The Player - By Rhonda Nelson Page 0,1
Major Brian Payne—who only went by his last name—didn’t do anything in half-baked, half-assed measures. He was a man you could count on to not only get the job done, but get it done right.
Guy McCann was a bit of a smart-ass with an endearing penchant for being able to bend a rule just shy of the breaking point, but with good enough instincts that he always landed on his feet. And Levinson…Well, Levinson had been the best of all three, and what he’d lacked he’d made up for in heart.
On their own they’d been formidable defenders of Uncle Sam—together they’d been lethal.
Naturally when the powers-that-be had heard rumors of their intent to leave, he’d been given strict instruction to prevent it. Garrett ran a finger over the flag attached to the topmost file. They’d inadvertently given him the power to do it, and yet, when it had come down to the nut-cutting, he’d been unable to follow through. Better to have them in his debt than have an unwilling unit too bent on leaving to be effective. Better a grateful man than a bitter soldier. If they were bound and determined to leave—and they were—then if he could wring one more mission, be it personal or professional, out of them, then he’d still be better off. Fortunately the brass above him had thought so as well.
“So what’s going to happen?” Guy asked. “How long is this going to hold us up?”
“That depends,” Garrett told them, leaning back in his chair.
Guy’s green gaze sharpened. “On what?”
“On whether or not you agree to my terms.”
The three of them stiffened and shared a guarded look. “Your terms?” Guy asked warily. A muscle ticked in his tense jaw.
At last…the heart of the matter, Garrett thought. “That’s right. You want out. We can do this one of two ways. The hard way…Or my way.”
Flanagan muttered a hot oath, leaned back and shoved a hand through his dark brown hair. “I knew this was going to happen,” he said, shooting Guy a dark look. “We’re so screwed.”
“Sonofabitch,” Guy muttered angrily.
Payne swallowed what was most likely a similar statement, but managed to hold his temper. Just barely, judging by the vein throbbing in his forehead. “And what, exactly, would your way entail?” he asked.
“Nothing complicated,” Garrett told them smoothly. “You’ll just owe me.”
“Owe you?” Guy repeated, with equal amounts of surprise and trepidation.
Jamie frowned, his hazel eyes wary. “Owe you what?”
Garrett shrugged, but his tone belied the casual gesture. “A favor.” He cast them all a steely look in turn. “From each of you. When I call it in, I want no questions asked, no excuses. Just do it.”
Guy considered him with a measuring, probing look. “That calls for a lot of trust.”
“I’ve worked with you for the past four years, McCann. It’s either there or it isn’t. The choice is yours.”
A beat slid into five while the three of them shared another one of those unspoken looks of communication. Garrett watched closely, but didn’t detect a single indication of yea or nay from any one of them. Yet Payne evidently got the message because it was he who ultimately spoke for the group. “One favor from each of us? That’s it?”
Garrett nodded, anticipation spiking.
Payne released an even breath. “Then we accept your terms, sir. We want out. If you can make that happen quickly, then a favor won’t be a problem.”
“Excellent,” Garrett told them, his lips curling into a belated smile. “Consider it done.”
The three stood, preparing to leave. Garrett found his feet as well and extended his hand to each of them, sealing their bargain with a handshake. An old-fashioned gesture, but one that was better than a contract with men like these. They were men of courage, dignity and honor. A rare breed in this day and age.
He let go a sigh, fully absorbing the fact that they would no longer be under his command and found himself quite startled to realize that he’d…miss them. He cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure.”
“Likewise, sir,” Flanagan told him.
“An honor,” McCann added.
A man of few words, Payne merely shot him a look which aptly conveyed the same sentiment, then added, “Until later, sir.”
Garrett felt a grin tug at his lips. “Oh, don’t worry,” he told them. “I’ll be in touch.”
“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT all about?” Guy asked as they made their way down the hall away from Garrett’s office.
“Leverage,” Jamie said grimly, feeling an immeasurable amount of relief regardless of the bargain he’d