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“Dude, get the fuck out.”
He spins around and rushes outside without looking back.
I hop over the counter and walk across the aisle to hang the golf club back up onto the wall where he got it. A quick glance around the empty shop tells me there were no witnesses to that little spat — either that or they all bailed the second he tried to hit me.
That’s Los Angeles for you. I ain’t seen nothing, officer.
Oh, well. It’s almost midnight anyway. Might as well close up and count the pennies I earned today selling old and used shit to the masses.
Tomorrow is Sunday. Sunday is my favorite day of the week. It’s my day off. It’s quiet. And best of all, debt collectors take the day off, too.
Twenty-four whole hours to myself. It’s all I have to look forward to every week.
And then it’s back to this dump I call my basement.
Chapter 2
Caleb
Then
“Fawn, you stay back.”
I nod and roll my eyes, thankfully hidden behind the shaded goggles on my head. “Yes, sir.”
It’s not the first time Sergeant Rhys has told me to keep to the rear in a potentially dangerous situation. Honestly, I don’t really blame him. Society is hardwired to protect women and children and I get that, but I signed up for this war just like every other man in my unit. By default, they are soldiers.
I have to prove it.
“Damn, you are seething right now…”
The soft chuckle beside me belongs to Fox Fitzpatrick, possibly the only friend I’ve made since I was shipped out to this damn desert.
“No, I’m not,” I say, steadying the tone of my voice.
Fox looks ahead at the sergeant to make sure he’s not watching and quickly raises his goggles up to scratch his nose. He squints his brown eyes to block the harsh sunlight above our heads. As he targets the stubborn itch, he accidentally wipes a bit of dirt on his clean-shaven, underwear model-like cheeks. At least the gritty look is in around these parts.
“Okay,” he says, grinning as he slides his goggles back into place over his eyes. “Yeah. Sure.”
“You’d think he’d let me take point,” I say. “I’m the one who noticed the damn signal in the first place.”
“Eh, you don’t know who could be in there,” Fox replies, resting his rifle on his shoulder. “Better to let them go in first to check it out.”
“Yeah, it’s a great strategy. Stick their best close-quarters combat soldier in the back with the sniper. That’s definitely how you win wars.”
He laughs again. “Seething…”
“Shut up.”
The five of us close in on the warehouse and Rhys signals us to stop. Fox readies his rifle in both hands while I keep my grip on mine.
“Fawn, Fitzpatrick,” Rhys says. “You two check the perimeter. Neutralize anyone who comes out — except us.”
“Yes, sir,” Fox and I reply in unison.
The three of them slowly push into the building with their heads down and guns up. A sting of jealously strikes me but I shake it off quickly. Maybe Fox is right. I have a better chance of going home again if I play it safe, but I didn’t exactly enlist in the United States Army to work on my tan.
Fox and I walk side-by-side around the warehouse. I switch to my sidearm while he scans the distance around us for any sign of movement. I peek around every corner we pass, each one revealing nothing at all.
