“Where does he get off?—”
“He just told you,” He cut her off with a sigh. “Judd’s a pretty straightforward guy.”
Victoria scoffed, peeling her fingers off the table so she could cross her arms. “Straightforward guy,” she mocked, lip curling in a sneer. “Of course you’d defend him.”
“I get it?—”
“What would you get about being a woman in a male-dominated field?”
“Nothing,” Gabriel assured her. “But I know what it’s like to be gay in a special forces unit.”
She deflated a little, finally lifting her eyes to look at Gabriel. Understanding flashed in her eyes, but she didn’t apologize. He didn’t want her to.
“I don’t know what you’ve been through. But I know it wasn’t fair. I know you had to work harder than any man. Do better than any man, and most times it still wasn’t enough. I know you probably volunteered for that suicide mission because, despite all the bullshit you’ve been through, you care. You became a fighter pilot for a reason.”
He leaned his hip against the table. “I’ve known Judd for a long time. He comes across as an idiot. The guy sticks his foot in his mouth so often it’s a wonder his tongue doesn’t have athlete’s foot. But he’s a good guy, and he does genuinely care. If he didn’t respect you, he would say that.”
“He calls me Danger Tits.”
Gabriel winced. “Yeah, that’s…I’m going to be honest, I think in his mind, that might be the highest level of compliment he can give. Doesn’t make it right. I should have stepped in sooner, but I didn’t want you to think I was coddling you. I’ll talk to him. Reassign him, if you want.”
Victoria shifted from foot to foot, chewing her lip. “No, I’ll…I’ll talk to him. I can handle my own business.”
He nodded and pushed off the table. “And Lieutenant? You’re part of Team Oh Shit, too. It’s not him over you, and it never will be.”
“Yeah, well,” the corner of her lips curled in the tiniest of smiles. “Someone has to carry the braincell.”
He clapped her on the shoulder and walked back to Blake’s table. When he got there, Blake reached out and grabbed his arm.
“Tommy has an idea.”
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
“The Metro?”
Irving was staring at Tommy and Blake with a look that could only be described as irritated indifference. He was sitting at his desk, pen in hand, as he took notes on what looked a lot like a magnetized Washington Monument. Tommy wilted under his scrutiny.
His eyes flicked up to Gabriel, who shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I barely understood it the first time.”
Blake found himself biting back a comment that would get him thatlookIrving had. The one that always made him feel like chewed-up gum stuck under his wheels. Tommy had been so excited when he told Blake his plan, fingers shaking as he pointed out points of entry on the map.
The same map Irving had barely even glanced at.
“It’s a good plan,” Blake seethed. “You’re just pissed you didn’t think of it first.”
Gabriel turned his snort into a cough, rubbing his lips with the back of his hand. Irving pursed his lips before gesturing to the map. “Tell me again.”
When Tommy hesitated, Blake elbowed him. “Tell him, Tofu. Use small words so he can follow along this time.”
It was the lowest of blows, and it didn’t really land. Everyone in the room knew that Irving’s intellect was without question. But sometimes he got so into his head, so arrogant, that he didn’t bother to listen.
Tommy’s throat clicked. “Well, um, like I said before, my dad and grandpa were both electrical engineers. They worked on the DC Metro system. Taught me all about it and I…” he trailed off, his hands running over the map.
To anyone outside of regular travelers, the DC Metro map looked like a bad Microsoft Paint project. It was thick lines of primary colors with interspersing white dots for stations and stops. To Blake, the Metro was a living thing. One you had to experience to understand. He couldn’t remember ever looking at the frayed maps tacked to the walls. But Tommy did.
“The lines were built in the sixties and seventies, powered by a third rail system carrying roughly seven hundred and fifty volts, DC?—”
