“Hey, I try.” He shoved one of the beers at Viper. “Don’t say I never did anything for you, Boss.”
Viper took the bottle and tilted it in a mock toast before handing it off to Ward instead. “Feel better?” he asked, reaching out to trail his knuckles down Ward’s arm.
“Like a human again,” Ward murmured, stepping into his space. “A very, very tired human.”
“Then eat, and then bed.” Viper pressed a brief kiss to his temple. “We’ve got time for one more quiet night.”
Trace and Juice were sitting close together at the far end, heads bent over a tablet, probably already sorting logistics. Kaze was circling like a hungry wolf. Zero had somehow acquired both a carving board and a loaf of bread and was slicing with surgical precision. Reaper stood behind the stove, steak spatula in one hand, a meat thermometer in the other, wearing the kind of expression usually reserved for demolitions and fine bourbon.
Ward sat, and before he could ask for anything, Viper slid a full plate in front of him—steak, root vegetables, thick slabs of crusty bread, and a scoop of something creamy that might have been mashed parsnips.
“You cooked this?”
“No,” Viper said with a smirk. “I know my strengths, and cooking isn’t one of them.”
“It’s amazing,” Ward said after the first bite, flavor exploding on his tongue like an ambush. “Seriously, Reaper. If the Navy ever fires you, you could run a restaurant.”
“I like blowing things up too much,” Reaper replied gruffly, but the corner of his mouth twitched like the compliment had landed where it counted.
For a little while, the world narrowed to food and warmth and the occasional clink of cutlery against ceramic. Ward ate until his plate was empty, then leaned back and let the weight of everything finally settle into his muscles.
Juice looked up from the tablet, eyes tired but sharp. “Trace says the Dolmen’s stable. We’re good for one more jump, if needed, but the door needs to rest after that.”
“Rest?” Viper asked.
“Recharge, I think,” Juice said. “Whatever Ward and the Fianna did to open it, it’s not endless. They’ve tied it to natural ley lines, so it can refuel over time, but if we push it, it might fracture.”
Ward nodded slowly. “We planned it that way. It’s a bridge, not a revolving door.”
Viper must have caught the slump of his shoulders because the next thing Ward knew, his hand was being gently tugged.
“Come on, Grá Croí,” Viper murmured near his ear. “You’re done for today.”
Ward stood, mostly on autopilot, and let himself be led through the den toward one of the guest rooms. Viper opened the door, pulled back the covers, and coaxed him into bed with the kind of quiet efficiency that made Ward’s chest ache.
“I’ll be in soon,” Viper promised, brushing a kiss to his temple. “Sleep now. I’ll watch your six.”
Ward was asleep before he could respond.
***
Viper shut the door to his and Ward’s room and exhaled through his nose, the tenderness of the moment evaporating the instant he turned back toward the living area. When he stepped into the den again, the temperature felt different. No one said a word, but postures shifted. Kaze straightened from where he’dbeen lounging. Zero looked up from his sharpening stone. Trace passed the tablet back to Juice without a word.
“Juice,” Viper said.
The man stood, the look in his eyes sharpening instantly. “Sir.”
“Talk to me.”
“Clean footprint,” Juice reported. “We came through the woods without satellite contact. No civvies. No drones. I did a sweep with the FLIR—thermal’s cold within a ten-mile radius. No air activity. This place is still black.”
“Communication?”
“Off-grid. We’ve been radio silent since the island. I rigged a local loop off Trace’s old HAM rig in case we need shortwave, but nothing that can ping GPS or cellular.”
“Good.” Viper turned. “Reaper.”
The man uncrossed his arms from the corner. “I made contact. Guy I know out of Djibouti. Runs logistics through unofficial channels. No flag, no ID, no questions.”
