Get yourselves organized. I don’t have to remind you all how important it is to eliminate Angar Said as a threat to national security. Losing him in Paraguay was a bitter disappointment.” The big brass looked at Dodger’s LT. “Get this one right.”
Fast Lane’s mouth tightened, but he never looked away.
The room started to clear, but 2-Stroke made a beeline for the sexy DEA agent. Agent Steele stopped and said something to Kelly, and Kelly nodded and left the room. They hugged a bit awkwardly as if they hadn’t seen each other in years. There was also an interesting development. 2-Stroke not only knew her, but he was sweet on her. Dodger couldn’t blame him, but it definitely took this babe off his radar.
She and 2-Stroke left, and Dodger noticed his teammate had left behind his notebook. He went to pick it up and his curiosity got the better of him. He flipped it open and surprise coursed through him. It wasn’t a journal, it was a sketchbook, filled with portraits, exquisite, finely detailed, expertly rendered portraits of all of them. But in the back pages were pictures of two men he didn’t recognize, and on the last page was a dead-on version of Agent Steele, but younger…a teenager, Dodger thought.
He couldn’t get over the artistry. Dodger had no idea 2-Stroke could draw like this. He headed for the cages just as 2-Stroke came back into the room, his expression showing his alarm at leaving the notebook behind.
“I was just—”
“I’ll take it, Dodger.”
“Neo. I was going to make sure you got it back.” He handed it over, and 2-Stroke accepted it. “Look, I won’t tell anyone.”
He shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”
He could tell 2-Stroke was downplaying his reaction to Dodger’s snooping. “I’m sorry. I’m a right curious wanker. Your secret is safe.”
“Good to know,” 2-Stroke said.
Dodger nodded. “Okay, mate. You got it. You know that we always have your back.”
“Copy that,” 2-Stroke said, then hurried down the hall.
Fast Lane materialized out of the shadows. “What was that about?”
“I have no idea. He seem off to you?”
“He obviously knows Agent Steele.”
“Yeah. He’s usually so steady and even,” Dodger said.
“I’ll talk to him.” Fast Lane’s expression got even more serious. “I need both of you with your heads in the game. We’re going into a city on an op that we need to get perfectly right.”
“Is your command of this team in jeopardy?”
“I fucked up in Paraguay and they aren’t happy. They could take me off the team and put me in administration. Truth be told, I’m running out of operating years. You know how that is. The Navy doesn’t like to keep their officers in the field.”
“I can’t imagine this team without you.”
“Well, we’re not there right now. Let’s focus on the things we can control.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Get ready to spin up. I’ll see you on the plane.”
Dodger went home to make sure everything was handled, and his apartment was in good order, then he went to the cages to get his gear situated for their trip. Mad Max and Saint were there.
“Hey,” they greeted him as he walked in.
Saint sauntered over and leaned his shoulder against the frame. “What’s up with Neo?”
Ever the vigilant doc of the team, Saint was always aware of their physical and mental health.
Dodger shrugged. “Maybe he’s on edge about the op.”
“He’s a rock when it comes to ops. Try again.”
“You are a right observant bastard, aren’t you?”
Saint chuckled. “Spill.”
“I don’t know,” Dodger said, not exactly lying, but he wasn’t going to mention the notebook or the babe. It was 2-Stroke’s business, and he’d promised.
“Okay. I’ll figure it out.”
Good luck with that. In his experience, when a guy wanted to keep his own counsel, especially in an alpha group like this team, he would deflect questions like Teflon. It was another testimony to their team dissonance that 2-Stroke wasn’t comfortable opening up about his past.
Dodger snorted. Like he could talk. He’d kept mum about his past too. He filled his team up with stories about his globetrotting, dazzled them with his ability to pull a rabbit out of his hat wherever they went, but when it got down to brass tacks, he was nothing but a withholding bastard too. He wasn’t sure what he was protecting. These men on his team were the best in the world. It made him sick to think about telling them about his mercenary days. He was ashamed of them. He was a different guy back then. He had to acknowledge that