looked around the homey kitchen, noting that Green had obviously been in there since pots and pans were on the drying rack. He was the only member of the team with any cooking skills, and he was good — really good.
Chad searched for leftovers and hit the jackpot when he opened the fridge and found a couple containers of salmon tartare. He needed to drop by some night Green was cooking. Though his wife was amazing, she certainly wasn’t a gourmet cook — but he’d never in a hundred million years tell her that.
As Chad was trying to decide whether to eat the leftovers or not, Sleep joined him, moving straight to the coffee pot. “Morning, Chug,” he said, looking bright-eyed and ready to take on the day. “I wouldn’t touch that if I were you.”
“Come on, Sleep, I’ll pay you a hundred dollars to take the blame for my gluttony this morning. I assume Green whipped this together, and no one wanted it because it was so disgusting, so I can do you all a favor and get rid of it . . . in my gut.”
Sleep laughed as he leaned back and took his first sip of coffee — the way this aromatic brew was supposed to be drunk. “Not a chance,” Sleep said. “That’s Smoke’s food. He was out all night on a mission, and you couldn’t pay me a hundred thousand dollars to get between that man and his food.” Then he got a sly smile on his lips. “However, I’ll pay you a thousand dollars right now to eat it, just to see the big man have a meltdown. He’s been up for thirty-six hours, hasn’t eaten in about fourteen, and just had a killer workout. He might eat you if you take his dinner.”
Chad laughed with him. “I’m not scared of Smoke. He might be big, but he’s a teddy bear — a very, very big teddy bear.”
Of course while Chad was saying this, he was also putting the lids back on the food, and sliding the containers into the refrigerator in the exact place they’d been. As he longingly looked at the food he muttered. “Of course, how would he even know the food was missing if he wasn’t here to see it?”
“What’s missing?” Smoke asked in Chad’s ear, making him jump out of his shoes.
“Dammit, Smoke!” Chad snapped, irritated he’d jumped about two feet in the air. He turned and faced Smoke. “You have got to stop sneaking up on people. You’re liable to give someone a heart attack. How a man your size can move at the speed of lightning without making a sound is eerie . . . and wrong. It’s just wrong.”
“What?” Smoke asked with a smirk as he dove into the fridge. “I just came in here for some breakfast.”
Chad rolled his eyes, then decided he was getting out of there. While Smoke pulled out the containers Chad had been drooling over, Chad poured himself his third cup of coffee, left the kitchen, and moved to the conference room.
Brackish was already in there firing up the electronics. “Morning,” Chad said as he sat.
“Mornin’, Chug,” Brackish said, barely glancing up for a fraction of a second before returning to his keyboard.
Brackish had worked his magic over the past few months. There wasn’t a single monitor not in use, presenting an information overload to the average person. Chad had thought this team would be phenomenal, but he’d underestimated them. They were better than the best. He wasn’t sure when they slept because they worked hard, played harder, and still managed to laugh a hell of a lot.
Over the next twenty minutes the team entered the room, Smoke being the last with his hands full of a tray loaded down with food. Chad’s stomach growled at the smells coming toward him. He couldn’t seem to get enough calories inside lately. Maybe it had to do with working out more than ever to make sure he could keep up with his team if he was needed — which so far, he hadn’t been. They were that efficient. But he was still going to be prepared.
The team members all grabbed some food from the tray and Chad smiled as they shot each other a few zingers while stuffing their mouths. They didn’t savor anything but ate as if each bite was their last, a leftover from their years in the service where they might not have time for a full meal for days