“Castello, it’s Fritz,” the voice responded, “Are you Stateside?”
“Yeah?” Why the fuck was his former commander, Major Fritz Blackwell, calling him at, he lifted his wrist and squinted at the luminous dial on his watch, zero four hundred. “What’s going on?”
“Do you have a job on?” Fritz asked, “Or are you free?”
“We got home a couple of days ago.” Coming back here was a dumbassmove. You should have brought him with you.Castello shoved aside what he should have or could have done. He was so far past the stage of giving a shit.
He also didn’t have a problem giving Fritz information. Team Panther were now working as contractors for the US Government. He wasn’t entirely sure which branch or to whom they reported. He didn’t need to know. “I’ll have to check with my contact to see if we had anything come in overnight, but the plan was for us to take a month R&R.”
“Can you check and get your asses to Texas?”
Nope, I am going looking for Axel.“Sure.”
“Thanks,” Fritz answered, “I’ll wait for your call back.”
Castello pulled the phone back from his ear and looked at the screen,
“Bah, the fucker hung up on me.”
“Boss?” Zack’s voice proceeded a solid thump on the door, “You good in there?”
Castello swung his legs out of bed, there were no covers to throw back, he had face-planted onto the bed without bothering to get under the covers the night before. “Yeah.” His second in command had a radar for trouble. A phone call at zero four hundred rarely brought good news. Zack shouldn’t have been able to hear Castello’s phone buzzing on the nightstand, but every time it happened his second was there knocking on the door asking if all was well. “I need to scan the damn room for bugs again,” Castello muttered.
“Make coffee.” He yelled at Zack.
“Way ahead of you, Boss.” Zack answered drily. “Your mug of Joe is on the floor outside the door. Hurry your ass up, Sawyer is making pancakes.”
“Be right there.” Castello went to take a piss and wash his hands. If Sawyer was making pancakes, then he needed to move fast or the pack of wolves he called a team wouldn’t even leave him scraps. His stomach growled at the thought of the fluffy goodness that were the maple syrup-topped, bacon-covered pancakes, aka Sawyer’s breakfast special. He thanked whatever instinct he had that told him to pick Sawyer for his former Delta Force Team Lynx. Sawyer’s mom had been a roadhouse cook and taught her kids every trick and skill she knew. Castello and his team were more than
happy to have Sawyer do the cooking, Castello would even volunteer for dishwashing duty just to keep eating the food his bomb specialist whipped up.
“Have we got anything on the books this week?” Castello asked as he rounded the corner leading into his kitchen. Stumbling, he took a giant step to avoid the dog lying across the space between the island and the fridge. Pain shot through his foot and up his shins as his toe slammed into the corner of the island, “Fuck.” Castello hopped on one foot, his hand grasping his injured foot. “Ouch, Balas, damn it.”
The dog grunted at Castello and flopped over onto his back, his tail thumping on the granite floor.
“Sit your ass down, Boss, before you hurt yourself,” Rafe grabbed Castello’s arm and dragged him to the bar stool on the outside of the kitchen island.
“I did fucking hurt myself,” Castello muttered, “Asshole does it on purpose.”
“Does what?” Rafe grabbed a med kit from the top of the fridge, and he rubbed his foot over the dog’s stomach as he passed him.
“Lies right fucking there where he knows I will fall over him.”
“Boss, he’s been lying there for nearly two years,” Rafe grabbed Castello’s foot and peered at the toe, the weird angle making him wince. “It’s broken.”
“I can see that, dumbass.” Castello grumbled. “Straighten it and strap it.”
“Give him a shot of painkiller too,” Sawyer flipped the frying pan, a pancake rising up and flopping back down onto the non-cooked side. “It might sweeten his disposition, seeing as he’s not getting laid this week.”
“Shut it, asshole.” Castello grabbed a remote control from the island and threw it at Sawyer’s ass. He didn’t want to think of Axel. Couldn’t. It fucking hurt.
“Boss didn’t have enough coffee yet,” Zack filled another mug and handed it to Castello. “Give him an hour and he will be human.”
“Maybe,” Sawyer muttered.
“Shut it.” Castello ignored the pain radiating from his toe as Rafe manipulated it back into place and sipped from the mug. “Where’s Connor?”
“He didn’t come home last night.” Sawyer plated the pancake from the pan and poured more batter. “Probably got laid.”
