“I’d say you have nothing to worry about with her, but you’re like me. You’ll always worry.”
They’d been officers, in charge of the people underneath them, determined to bring everyone home alive and safe. They’d lost teams before between them, buried good men and women in the shadow of a war that made companies rich off the blood of too many people. Yet they’d survived and gone back into the fray time and time again until they couldn’t. Circumstances changed, and they were older now than when they’d both been turned into metahumans and chosen duty over everything else.
“She’ll be a good captain,” Liam said.
“You were a good captain, Liam. Leaving doesn’t make you any less an officer.”
“It still feels like I’m abandoning my post.”
“Officers,” Kyle said with a snort from the back seat. “The only way you’d abandon your post was if you were buried six feet under. You and Jamie are both too alike that way. You were a good leader, and you’ll still be that even if you aren’t in the field. I know that, and I wasn’t even a member of your team, but I bet you they’d say the exact same thing.”
Liam laughed a little hollowly, giving Jamie a wan smile. “NCOs, yeah?”
Jamie smiled. “NCOs.”
“Damn straight,” Kyle muttered.
The rest of the drive was made in a more companionable silence, and Liam seemed to relax more. Their escort peeled off at the secured entrance to Kensington Palace, while they continued past the guard gate to the residential parking lot. Jamie pulled into a guest spot and killed the engine.
“Come inside for a beer,” Liam said.
“Sure,” Jamie said.
He and Kyle had eaten before playing chauffer for Liam, and they’d never say no to a beer. They got out of the car, and Kyle reached for his hand in an absent way that still made Jamie happy all these many months after their relationship came to light.
The muggy summer night was traded in for the cool interior of Liam’s cottage. It was smaller than Clarence House, but it fit Liam more these days—less a bachelor pad and more a home.
“How are you feeling?” Jamie asked as they followed Liam into the kitchen.
Liam shrugged before fetching three beers from the fridge. “I healed up fine. I’m scheduled for therapy in a couple of days, and I’m not allowed to whinge my way out of it. My team’s been mother-henning me worse than my mum.”
“Samaira threatened bodily harm if we let you out of our sight,” Kyle said.
Liam looked proud. “She does give a good threat.”
Jamie popped the cap on his beer, eyeing Liam thoughtfully. “But you’re all right?”
“The Reborn IRA crashed a truck into me. Knocked me about. Shoved a bit of metal through me. They wanted me as payment for Bennett.” Liam took a swallow of beer before pointing a finger at Jamie. “They wanted you to hurt more than me.”
Jamie grimaced, knowing he’d take it personally if Liam had died because of him. Beside him, Kyle chugged half his beer before wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve.
“If I see that fucker in my crosshairs, I’m shooting him right between the eyes,” Kyle said.
Jamie opened his mouth to remind him about the MDF’s preference to bring the former CIA deputy director back alive, but the look Kyle shot him made him shut his mouth.
Kyle smirked in the face of Jamie’s silence. “I’ll say my finger slipped.”
Liam nearly choked on his beer. “No one in either of our countries who knows your record would believe you.”
Jamie laughed, figuring he could convince Kyle to follow the general orders where Bennett was concerned once they were alone. Sexual favors sometimes worked, and other times, Kyle did whatever he thought was best for Jamie, much the same way Katie had when the team had been together. If there was one truth shared by most militaries, it was that NCOs got the job done.
A chime sounded through the cottage, and Liam set down his beer, a curious look on his face. “Huh.”
“Are you expecting anyone?” Jamie asked.
“Possibly. Put your gun away, Kyle.”
“No can do. I’ll get the door. You stay here,” Kyle said, making no move to holster his handgun.
