“Harry didn’t say anything about her remaining in Prague.” She pulled out her phone. “Let me make some calls.”
Striker leaned forward, lowering his voice. “I don’t know about you guys, but I say we do our own secret recon before we go into another situation off CIA intel.”
“That’s a good suggestion,” Fast Lane said. “I don’t want to get blindsided again.” He touched his temple.
Chry hung up and turned back toward the conference table. “Harry said that he sent Kelly back to DC. He put her on the plane himself. She couldn’t have been there last night.”
He must be losing it. “I must have been mistaken.”
The meeting broke up and his brother came over to him. “You want to blow off some steam?”
“Sure. What did you have in mind?”
“Gun range.”
“Yeah.”
In the car, 2-Stroke said, “You need to tone down your condescending attitude, Dean. We’re not your team. This is my place, my team you’re messing with, and we’ve got enough internal issues to deal with without you acting like we’re inferior.”
“We’re all in this goatfuck together, but it’s unconventional what you guys are doing and covering up. But I get it. I’m just worried about you, Neo, conflicted.”
“Like you guys at DEVGRU don’t do anything unconventional.”
Dean chuckled. “I guess it’s okay when we do it. We don’t ask permission. Your LT does have some brass ones. I’ll give him that. He is a good leader. He puts the team first.”
“Then stop busting our balls.”
“Hey, what’s the fun in that, little bro.”
“Dean, you’re such an asshole.”
They chuckled and arrived at the range.
Twenty-five yards downrange, he could see the target silhouette clearly. He had his Glock 17 already out of its case. He’d customized the weapon himself. He’d replaced the plastic sights with metal ones with a ninety-degree cut so that he could manipulate the sidearm with one hand if he needed to. His brother was next to him on the open range.
2-Stroke was fatigued but still working at getting the adrenaline from the firefight out of his system. This usually relaxed him enough to sleep. He went through three magazines and couldn’t seem to get the image of Kelly Sparks sitting in that van out of his mind. He could have sworn the woman was her.
Again, he wondered if his past and the boy’s shooting was making him less effective. A SEAL didn’t whine and complain about his ability to carry out missions. He’d always managed his past, his current duty, and he would handle the death of that nine-year-old boy who had died when he’d killed that tango during the ambush.
He set the safety, waited until the range was clear, and walked down to his target. Nicely grouped headshots and upper chest clusters showed him he hadn’t lost his touch when it came to hitting a target.
There was one thing he wasn’t dealing with as effectively. He’d been off balance since Chry had shown up. He should have handled the situation better. His fault for even entertaining the thoughts generated from his memories of her.
Foolish, impulsive, dangerous.
He adjusted the safety goggles and ear protectors and reached for the pistol. The smooth stock fit easily against his palm. His thumb slid into the curved rest. A full mag and a clean target.
He racked the slide and took aim, then emptied the magazine into the target. The Glock 17 was reliable and easily maintained. With the constant exposure to saltwater and being dragged through mud and dirt, SEALs put their weapons through hell.
“That’s some beautiful shooting,” Chry said from his right elbow, her voice muffled from his headset. He turned to find her, ear coverings and goggles in place. He pulled his off and set them down on the table along with the secured weapon.
“Hey,” he said, looking over at Striker. He was busy working the range. “Did you come to get in some practice?”
She stepped closer, and the scent of her sun-warmed skin distracted him. Before he could stop himself, he breathed deep of her fragrance, taking it inside, where it circulated through his lungs, his blood, became an aching part of him.
“No, I came to talk to you. Are you positive you saw Kelly?”
Suddenly so weary he could barely keep his eyes open, he leaned back against the table. “Why? Are you still on her case? Still investigating her?” He didn’t know why, but he got the feeling Kelly was dangerous in more ways than one. Her suspected betrayal of the team was an open wound.