Clearly understanding she was being talked about in the same sentence with food involved, Elka eagerly danced on her front paws, her blade-shaped ears perked up.
“It's more than okay,” Dillon promised. “Thank you for doing that.”
Athena waved it aside like it was no big deal, setting the blue dog bowl in the raised stand that she'd placed beside the end spot on the bench where Dillon liked to sit.
Everyone sat and started dishing up, but Dillon looked to see where Nasa had pulled Pen aside to give him the present Ghost left them.
She watched Pen's eyes round in shock, and his hands shake a little as he took the case from Nasa, and the emotion that flashed across his face, raw and real, hit Dillon square in the chest. Pen nodded at whatever Nasa said before slipping out the side door with his phone in hand.
When Nasa came to sit beside her, she bumped her shoulder against his.
“What's special about a glass pen?”
“Wren is a glass artist,” he murmured in her ear, and immediately she understood what he'd meant whenNasa said it wasn't for him. “Pen has a whole collection of what Wren said were her reject pieces.
“After everything he's done to keep me from finding her, what he did to you to bring me that last message, I don't know why Ghost would allow Wren to get in contact with us, but there was a phone number on the note she left. Pen's calling now.”
“Wow,” Dillon breathed in disbelief.
Top thumped his fist on the table, forestalling any further questions she might have asked Nasa.
“Alright, we're all waiting to hear about your trip. What the hell happened?”
Dillon was fine letting Nasa take charge and tell the story of their unbelievable day, adding her two cents here and there.
When he got to the part about being shot in the back, Nasa brushed it off as though it was no big deal.
Dillon sat there, white-knuckling her grip on the knife she was using to cut the fist-sized meatballs in half, listening to the guys all chortle and stroke their cleverly disguised bulletproof vests, delighted to know they performed as advertised.
“I'm sure Dillon would have been happy to see you prove the efficacy of the Dragon Scales hung on a dummy in the yard versus finding you on the floor, presumably dead from a gunshot wound, Nasa,” Ripley announced tightly, looking sideways at Saint with a narrow glare of disapproval.
“I know I certainly could do without the memory of seeing Saint shot and bleeding out on the floor of my spa.”
Saint circled his arm around Ripley's shoulders to give her a squeeze. “Well, now you can rest easy knowing that won't happen again because I'm constantly wearing body armor that'll withstand everything but a grenade launcher.”
“Or a head shot!” Ruckus pointed out, failing to duck when the Ever hurled a bread roll at him.
He took it right in the forehead, fumbled, and nearly lost it to one of Athena's waiting pitbulls before making a recovery.
“Un. Helpful,” Ever declared, reaching out lightning fast to stop Lyon from throwing a little tomato. “You don't throw food. You're Monkey See, remember?”
Lyon heaved an overly dramatic sigh and rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mama, not Monkey Doo Doo. Do I get scales in my cut when I'm a brudder?”
Roar fielded that one, taking a wet washcloth previously prepared, to wipe the bright red marinara sauce off Lyon's face and hands.
“Sure. Right after you graduate high school and apply to be a Prospect, just like Gee and Ruckus did before they got patched in.”
Nasa's hand slipped over her thigh under the table, and she looked up to find him smiling softly. She'd bet money on Lyon getting something with dragon scales on it for his birthday.
“Okay, Bid Daddy.”
“And stop calling me Big Daddy,” Roar huffed. “It's weird.”
“I told you not to watch that movie with him,” Ever snapped.
Lyon frowned in adorable little kid confusion. “But you are bid, Daddy. Papa Top says you're builded like a brick shid house all duh time!”
Top laughed so hard he started violently coughing, and everyone close enough to him to offer assistance did so all at once.
When he caught his breath, Dillon saw the quick flash of embarrassment he covered up with dismissive anger.
“Judas Priest! Can't a guy hack up a lung without y'all losin' your ever lovin' minds? Fuck off, already. I'm fine! Get back to the story, Nasa.”
Nasa shrugged, the tension Dillon could feel thrumming through him in response to the blatantly obvious effects of Top's cancer, easing bit by bit.
“I haven't looked at the footage to see who she is yet, but the woman Ghost sent into the shelter to find the drive checked in the same day Dillon came here.
"Ghost said it was to keep me occupied with trying to figure out why, but it tracks that he didn't want to give Dillon any reason to go back to the shelter long enough for this other woman to do her search. He's a master of disguising the truth within little lies to make them easier to swallow.”
Raid grunted derisively at Nasa's description, “I gather there was something other than C-4 in the backpack?”
“A glass pen and a note.”
Ever's fork clattered to her plate, and her eyes were suspiciously bright.
“What did it say?” Ever asked, her voice tight and higher than normal.
Dillon looked around the table as everyone froze mid-motion, all of them staring at Nasa in shock.
Nasa shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and Dillon wasn't sure why. He hadn't told her what it said either. “'I want to come home, but I don't know if there's anything to come back to. He told me you never stopped looking for me. Is it true?' There was a phone number.”
“Did you call it?” Ever demanded, looking as though she was about to get up and take off running after Pen.
Nasa shook his head. “No. I got
