"I know it was my fault," he admitted, his words full of gravel.
"So, that's what this is? You flew all the way from wherever you were to tell me it was your fault? Maybe apologize; hoping to get back together? You broke me, Dak. I spent two years of my life wondering if that morning would be your last while you were on the other side of the world fighting someone else's war."
"That's fair."
"I broke things off with you so I could start a new life and move on. I have a good thing going here. The last thing I need is you begging me to take you back. Because I have to tell you, it's not going to happen."
"I know."
Her brow furrowed, and the gun visibly sagged in her hand. "What do you mean? Why are you being so agreeable? No witty comeback? No snappy defense? And why do you smell like you haven't had a shower in three days?"
He raised his arm and took a whiff. It was appalling, though he'd become nose deaf to it.
"I haven't. So, if I could, I'd appreciate it. And second. No," he said, lowering his head for a long breath. "You're right about all of it. And it was unfair of me to do what I did. I know that now. While I don't regret serving my country—not much, anyway—I regret leaving you. If I could do it again, I might choose differently. I might not. But I'm not here to apologize, even though I am sorry for everything."
She hesitated. Her voice softened ever so slightly. "Then… why are you here?"
"I need your help," he said. Then added, "And I really need to use your bathroom."
Two
Ramstein Air Base
Bo Taylor stalked into the mess hall like a lion that just killed a gazelle for the pride. Most of the tables were empty, the base's occupants busy with their routine duties. Just days after Dak narrowly escaped the colonel’s clutches, Bo and his team were sent to Germany to prepare for their return to the United States.
He sat down at a table in the corner where his team sat in tenuous silence. They all wore their standard issue fatigues, as always, though they seemed to fit some of the men better than others, specifically Billy. The camouflaged clothing draped over his skinny frame like a muumuu on a coat hanger.
"You look happy," Carson said in his usual deep, throaty tone. The huge man looked like a warrior, his taut muscles nearly bursting through the fatigues at every seam.
"Why wouldn't I be?" Bo said.
"So, we're going home?" Luis asked. The shortest of the bunch sat in the corner, hunched over steepled fingers. The words came out amid a nervous apprehension.
"We're going wherever we want, boys," Bo said with a rap on the table. "You can go home, to a beach, whatever psycho farmhouse Nate wants to go to."
Billy snorted a laugh, but the accompanying smile vanished with a predatory glare from Nathan.
Something about Nathan Collier unnerved all the men in their team, even Bo from time to time. Their leader blew it off with a casual "at least he's on our side" attitude, but he didn't trust Collier. The man's quiet demeanor as he went about killing would have caused a serial killer's stomach to turn. There was a grimness to it, something both spiritual and terrifying all at once. It didn't help that he had a tattoo of the fabled reaper on his shoulder, complete with black robes flowing beyond bony, skeletal feet, a scythe whipping around for the harvest, and hollow eyes peering out above a toothy grin.
"So, they didn't find out about—" Luis Martinez stopped himself and looked around. Even though he was in the corner and could see the entire mess hall from his vantage point, paranoia gripped him tight.
Bo shook his head, both at the question and at Luis' naïvety, to even think about saying it out loud, and at the volume he'd been using.
Leaning in close, Bo lowered his own voice. "We're even getting medals," he said with a measure of humor. "We're heroes. And we're rich. We can go wherever we want, boys."
"Assuming we can move the goods," Nathan groused in his usual monotone.
Bo sighed in irritation, but he didn't push the man's buttons. "I have a guy who can move them. You don't have to worry about that. What you four do need to consider is being careful with how you spend your share. Don't be stupid and go blowing it all at a club," he cast a warning glance at Billy.
"Hey," Billy protested and threw up his hands.
Carson chuckled. "He has you pegged, kid."
"Like you're one to talk."
"Shut it," Bo snapped. "Once the deal is done with my guy, I'll contact you."
Nathan snorted derisively. "I don't think so."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Bo stiffened his spine and did his best to look insulted.
"We're just supposed to let you walk off with all our shares of the treasure and assume you'll bring us our cut?" Nathan held a razor-sharp knife in his hand and cut through a ripe Fuji apple with expert and insidious precision. He popped the sliver into his mouth and chewed, keeping his eyes on the fruit as he sliced another piece.
"I'm disappointed in your lack of trust, Nate, but if that's how you feel, you can come with me. All of you can." Bo did his best to play the role of the peacemaker. "I was just trying to make it easy for you."
"Thanks so much." Nathan's gravelly response sent a chill through Bo.
Truth was, Bo couldn't wait to get away from the creep. Just being in the same room with him, at this close proximity, made him uneasy.
"When is this deal going down, Bo?" Luis asked.
"Tonight?" Billy asked. "How is he getting
