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Graham disappearing to his cabin in the Rockies after he retired had left a hole in their lives.
Now he needed their help, and they’d dropped everything and come running. That’s what family did.
Inside the thrumming helicopter, Tai checked their surroundings through the snow as best he could as Bridger pushed forward on the collective sending the sleek machine toward the snow-covered ground.
Eyes on his instruments, Bridger grunted. “Good thing he didn’t hesitate. No one should take on a psycho like this Zhezhnov dude alone.”
“I second that. Crazy to find out old One Shot’s got a daughter, though,” Tai added. He still couldn’t believe it. He’d done the math a zillion times over the past couple hours. Even if the woman went to law school in her teens, she’d be at least close to his age. That meant Gunny had a kid the whole time Tai knew him.
And the man had never let on. Not once, through all the terrifying hours they’d spent in one dark hellhole or another shooting the breeze. Sharing confidences.
Like always, Bridger read his mind. “Maybe Gunny didn’t know about her.”
Tai squinted out at the snow. The possibility settled his mind. A little. “A fair point.”
“Right?” Bridger took his eyes off the instruments long enough to shoot Tai a long look. “Makes as much sense as anything.”
“Sure does.” Tai crossed his arms over his chest and sat with that. His old sniper instructor didn’t owe him anything, still, he hated the thought that there was something so important that Graham hadn’t shared.
He shifted in his seat until the shoulder harness dug into his traps, staring down at the clearing emerging from behind the snow. He could let this eat at him, spoiling a reunion with one of his most important mentors, or he could put the man’s surprising news aside and embrace the moment. Gunny needed them.
Tai grinned, anticipating the reunion. “Your guess is as good as mine. But we got the man’s six, anytime he calls.”
After dropping off the grid, their former shooting instructor Gunnery Sergeant Washington had become a ghost. Having him back in the op was a welcome blast from the past.
With Tai watching for obstructions, Bridger eased the helo toward the remote cabin nestled in the snow-covered pines.
“Hang on,” Bridger warned over the headset. “Ground’s hard to judge in this whiteout.”
Tai faked concern. “Careful now, bro, I bruise easy.”
Bridger’s mouth stretched in a wide grin. He snorted. “Such a delicate flower.” He flared the aircraft to land in a clearing flanked by towering evergreens. Rotor wash blasted fresh powder.
As the skids sank into the snow-covered clearing, the cabin door swung open, spilling light across the deck. Backlit in the doorway stood a tall, broad-shouldered silhouette that Tai would recognize anywhere — Graham Washington, “One Shot.” Their mentor, and friend.
Tai drank in the sight of his grizzled former instructor. The years had added a stoop to the man’s once ramrod-straight shoulders and creased his leathered face with new lines. But his slate-blue eyes were as sharp as ever beneath his peaked USMC cap as he scanned the trees, assessing the surroundings with a tactical eye.
Graham’s beard had grown thicker, now shot through with silver that matched the color of his closely shorn hair. But the set of his jaw was just as resolute as Tai remembered. Gunny still looked every inch the seasoned Marine. Age hadn’t softened him any. If anything, he seemed even more hardened, like weathered wood — a little rougher around the edges but more potent than ever.
Graham’s gaze locked with Tai’s through the windshield, his expression warming into a rare smile that crinkled the weathered skin around his eyes. Emotion cinched Tai’s throat for a moment before he tamped it down, focusing on the task at hand.
Graham needed their help, and they’d come running. Just like old times.
While Bridger waited, engine idling, Tai jumped out of the aircraft, plowing through knee-deep snow toward Graham. Some bonds time couldn’t erode.
Graham’s hand was solid and warm when they shook. “Tai. Good to see you, son.”
Tai raised his voice to be heard over the low growl of the helo. “You too, boss. It’s good you called in the experts. We got your six, anytime.”
Graham clasped Tai’s shoulder. “It’s been way too long.”
Tai clasped him back, cuffing him hard on the shoulder. “No doubt. What were you thinking?”
The man shook his head ruefully, dropping his gaze. “I wasn’t.”
Graham jutted his chin at the helo. “Appreciate you boys coming all this way on short notice.”
“No problem at all. The Good Lord knows we owe you a few saves.” Tai winced playfully. “I gotta say, your timing could be better, though. I had to leave a pot of stew on the stove. I hope it’s not overcooked.”
