters were remaining in Washington, D.C. on standby. If an attack happened, the director wanted them within the central and middle zones of the megacity. Aside from the MDF, SOCOM had freed up more Strike Force operatives for the endeavor beyond Matthew’s team at the DOD’s request. With more boots on the ground backed by metahuman power, theoretically, they should be prepared.
Jamie’s gut said otherwise.
“Are you going to stand over there or help?” Jamie asked.
“Just admiring the view. Not every day I see you in evening dress.” Kyle pushed away from the door and came closer. “Stand up straight. If I let you leave looking ate-up, I’ll never hear the end of it from Katie.”
“Iamstanding up straight.”
Kyle gave him a look reminiscent of the one Katie always gave him when he was being particularly stubborn in the field. Jamie was certain it was a look taught to every NCO in a training course officers were never allowed to set foot in. It still made Jamie automatically square his shoulders, and he made a face at Kyle’s knowing smirk.
“That’s more like it,” Kyle drawled. “Now hold still. These coats take a little more work to get the medals on just right.”
“I know. I’ve only been fighting it for the past five minutes.”
Kyle ignored him, smoothing the coat over his chest with firm hands, eyeing how it fell. With nimble fingers, he unpinned then re-pinned two of the six miniature medals Jamie wore. He patted Jamie’s chest and nodded at the mirror.
“Take a look.”
Jamie turned and checked his reflection again, relieved to see the problem had been fixed with the help of Kyle’s keen eyes. “Thank you.”
“I think I should be the one thanking you. When things settle down and we can have a night to ourselves, you should put this uniform on again.” Kyle’s smile in the mirror was downright lascivious. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”
