“Shit—what happened?”
“I don’t know, sir. We lost contact two seconds ago with Hollywood. I’m still trying to regain communication. All I know is the team of six, including the package, is on the move but silent.”
“Right—well, keep me informed. Henry, you’re with me. I need you in the interrogation room to interview the professor. He can provide valuable intel concerning the Padre, and apparently the man wants to talk. Are you ready?”
At the dinner party, the young man’s admission of Krav Maga training surprised him. Before this pup went on assignment, he would need to train hard twenty-four seven with the team. He needed to bulk up. He was a skinny kid in glasses, about as unsuspecting as one could imagine a field operative to be, but for his own safety, he needed to be prepared. It would be a high-risk mission.
“As ready as I can be, sir.”
Marcus eyed the fresh-faced youth. After the disastrous dinner party two days ago, he didn’t know how Henry would react to him. As far as Jake was concerned, he knew the man had his back. As for Henry, the kid didn’t say much. Ella had every right to be pissed. Even though she didn’t realize he hadn’t performed the entire ritual to gain her control. He gave up the next morning, because Ella didn’t mention her brother or the need to leave. Asking her to forget about her brother appeared to be enough. He never wanted a woman who would pander to his every need or be a slave at his beck and call.
Marcus loved Ella for her strength and admired her resilience. Of course, he also loved how at ease she was about her gorgeous body, and her sexual appetite matched the intensity and need of his. He thanked his lucky stars every day to be with a woman such as Ella. She was his soul-mate, even if right now she didn’t want him around. But they were different sides of the same coin. Only…he had been scared.
Jeez. He rubbed his stiff neck. Inside, his gut burned—maybe he had an ulcer, but he suspected it was the loss of his mate. He needed to regain some clarity and focus. Being distracted about Ella like a lovesick kid wouldn’t help anyone. He would make it up to her, and accept whatever she threw at him—for now. He would pay whatever price she asked of him because there was no tomorrow without her.
“Right, Kid, come on. Let’s go and talk to this bastard, and see what he has to say.”
“Yes, sir, but I’m not a kid, sir.”
Marcus examined the young man and cracked his back. Today would be a long day and at this rate, he would need an infusion of caffeine to get through it.
“Look, Kid, each member of my team gets a nickname. Some acquired them because well, it’s fucking obvious. Hollywood, for instance. No matter what situation he’s in, always looks like a movie star. There’s Bullet, because the man is as fast as a…get it?”
“Right, sir—but Kid? I’m twenty-six.” Henry pushed his glasses back up his slim nose, looking too wet behind his ears for his own good.
Did this meek kid realize what he faced?
“I don’t care how old you fucking are. You’re new to this team and you have zero experience here. You’re Kid in this squad. Get used to it. Any problem with that?” he barked, needing him to understand right now how this chain of command worked. This wasn’t a game. It was life and death. Giving team members nicknames brought the team closer. Made them bond like brothers. Even though they were no longer in the SEALs, he ran the teams—as did Steel—as if they still were. These men would die for one another.
“No, sir.” Henry stood back and looked over at the men who stopped what they were doing to watch the scene.
Marcus placed his mug on the table and folded his arms. “Take a good look at each and every man. Get to know their nicknames. Over the coming weeks, you will train with them, eat with them, and they will interrogate you about your undercover role until you know it inside out. Out in the field, they are your technical support on the ground. We will have eyes on you twenty-four seven. We are family, and together we will do all we can to ensure you don’t end up dead, Kid. Do you hear me?”
Henry whipped his head back around at the last few sentences and nodded.
“You are not going into this mission Kamikaze style. I want you back in one piece. Let’s go.”
Marcus picked up his mug and headed for the Keurig, filling it to the brim. After, he collected the thick manila file on his desk and headed out the door with Henry on his tail. Outside the ops room, he marched down the empty hallway and took a sharp left, nodding at a tall man with a buzz cut dressed in military-style black top and pants with a gun holstered at his waist.
“Any problems with our guest?” Marcus asked.
“He says he’s hungry and wants some breakfast, sir.”
“Okay—well, go to the kitchen and get Milly to whip up the works, as well as coffee. Being hungry will only make him resentful. We want to butter him up and get him to talk. Thanks, Butcher.”
“Right on it, sir.”
Marcus glanced over at Henry, who stared at the tall muscular man before facing him and he swallowed. When Butcher moved off, Kid stepped closer.
“Butcher—because he hacked his enemies in the field with a knife?”
Marcus folded his arms and forced himself not to smirk. “Nope. Before he joined the SEALs, he worked as a butcher.”
The younger man huffed and smiled. Marcus keyed in the security code, walked into the stark ten-by-ten room, and
