ere’s Hell?”
Jed paused in the middle of setting up the video transmission to see who Flyboy was addressing. The tone of the question was casual but he caught the underlying tension.
“She has a couple of days off,” Jed replied, returning his attention to pulling the feed from archives.
“I know that. I heard she came in yesterday and seeing that she’s still at Center, I’m surprised she isn’t here at this meeting.”
Jed glanced up briefly. Flyboy was still looking at him intently. “This is a meeting for an undergoing COS operation in which Hell only had a tiny part,” he said quietly, “so she doesn’t need to be here.”
“Armando wasn’t actively in this project either,” Flyboy pointed out.
Jed caught Armando’s movement in his periphery vision. Bringing in Armando was a clever move. He hadn’t given the newest commando too much to do lately.
“A failed ironist is a sad, sad man,” Armando murmured.
Sullivan made a rude noise. “The weird one has spoken.”
“What the hell do you mean, failed ironist?” Flyboy demanded.
“Saying one thing and meaning another, and not successfully doing both,” Armando replied, with a small smile, “is a failed ironist. Now you’re morphing into clueless failed ironist.”
Jed was amused at the byplay. Armando might be a handful at times, but he never failed to amuse him with his oddly wry observations.
Flyboy turned back to Jed. “I don’t think there’s anything ironic or clueless about my question. You still haven’t answered me.”
The younger man had been getting more and more protective about Helen, especially since her near-escape during the test operation. “She can take care of herself, Hunter,” Jed said.
“I’ve done as you told me to, kept an eye on her and been a friend when she has questions.” Flyboy looked around the table. “I think everyone should stop keeping her at arm’s length. She passed the test and successfully retrieved the SEED. If one of you guys weren’t around, I’d still ask about you.”
“I believe you haven’t asked where Diamond is,” Heath chimed in, mockery lacing his voice.
Sullivan leaned back in his chair and laughed. Even Shahrukh smiled at the dig.
“I know where Number One is,” Flyboy retorted. “Easy deduction, that. He’s gone after T in Europe, what else?”
Jed hit the button that slid the middle of the briefing table open to allow the laser projection screen to activate. “Now we know who to ask when we need a SITREP of our unit,” he said laconically.
“All but Hell,” Heath pointed out. “He doesn’t know where Hell is.”
“Or whether she should or shouldn’t be joining us at our meetings,” Sullivan added.
“Meeting of the minds can be dangerous,” Armando offered another of his cryptic remarks.
Jed paused. His men—the elite COS Commandos—were in a snippy mood today indeed. It was always interesting when someone new joined the unit—a rare thing—what with the tightly organized functions of each of the nine. He looked around...when there used to be nine, he amended. There were now just seven of them. When Shahrukh had first joined the team to replace one of their dead friends, his size and presence, along with his royal blood line, caused some good old-fashioned male rivalry among some of the men before he was accepted.
His gaze rested on Armando, the second replacement, for an instant. He still wasn’t one hundred percent sure whether Armando would make a good fit but he had the qualities that COS looked for. However, the Virus experimentation was taking its toll on the younger man. There was always a breaking point.
And now there was Helen Roston. How she would do in the long run remained to be seen. They hadn’t yet integrated her as part of the team.
“Hell’s still going through her RV downtime,” Jed said. “Perhaps she’s in her quarters, sleeping it off.”
He’d left her sleeping. An enforced sleep, but that couldn’t be helped. Much as he would prefer to spend the evening and night living out their sexual fantasies in the flesh, he had to attend to the meetings de Clerq had rescheduled for him. Perhaps later.
But right now, he had to focus on current ongoing missions, especially the one they’d been following all the way from Asia to East Europe. He activated the remote in his hand and the 360 degree-viewable screen slid into place. He did a quick test run. He rotated the map, pinpointed a spot on it, and zoomed. The map immediately enlarged, first giving the topological details, then a bird’s eye view of the area, and lastly a cross section of the metropolitan.
It had the desired effect. His men turned their attention to the screen.
Jed clicked as he spoke, letting the visuals carry the weight of the operation details. With the addition of the Admiral’s SEALs as well as independent contractors in the mix, his men had very little time to personally keep up with the new faces.
