Breakneck’s gaze narrowed as he took it in. “Isolated,” he murmured. “Difficult terrain.” His finger lifted, tracing a narrow approach on the screen. “You try to push vehicles in there, you choke yourself at this bottleneck.”
Blair nodded slowly. “Which means they won’t expect a fast insertion.”
Ayla glanced between them, eyes bright. “Exactly.”
Blair leaned back, crossing her arms as the shape of it settled into place. “Looks like it’s horses and helicopters.”
Breakneck’s mouth twitched. Just once.
“Horses and helicopters?” Iceman’s voice came from behind them.
They turned as one.
With Boomer next to him, Iceman stood a few feet back, arms folded, posture loose but coiled, the kind of relaxed that meant violence lived just under the surface. His gaze went first to Breakneck and something eased there. It looked like Ice was saying, The kid’s okay. She was good for him. Iceman would never be anything less than pure, energized intimidation. That was his baseline. But Blair saw it anyway. The way his shoulders settled. The way his attention shifted from concern to relief. Breakneck mattered to him. Not just as a teammate. Not just as a leader. As something closer.
Iceman, his eyes ice blue on a good day, slid to Blair next. On a bad day, downright glacial. They held her for a beat longer than necessary and then, just as quickly, the edge dulled. So fast she almost missed it. Gratitude.
Boomer gave a low grunt, like he’d clocked it too. “You look good, kid. You’ll never be relaxed, but you look almost human.”
“That just about sums us up,” Iceman said dryly. “Let’s get to planning this takedown. The brass is chewing my ass for results.” He tipped his head toward Ayla. “I owe you a beer.”
Ayla smiled, all sharp satisfaction. “I won’t argue with that, Master Chief.”
The room shifted. Screens filled with terrain maps and timelines. Voices layered in, purposeful and controlled.
Blair felt it, the snap from personal analysis to action, the quiet certainty that this was moving forward now, no hesitation left.
Breakneck moved closer as if to soak up whatever she radiated.
“Navy SEALs have more in common with Mounties than you’d think,” Iceman said casually, glancing at Blair. He gave her a quick, unapologetic wink.
“Oh, yeah?” Blair said, amused despite herself.
He nodded once. “Tier 1 doesn’t rest until we get our man.”
Blair laughed softly, then stopped short when Iceman’s gaze slid past her and locked onto Breakneck.
She narrowed her eyes. “Hey.”
Iceman’s mouth twitched. “What? Break’s always been a team guy.”
Boomer huffed quietly, clearly entertained.
Break touched the small of her back where no one could see the gesture. She released a breath, aching to be with Breakneck again, not just with his body, but in the circle of his arms where he held her like more than a lover.
Iceman chuckled under his breath, satisfied, and turned back to the screens.
As Iceman studied the map and Boomer started calling in the team, Break’s shoulder brushed hers, deliberate, familiar now.
He leaned in, voice low. “If you put on that Mountie uniform, I’m all yours, baby. You won’t even need the cuffs.”
She snorted softly, then risked a glance at Iceman. He didn’t look up. Didn’t react. Professional to the bone.
She leaned back into Breakneck just enough and murmured, “What if I want to use the cuffs?”
Breakneck laughed out loud.
Iceman kept his eyes on the match overlay, expression unchanged, except for the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth.
