They dropped to the ground together, their feet hitting the hard concrete at the same time. With his knee shot full of cortisone and his leg in a heavy-duty brace, Jamie didn’t need any time to adjust to being back on solid ground.
He grabbed an armload of gear being offloaded by Zander, and they made their way to the makeshift hub at the back corner of the tin building, nodding now and again to one of the armed strangers loitering about.
Dressed in various amounts and styles of military garb, the black ops team Grant had secured looked exactly the way a group of off-the-books assaulters would in the movies. All muscles, beards, neck gaiters, ball caps, guns, knives, Kevlar vests with pockets stuffed full of spare magazines, scuffed combat boots, and a don’t fuck with us vibe that was probably best to respect.
Except for the female. She wore an army green flight jacket, complete with aviator sunglasses dangling from a chest pocket, and a sidearm on her hip. Her thick brown braid tumbled in a mess of flyaway strands over her shoulder. And the battered scarf covering the lower half of her face had, without a doubt, seen more combat time than Jay ever would.
In other words, she was a badass, and she didn’t need to say or do anything for every person in the building to know it.
“Hey, tabarnak. It’s good to see you in the flesh, mon ami.”
Jay cranked his head in the direction of the greeting giver in time to see a squirrel-sized dude appear from behind one of the grizzly-sized operators. The optical illusion reminded him of a Russian nesting doll popping out of a much bigger one.
“JP, you motherfucker.” Grant and the man with the heavy French accent greeted each other with a back-smacking hug, the momentary embrace highlighting the size difference between the two. Short, skinny, and clean-shaven, JP didn’t look anything like a typical assaulter. “Good to see you too.”
“Glad you’re not dead, butt fuck.” The bigger man elbowed JP out of the way and crushed Grant in a bear hug that would’ve left a normal civilian with a cracked spine.
“That makes two of us,” Grant replied with a closed-fisted thump between the shoulder blades that told a wordless tale of kinship and camaraderie. “Where the fuck’s T-Two?” He shoved the other man off him and looked around the hangar for the missing person.
“Out securing a party raft. He’ll be back in a bit.”
The two Canadian assaulters exchanged a glance Grant missed, and with everyone in tow, they approached the temporary command post, consisting of a set of rectangular folding tables with peeling laminate, shoved together to form a square.
Already bowed under the weight of the computer equipment, radios, portable GPS devices, and the rest of the shit an elite military unit would need to plan for a covert op, the tables looked ready to collapse. And the old-school orange plastic assembly chairs, now streaked with dirt and grime, had definitely seen better days.
Didn’t matter. They had a job to do, and there’d be no complaints, not from Jay.
He found a vacant spot amid the chaos and set his computer down.
“Let’s start with a quick round of introductions,” Grant said, taking the lead. “Then we’ll unload the rest of our gear and get this shit show on the road. Sound good?” In the absence of objections, he began by pointing to Chase first. “This is Mac. Our CO, pilot, tactical planning genius, and the man who’ll oversee this mission.”
“Hey,” Chase said in greeting. “Thanks for joining us.”
“Next up, we have Texas Tink, short for Tinker Bell.”
Cody snorted and shot Grant a one-fingered fuck you across the circle of men. “Name’s Cody, fuck face.”
Grant huffed but didn’t miss a beat. “Don’t let his delicate appearance and sweet nature fool you. Tink’s our weapons expert, resident lover boy, and number one breacher. He’s the guy we stand behind when the bullets start flying.”
“You’re an idiot,” Cody grumbled.
“You love me anyway, sweetheart.”
“Only because I’m forced to.”
“Right.” Grant grinned and pointed toward Jamie. “Over here, we have our dynamic duo. Special Forceps medic, Goldilocks Doc, and standing beside him, our computer guru, Captain Techno Crunch, you can call him TC for short.”
“Jesus Christ,” Jamie groaned. “Who said you could pick our radio handles?”
“It’s an extra perk for organizing this awesome parade, Doc.” He clapped his hand down on Zander’s shoulder. “And last, but not least, this here is the Commander of Kaboom. EOD expert Z-man. He’s also in charge of logistics, so if you need anything, ask him first.”
Zander dipped his chin in greeting but otherwise kept any retorts to himself.
“For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Grant,” he continued, using his fake name and jerking his thumb at his chest. “I’m just here for a good time.” He didn’t even bother to offer his credentials.
A disappointment, because they were so fucking buried, not even Jay had been able to uncover his secrets.
“And guys.” On the other side of him, Grant knocked the back of his hand against his shorter buddy’s chest in advance of his last introduction. “This here is JP. He’s got over a decade of experience in covert operations, specializing in urban warfare and close-quarters combat. His record in completing successful missions is flawless, except for that one time in Syria, and he brings a wealth of skills and tactical knowledge to the table. He’s fucking crazy, his English sucks, and we’re lucky to have him. JP? You wanna take over and do the intros for your team?”
