there, and to help souls of gold like you to stay safe. To make sure innocents stay living and breathing so they can see what freedom is really like.” The clacking of a keyboard carried through the line. “I’m sending an e-mail to an old friend. Now, how do you plan to get back to the base?”
“I …” She searched for a plausible excuse.
“I know your mother’s brother. He won’t let you out of his sight if he can help it.”
“I’ll talk—”
“Hafizah will be your best option.”
“Yes,” Zahrah said with a smile, as if he’d read her thoughts. “I’ll … Rashid.” She smiled bigger. “I’ll try to see him tomorrow. They wouldn’t let anyone see him today. I just have to find a way to keep Fekiria from going with me.”
“Good. Good. Work on it. Hafizah will believe that about visiting the boy. Check in with the family, too. That’ll buy charity points with locals.”
“Daddy,” she hissed. “I’m not buying points. I love these people. They were Mom’s people.”
“I know. I’m just—”
“Thinking like a general again.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He chuckled. “You can take the dog out of the fight, but you can’t take the fight out of the dog. Even one as old as me.”
“That’s because you’re a sheepdog.”
“Hooah.”
“I love you, Daddy.”
“Love you too, Z-Baby. Take care. Talk to Captain Watters. Give him all you got.”
CHAPTER 8
Sub-base Schwarzburg, Camp Marmal
Mazar-e Sharif, Balkh Province
28 May—1845 Hours
F resh from a workout and shower, Dean sat on one of the leather sofas before the flat-screen TV on the wall at the USO center. Images moved across the display, but his mind had already vanished into the past. He should e-mail Desi.
And say what?
Didn’t matter. It’d been too long since they talked.
Way too long
. She’d lecture him about dropping off the face of the earth.
Like he needed more guilt.
A shout snapped his attention to the partially walled-in area beneath the rec deck, where two tables offered a friendly game of pool. Emphasis on
friendly
. Which was the opposite of Hawk’s angry, twisted face.
Dean came out of his seat.
Hawk shoved a specialist. “Get off. If you can’t play without cheating—”
“I ain’t cheating!”
Closing the distance in a half-dozen long strides, Dean noted Falcon moving in, too. “Hey.” Dean pressed a hand to Hawk’s chest. “Stand down.”
“Sorry, sir,” the specialist muttered. “He said I was cheating, and I can’t take that sitting down.”
Dean pointed the young kid, who couldn’t be more than nineteen, away from the tables. “Grab a soda or something.”
“But sir, this is my game. I signed up for this hour.”
“Hey, didn’t you hear the captain?” Hawk growled.
Dean rounded on Hawk. “
Sergeant
. A talk. Outside.”
Fury lit Hawk’s eyes and rippled through the guy’s entire body.
“I think it’d be wise to listen to our commander,” Falcon said, using his presence to push Hawk out of the situation. “Now, Sergeant Bledsoe.”
Hawk thrust a finger at the Spec-4. “Don’t let me see you—”
As Dean turned away, Hawk’s entire demeanor shifted. And Dean knew the Spec-4 had given Hawk a one-fingered salute. Hawk lunged.
Dean did, too. He rammed his shoulder into Hawk’s pec. “No!”
Falcon hooked an arm up and over Hawk’s shoulder, dragging him backward. Boots squeaked against the floor as they herded him out of the room. Something about crowds and competitive sports brought out the worst in the top-notch operator.
The door to the USO building flung open. Hit the wall. Flapped back.
Hawk kicked it. Spun around. “You see what he did to me? And you’re going to treat me—”
Dean stepped into Bledsoe’s personal space. “One more incident, Bledsoe, and I’m writing you up myself.”
“You gotta be—”
“So help me.”
“But—”
“You’re one of the best soldiers I know, but you walk into a place and pick a
“I …” She searched for a plausible excuse.
“I know your mother’s brother. He won’t let you out of his sight if he can help it.”
“I’ll talk—”
“Hafizah will be your best option.”
“Yes,” Zahrah said with a smile, as if he’d read her thoughts. “I’ll … Rashid.” She smiled bigger. “I’ll try to see him tomorrow. They wouldn’t let anyone see him today. I just have to find a way to keep Fekiria from going with me.”
“Good. Good. Work on it. Hafizah will believe that about visiting the boy. Check in with the family, too. That’ll buy charity points with locals.”
“Daddy,” she hissed. “I’m not buying points. I love these people. They were Mom’s people.”
“I know. I’m just—”
“Thinking like a general again.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He chuckled. “You can take the dog out of the fight, but you can’t take the fight out of the dog. Even one as old as me.”
“That’s because you’re a sheepdog.”
“Hooah.”
“I love you, Daddy.”
“Love you too, Z-Baby. Take care. Talk to Captain Watters. Give him all you got.”
CHAPTER 8
Sub-base Schwarzburg, Camp Marmal
Mazar-e Sharif, Balkh Province
28 May—1845 Hours
F resh from a workout and shower, Dean sat on one of the leather sofas before the flat-screen TV on the wall at the USO center. Images moved across the display, but his mind had already vanished into the past. He should e-mail Desi.
And say what?
Didn’t matter. It’d been too long since they talked.
Way too long
. She’d lecture him about dropping off the face of the earth.
Like he needed more guilt.
A shout snapped his attention to the partially walled-in area beneath the rec deck, where two tables offered a friendly game of pool. Emphasis on
friendly
. Which was the opposite of Hawk’s angry, twisted face.
Dean came out of his seat.
Hawk shoved a specialist. “Get off. If you can’t play without cheating—”
“I ain’t cheating!”
Closing the distance in a half-dozen long strides, Dean noted Falcon moving in, too. “Hey.” Dean pressed a hand to Hawk’s chest. “Stand down.”
“Sorry, sir,” the specialist muttered. “He said I was cheating, and I can’t take that sitting down.”
Dean pointed the young kid, who couldn’t be more than nineteen, away from the tables. “Grab a soda or something.”
“But sir, this is my game. I signed up for this hour.”
“Hey, didn’t you hear the captain?” Hawk growled.
Dean rounded on Hawk. “
Sergeant
. A talk. Outside.”
Fury lit Hawk’s eyes and rippled through the guy’s entire body.
“I think it’d be wise to listen to our commander,” Falcon said, using his presence to push Hawk out of the situation. “Now, Sergeant Bledsoe.”
Hawk thrust a finger at the Spec-4. “Don’t let me see you—”
As Dean turned away, Hawk’s entire demeanor shifted. And Dean knew the Spec-4 had given Hawk a one-fingered salute. Hawk lunged.
Dean did, too. He rammed his shoulder into Hawk’s pec. “No!”
Falcon hooked an arm up and over Hawk’s shoulder, dragging him backward. Boots squeaked against the floor as they herded him out of the room. Something about crowds and competitive sports brought out the worst in the top-notch operator.
The door to the USO building flung open. Hit the wall. Flapped back.
Hawk kicked it. Spun around. “You see what he did to me? And you’re going to treat me—”
Dean stepped into Bledsoe’s personal space. “One more incident, Bledsoe, and I’m writing you up myself.”
“You gotta be—”
“So help me.”
“But—”
“You’re one of the best soldiers I know, but you walk into a place and pick a
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