“If the senior leadership had given me a chance to recuperate from my injuries, I might’ve been able to stay. But without that support, I couldn’t have fought the doctors on my own.”
“You mean SEALs don’t know when to quit and have to be forcibly retired by medical experts? Color me shocked,” Chas commented.
Gunner rolled his eyes.
“Are you gonna take the job Spencer’s offering you?” Chas asked.
“I’m thinking about it.”
“Will it be dangerous work?”
“Sometimes.”
“More or less dangerous than being a SEAL?”
“Some of each. Most security jobs are less dangerous. But if they go bad, we would have less backup than a SEAL team would have.”
Chas fell silent at that. Silent enough that Gunner glanced over at him and asked, “What’s on your mind? You went quiet on me, and you’re the most talkative person I know.”
Chas made a face that made Gunner grin.
“I believe the phrase you’re looking for is ‘fuck off.’”
Chas smiled. “Fuck off, G.”
Gunner was aware that Chas hadn’t answered his question. The guy was definitely fretting about something, but he didn’t want to talk about it. On the teams, they didn’t usually sit around airing out their feelings. And if a guy didn’t want to talk, nobody forced him to, as long as he was able to do his job effectively.
They drove for nearly an hour in silence before Chas asked, “How long until the bad guys pick up our trail and we’re bait on a hook?”
“We figure they’ll show up not long after we use your credit card. We’ve got maybe a day of relative quiet.”
“Do we have to confront these guys?”
“We need to find out who they are and what they want with Poppy. If she’s ever going to be safe, we have to at least know who hired them.”
Chas sighed. “I’m secure enough in my manhood to admit that I’m a little scared.”
“Being scared is rational. I’d be worried if you weren’t scared. The trick is not to let fear get the best of you. Let it make you sharp. A little edgy. But don’t let it overwhelm you.”
“Easier said than done,” he admitted.
“Spencer and Drago are an hour behind us. They’ll set up surveillance on our hotel and never take their eyes off us. They’re two of the best operators in the business. You’re in good hands.”
“I still don’t like being using as bait.”
Gunner snorted. “I don’t like it either. Actually, I hate the idea of putting you in any danger whatsoever. The only reason I went along with this plan was because I knew you’d do pretty much anything to keep Poppy safe.”
Chas reached across the center console and laid a hand on his thigh.
Gunner reached down and squeezed his hand. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Chas.”
But when they checked into a motel in western Kentucky, his gut was uncharacteristically tight. Usually he went into ops as cool as a cucumber. He trusted his training and preparation implicitly. But Chas was a wild card.
He’d never run an op with a civilian in the middle of it before. Not to mention a civilian he did not want to see any harm come to. His SEAL teammates knew the risks anytime they went out in the field, as did he. But Chas—he hadn’t asked for any of this. He’d just been a Good Samaritan who picked up a baby and tried to keep her safe.
Gunner specifically asked for the room on the end of the old-fashioned strip motel whose rooms opened straight onto the parking lot. He backed the car into its space for a quick exit and scoped out the area behind the motel—a steep hill covered in thick brush, discarded trash, and plenty of tree cover—before entering the room. He removed the screen from the bathroom window and moved a nightstand into the bathroom for easy access to the high window. Only then did he relax a little.
“Okay. Why do we need a table next to the toilet?” Chas asked.
“To climb on so you can get out the window if we need an emergency exit.”
Chas swore under his breath. “And to think, I thought we got to relax tonight.”
“Ounce of prevention, remember? I just got a text that Spencer and Drago are pulling into town and will set up shop.”
“How close will they be to us?”
Gunner thought about the terrain outside. “Something like a hundred yards down the road. One of them may set up on the hill above the motel with a sniper rig.”
“Sniper? I thought the idea was to catch these guys alive.”
“We only need one of them alive to talk,” Gunner replied grimly.
Chas’s eyes widened. “You plan to kill them?”
“We plan to neutralize them. The hostiles themselves will determine whether that means they surrender or we take them out.”
Chas grimaced. “I hate violence. All violence.”
Gunner shrugged. “I see it as a necessary evil, to be avoided if possible and executed with maximum efficiency if not.”
“I never pictured you as a trained killer when we were growing up,” Chas commented.
Gunner dropped to the floor to do some push-ups and burpees. He badly needed to work out the kinks from sitting in a car all day. His back was achy tonight, and more of those ominous pinches of pain were starting to creep through. As he pumped out reps, he asked, “What did you picture me doing with my life?”
“When I was eight, I thought you’d make a good cowboy.”
“I hate riding horses. You have to have the right muscles for it; otherwise you get sore as hell and chafe in places you don’t want to think about.”
Chas laughed. “When we got a little older, I thought you’d be a good sports coach. You’re a natural leader.”
“Nah. I have no patience with people who don’t put out 100 percent effort. I would’ve been too tough a coach to be successful.”
Chas sat cross-legged on the bed and watched him work out. “What would you have done if you hadn’t become a SEAL?”
“I would’ve tried for the submarine corps.”
“I mean if you hadn’t joined the military at all?”
“Oh.” He rolled onto his back. “Sit on my feet while I do a few sit-ups, will you?”
Chas slid off the bed and knelt on both of his feet while grabbing Gunner’s ankles. Gunner commenced doing sit-ups. “I’d have gone to college if there was money for it.”
“What would you have studied?”
“History, maybe.”
“And done what with a history degree?”
“Teach college. Get people to think about links between the past and present. Challenge students to learn the lessons of our forbearers.”
Chas laughed. “I have trouble imagining you sitting in some book-filled office, wearing a cardigan sweater, with a pair of reading glasses perched on the end of your nose. I can see myself as that professor someday, but not you.”
Gunner grinned up at him without stopping.
“How many sit-ups are your planning to do?” Chas finally asked.
“As many as it takes to tire me out.”
“I can think of better ways to tire yourself out.”