“I’m a trailblazer,” Eli countered.“Besides, it’s all going to the same place.”
They continued on, arguing over the superiority of different granola bars and the ethical ramifications of off-brand mac and cheese.It was mundane, pointless, and utterly normal.
And Marsh found himself relaxing.
It was ...nice.
That thought hit him like a truck.He wasn’t used to nice.Wasn’t used to normal.
They had just finished at the checkout, bags in a trolley Eli pushed beside him, and had just stepped out the exit heading to Marsh’s truck, when he felt rather than saw a shift in Eli.His shoulders went tight, and his steps slowed.Two men were approaching them on the sidewalk.
One tall, crisp, military-grade posture under civilian clothes that still screamed authority.The other was bulkier, clearly the muscle, with a flat expression and sunglasses that reflected the world back at anyone who looked at them.
The tall one stepped forward.
“Elias,” he said.
Eli inhaled, and Marsh saw a tremor roll through his body.All the color had drained from his face.His knuckles on both hands were white on the cart handle.
Marsh narrowed his eyes.“Friend of yours, Eli?”
The man ignored him.“I did not think I’d find you playing house in the middle of nowhere, Wyoming.”
Eli opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
Marsh wheeled forward slightly, sliding between Eli and the man.“That’s close enough.”
The man tilted his head, eyes assessing.“You must be the cripple Eli’s been brought in to fix.”
Marsh didn’t flinch.He leaned back in the chair, voice low and even.“And you must be the mistake no one had the balls to correct.Guess we both got scars.”
The man’s eyebrow arched.“Is that any way to speak to a superior officer?”
“I’m not in the service anymore and you sure as shit ain’t superior to me,” Marsh said calmly.“Which means I can talk to assholes like you however I damn well please.”
The second man stepped forward, just enough to loom.Marsh didn’t flinch.Instead, he rolled forward, inch by inch, letting the full weight of his stare land on the guy.Marsh might not be able to see behind the sunglasses but knew the big bastard could see the killer in his eyes.
The driver hesitated.Took half a step back.
That made the high-ranking officer—because that’s who the bastard clearly was—go red in the face with rage.
“You worthless piece of shit, get over here where you belong!”Then he lunged forward, reaching for Eli’s arm.
Big mistake.
Marsh’s hand snapped out, clamped around the man’s wrist, and twisted.
The man cursed, yanking his arm back as he almost dropped to his knees, fury crackling off him in waves.
“You don’t get to touch him,” Marsh said, voice low, dangerous.
“You boys lost?Or just real bad at reading the room?”A third voice cut through the air from the sidewalk behind them, casual as hell but loaded with warning.All heads turned in his direction.
Nick Jones, Pinedale’s sheriff and one of two husbands devoted to Sniper Team Bravo member Sam Wilson, a kick ass sniper and medic in his own right, stepped closer to them, hand resting casually on his belt.
Nick placed his hand on Marsh’s shoulder for a moment.“I wouldn’t piss this man off if I were you,” Nick said, eyes locked on the officer currently going an interesting shade of red.“He’s got a confirmed kill count that’d make your balls shrink.Even with one leg, he can outshoot most operatives with two, not to mention he’s a Pathfinder.So, unless you’re looking to end up on their shit list, I’d rethink your tone.”
The Colonel’s lips curled.“You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
