Monk didn’t even try to hide his smirk. “You seem edgy today, Rome. What’s the matter? Didn’t get enough sleep?”
Rome lowered his mug and glanced between Monk and Townie. “Which one of you bastards is responsible for putting Stina in the room across from mine?”
O twisted his face away but not before Rome caught the flash of a grin. With a grin, Younger set down his book to watch the events unfold.
Rome pushed off the counter, straightening to his full height. “I want Townie back in that room.”
Townie chewed his sandwich like he didn’t have a care in the world. “No chance. I needed a change of scenery.”
Rome stared. Townie stared back.
“What scenery did you get exactly? A room with a window? Because none of us have those.” He waved a hand around the underground base. A little sunlight streamed in from shafts that filtered light in from the outside world, but if they wanted more, they had to go topside. It was like living in a damn submarine.
Townie shrugged and bit off another huge chunk of his sandwich.
From the corner of his eye, he caught O mouthing something across the table to Younger.
Rome jerked his head their way, eyes narrowed. “I thought Cannon said no more bets.”
Younger rolled his eyes. “Seems pretty hypocritical when you were the last to profit from a bet.”
He’d given Stina some of his winnings to buy pizza, which was probably forgotten in the bottom of her purse.
“We’re not discussing that.”
Before anyone could say more, the intercom crackled. “War room. Five minutes.”
Everyone gulped down the rest of their coffee and stuffed what food they could in their mouths, switching into operator mode as they converged on the war room.
The large command center was the pulse of Sierra’s base, and it was already crackling with tension when they filed in.
Rome dropped into his usual seat and fixed his attention on Cannon. The man widened his stance, arms folded.
“We’ve got movement on Echo’s inventory.”
That had everyone’s attention. Blackout Echo had been wiped out in a single strike by the terrorist Cipher. Afterward, the armory at Echo’s own hidden base had been cleaned out—everything stolen.
And that inventory was now being circulated.
The Sierra team, as well as the rest of Blackout, was working to identify who was buying, selling and moving those weapons, and it seemed they’d made some progress.
Rivers planted his elbows on the table. “Arms dealers?”
Cannon nodded. “Some MK48s were seized by the ATF last night. The serial numbers are from Echo’s armory.”
The image of Stina’s tattoo retreated to the back of Rome’s mind as he fixated on a new problem.
The main monitor flickered to life, and a second war room appeared with a similar setup as Sierra’s, the long table surrounded by the men who made up Charlie team.
Grins appeared around the table, and for a moment, the war room felt less like a command center and more like going home for a long weekend.
Cannon nodded at Charlie’s commanding officer. Constantine, aka Con, nodded in return.
Also in view were several members of Charlie’s tech support team. Their operator, Dante, sat between two women who assisted him, all three absorbed in whatever they were working on.
Con sent Dante a sideways glance. “Tell them.”
Dante looked like he hadn’t slept in days, poor bastard. Rome and everyone in this room had been in his worn boots before, never resting until the mission reached some level of completion.
