Page 29 of Pieces of You

“Wilco.”

Greer Finlay

When I’d learned we were flying private, I hadn’t expected this.

Cullen and I boarded the plane and came face-to-face with a few men I could only describe as different versions of myself. Men with looks of determination. Focus. Soldiers. No combat gear yet, but the usual threads we wore underneath. Those military colors, with or without camo. Backpacks or duffel bags. EDC gear on the tray tables here and there, like folders and flashlights, knives and medic pouches…

Everyone looked out of place in this luxurious…ten…twelve-seater jet.

An older man rose from his seat and extended his hand, and I recognized him. Emerson.

“Good to see you again, Greer. I’m Emerson Payne—I don’t know if you remember.”

“I remember.” I nodded once and shook his hand firmly. “Thanks for invitin’ us to the party.”

He cracked a smirk. “You’ll fit right in. River and Reese will be here any moment, and then we’re wheels up.” He gestured to the man sitting next to him. “This is Danny, my husband.”

So this was like peering into River and Reese’s past. These were the people they’d worked with in their PMC days. And Danny was…cleaning his fingernails with a knife. As one did.

I probably didn’t wanna know about the dried blood on his knuckles.

We got introductions out of the way, and Cullen and I found two cushy seats where we wouldn’t have to bump shoulders. Like on the flight from New York. Christ. I fucking hated flying economy.

“You okay?” I eyed Cullen.

He inclined his head but said nothing. I got it. He was worried about Crew. The kid was fine, though. One hell of a Marine. He didn’t need to be rescued this time. I trusted him.

After stowing away our backpacks in the overhead compartment, I heard the voice of a Tenley.

“All right, let’s fucking go.”

I drew a breath, and Reese and I locked eyes, him at the front of the cabin, me near the back.

Goddamn, he was a sight for sore eyes. But this wasn’t my kink buddy I’d once started a community with. This was the PMC. The warrior looking for blood.

I swallowed and walked down the aisle, and we met halfway and hugged each other tightly.

He was in so much pain—and it was reflected in River’s eyes too. He lingered at the front, where Emerson had saved them seats, and River nodded to me. It was what he managed. So I nodded back.

We’re gonna bring him home, guys.

I clapped Reese on the back before we eased apart, and he cleared his throat.

“I appreciate y’all comin’ out.”

“Don’t mention it,” I replied. “I always wanted to visit Colombia.”

His mouth twisted slightly, and he shook his head. “I fucking missed you, Finlay. You’re the right amount of crazy.”

“So put me to work,” I said. “We figure this operation will be a good warm-up before we go home and our ma finds out we put ourselves at risk.”

“My wife already ratted us out,” Cullen grumbled.

Dammit, Peyton. Damn vegans always ruined things.

“Buckle up, lads!” Emerson called. “We’re off.”

CHAPTER 8