“When it was Domina, did you sleep?” I run my fingers over the tattoo on my arm. It’s all I have of her. What if it’s all Ieverhave of her?
“Yes. I did.” He casts a quick glance over his shoulder. “Though Austin and Trevor practically had to beat me over the head to get me to lie down.”
“Don’t even think about it.”
One corner of his mouth quirks up. “Wouldn’t be a fair fight. I’ve got six inches on you.”
“Yeah, but I’ve got two working eyes.” It’s a low blow, and I hold up my hands before he can call me on it. “Sorry, man. That was a shitty thing to say.”
“I said my share last year. But I was serious about the shuteye.”
“We don’t even know if she’s still alive.” I don’t mean to say the words aloud. But now that I have, they’re all too real. “Fifteen hours. That’s how long it’s been.”
Austin joins us and runs a hand over two days of rough stubble. “Assuming he’s not an idiot, he knows you care about her. He’d have made sure she was alive to see us die.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I shove the man, but he outweighs me by at least seventy pounds, and all I manage to do is spill his coffee.
Austin wipes his hands on his pants and glares at me. “It’s supposed to be the truth. Leo, Griff, and I have all been in your shoes. Our women are safe because we had help. We had family. Welistenedto the men and women who dropped everything for us. You aren’t in this alone, Nomar. But you have to trust us. Take two hours. Consider that an order.”
“You’re not my boss anymore, Pritchard.” I should listen to him, but I need to hit something, and he’s the closest target. If he takes the bait.
He squares his shoulders and stares down at me. “Oh no? Griff, Leo, and Zephyr all work forme.”
“What? I thought…Ford sent them. Who’s footing the bill for all this shit?” As soon as I ask the question, I shake my head. “No. Not you.”
“Whynotme? For fuck’s sake, Nomar. I’m the one who sent you to Shapur. Who kept delaying your extraction. The President put me on that goddamn publicity tour, then there was all that shit with Trevor and Dani, Pakistan, Griff…” Austin rubs the back of his neck and stares over my shoulder at the closed bedroom door. “He lost his fucking arm.”
“That wasn’t your fault,” Leo says sharply. “You didn’t set off that bomb. The Taliban did. Stop blaming yourself.”
Guilt swims in Austin’s gaze. He can’t. He won’t. He’ll carry that burden for the rest of his life. “Iamthe boss here, Nomar. When this is all over, Rescue Operations Group has a place for you. If you want it.”
This is too much. “I work alone.”
“Not anymore.” Austin claps a hand on my shoulder. “As much as I resisted it at first—hell, even theideaof it—my team is a family. Along with Second Sight and Hidden Agenda. Huge. Dysfunctional as fuck. But definitely a family.”
“Wait. That makes you the dad, doesn’t it?” Leo asks. “Tell Griff to stop calling me Grandpa, will you? Threaten to ground him or something.”
Laughing feels wrong with Lisette and Mateen still out there. Scared. In danger. But it’s also a reminder of what’s waiting for me on the other side of this mess. A life. One where maybe…I don’t have to be alone.
“I already sent him to his room,” Austin says with a chuckle. “You too, Nomar. If you won’t follow orders, maybe you’ll listen to old Pops here. Get some rest. In two hours, we’ll come up with a plan.”
“Pops?” I shake my head. “You’re two years younger than I am.”
“Could be worse,” Leo says. “He could have asked you to call him Daddy.”
* * *
I managean hour before I’m so wired, I can’t lie still. Griff, the bastard, doesn’t hear the low murmurs of the men in the other room. Not being able to understand what they’re saying through the door sets me on edge, but if I show my face, Pritchard is going to start spouting off about family again.
Leo’s pack is propped against the wall. I saw a notebook in there earlier. It’s been years since I left a letter in my footlocker. Years since I thought anyone would care if I didn’t come home.
But this whole situation is FUBAR, and if shit goes sideways, there’s no one left to send in. So I find the notebook, sink down across from the door, and start flipping to find a blank page.
Lisette’s flowing script stares back at me. Letters to Noele, her mother, father, and…me.
I should put the damn thing away. Pretend I never saw it. But when have I ever done therightthing?
Dear Nomar,
