as he reached for Mom’s plate and served her a helping of pasta. One thing he and his foster brothers had been taught from the day they arrived was that it was polite to serve the ladies first. He and his brothers had always waited for Mom and their sisters to serve themselves family style before they dared touch so much as a roll.
Mom didn’t comment on Ajax’s inference as she handed the salad bowl to Ryker. “Dig in. You boys are going to need sustenance.”
“We’re going to need some long runs, protein shakes, and a lot of weight lifting. That’s what we’re going to need,” Ryker pointed out.
Ajax smirked. “Truth.”
“Still got all the weights set up in the barn, boys. We’ll get you back in shape in no time.” Dad nodded and took his first bite, moaning around the flavor. “You’ve outdone yourself, Nancy.”
Ajax smiled. He was pretty sure the man said that nearly every day at least once. He was also pretty sure his mother flushed each time he complimented her too.
“What you both need,” his mother pointed out, “is a haircut. If you want to lose some weight, you might want to start with that crazy-long hair. I’ll get the electric razor out this afternoon.”
Ajax chuckled. “Sounds like a plan.”
She rolled her eyes. “And those beards… You sure nothing’s growing in them?” she teased.
Ajax stroked his, a habit he’d picked up recently. He’d never had facial hair in his life until three months ago. He was pretty sure Ryker hadn’t either. Was it ironic that they’d both let themselves go for the last three months? Grief could do that to a man.
It wasn’t until later that evening, after Ajax had eaten two home-cooked meals, let his mother give him a perfect military haircut, shaved his beard, and helped Ryker move some hay bales around in the barn that the three men finally sat down on the porch to talk.
Mom was watching her game shows on TV, her evening indulgence. She usually knitted while she watched, and she laughed often enough to make everyone smile.
Ryker filled Dad in on the details as they knew them and they all leaned back in their chairs. If Frank were any other man, they probably wouldn’t have told him quite so much about the upcoming mission, but he wasn’t—he was Frank Holt. Military himself. He understood how things worked, and he’d never breathe a word to another living soul.
He sighed. “You trust this Charley woman?”
“Got no choice,” Ajax pointed out.
“Guess that’s true.” Frank leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees and rubbing his palms together. “And the woman you met yesterday? What was her name?”
“Serena,” Ajax said. He could picture her clearly, and he had, several times since meeting her. He was beginning to wonder if the woman in his head was even her now. It wasn’t that she’d been tall. Five-six he’d guess, but the heels had made her taller. Those eyes… Damn, he couldn’t get them out of his mind. A rare pale green. Her lips. Plump and pink, especially after she licked them. Her sleek black hair had been pulled back in a tight bun, making him wonder how long it was.
Serena was the kind of woman who would definitely make him glance twice in a bar, someone he would ask to dance or buy her a drink. Except he didn’t get the feeling she was the sort of woman who went to bars. And more importantly, she wasn’t the type to travel to dangerous African countries to play tour guide to two former SEALs. What the hell did they need her for?
Ajax couldn’t fully decide if he was pissed at Charley for insisting Serena join them or pleased that he’d get to see her again.
They would be flying commercial, of course, meeting up with Serena at Dulles for a nonstop flight to Addis Ababa. Thirteen-hour flight. Could have been worse. There could have been a layover somewhere. Ajax preferred not changing planes, which frequently happened in Frankfurt or someplace in the Middle East, like Qatar.
“Is she military?” Dad asked.
Ryker snorted. “Not even close.”
Dad flinched. “Then what is she? CIA?”
Ajax shook his head. “Doubtful. Neither Charley nor Serena were forthcoming.”
Dad’s brow was furrowed. “Gotta tell you, I don’t like this. Not a bit.”
“We don’t either,” Ryker pointed out. “But you’d do it too if it were you, and you know it.”
“Damn right I would. Doesn’t mean I’d like it any better. You boys need to be sharp and