With Luke’s help, the four of them had prepared something like a speech to convince as many fighters as possible to join them on such short notice, with no pay, and no guarantee that the mission wouldn’t be a waste of time. But they had failed to realize that the Ghosts’ decision to come over and talk didn’t mean they actually meant to help.
“We did not fail trying to catch the Commandos,” Skull had to raise his voice again to drown out the chatter. “We have worked out a strategy based on the data we’ve gathered, but we simply don’t have the kind of resources to cover all of Brooklyn. We need more eyes out there, and all you people will have to do is watch and report sightings of the Commandos. It’s our fighters that will take all the risks,” he explained, exasperated.
“But you don’t even know how they’ve abducted your men,” one of them objected. “How can you tell our families will be safe out there, if you don’t know what they’re capable of?”
Jane could read it in Skull’s eyes, the desire to strangle the man for ruining yet another attempt to persuade the Ghosts to help them. Skull’s dark gaze rested on the man’s face for too long, until he forced himself to look away, regaining his composure.
“You’re right, we don’t know what they’re capable of. What we do know is that none of our men have been abducted straight from the air,” he said, turning to look at the man. “And that the Commandos use tasers, not fucking lassoes.”
The man gulped and took a small step back. The room fell silent as Skull picked up a bottle of water and took an unhurried swig. He rolled up the sleeves of his black shirt, exposing two muscular, tattooed forearms, and shook his head.
“Why have you even come here, if you’re scared of a bunch of humans? Because that’s what we suspect they are. Don’t you realize that I can’t give you any guarantees?” His ebony eyes scanned the faces before him. “You just want to wait it out, because headquarters will take care of everything. Well, stop for a moment and think of what will happen if we don’t.”
Murmurs rippled through the room, and they were still not ready to say yes. To Jane’s surprise, it was Martin’s hand that rose slightly from where his arms were folded on his chest.
“Yes, Martin.” Skull’s gaze turned to Marco’s father.
Jane could see what Pain meant when she’d said that Martin was such a queen. His expression a mixture of arrogance and contempt, he gave Skull such an unpleasant look that Jane was surprised to see nothing but bemused annoyance in Skull’s eyes.
“We meant what we said over the phone,” Martin drawled, indicating the five men close to him with a gesture of his finger. “We’ll give you as many men as we can without disrupting the business. If that’s all, we’d rather wait outside.”
Skull nodded. “Sure. How many?”
Martin looked at the others over his shoulder, resting his gaze on a large bearded man with long blond hair. “How many, Thor?” Marco’s mischievous spark gleamed in Martin’s eyes.
The man glared at him. “The name’s Wolf,” he muttered before turning to Skull. “One hundred and twenty fighters.”
“One hundred and twenty,” Martin echoed with a lazy smirk.
“I heard him.” Skull’s flat stare bored into Martin. “I won’t hold you any longer.” He bent nearly double to scratch something on a piece of paper before him.
Martin glanced at Pain, turning to the exit.
Before he could take a step, the doors banged open. He jumped back as Peter strode in, dragging someone inside. A masked someone.
Everyone backed off. The girls exchanged baffled looks and darted to the center of the commotion.
“Night, gentlemen,” Peter greeted them as he lifted the Commando with one mighty arm and slammed his back down onto the conference table with a satisfying thud. He looked around, spotting a few grim-looking women. “Ladies,” he added with a disarming smile. His hand choked the man who sprawled on the table, twitching in convulsions.
“I apologize for not being here from the start, but as you can see, I’ve been otherwise engaged. I’m sure Skull has brought you up to speed.”
He let go of the unconscious Commando, stepping around the table to look at Skull’s sheet of paper. His eyes found the single digit there, and he clicked his tongue, but his expression remained pleasant. Disturbingly so.
Peter rubbed his hands as he stood next to Skull, his gear and weapons turning him into someone completely different from the man that usually met them in the office. “So, what have you decided while I was out?”
The Ghosts shuffled, no one willing to voice their worries now.
“You have our support,” Martin spoke up from the back of the room. He gestured at the five men around him.
“Yes, they were just leaving to go meet with their men on the roof,” Skull hinted, locking gazes with Martin. He was probably worried about Martin getting on Peter’s nerves, and consequently, having his head severed from his body in the middle of the office, which would not help the meeting.
Martin scoffed. “Not now, we ain’t going anywhere.”
He crossed the room back to the table and peered at the Commando, his scarred lips twitching in disgust. “Peter, I’m sorry to inform you, but it’s dead,” he stage-whispered, poking the man with his finger. “What use do we have for a dead piece of human meat?”
Peter’s eyes fixed Martin with a disappointed stare. “And I was hoping you’d forget your arrogance at home.”
Jane swallowed hard. Too much testosterone in this room.
Peter smacked the Commando’s face, making him splutter and sit
