Bloom nodded. “Kat has us scheduled for an UNCLASS meeting in the conference room at 0900, then the four of us—assuming Lang ever makes an appearance—”
“Are you shit-talking me, Bloom?” The gruff voice reached us seconds before a lanky, bearded guy with graying temples loomed in the doorway.
And I do mean loomed. His presence filled the room even before he entered it.
“Not a chance, Lang,” Bloom answered him. The humor was gone from his voice. “Good to work with you again.”
Lang stalked across the kitchen. “Lucky you.”
I raised my eyebrows. Bloom shrugged.
“Nice of you to join us,” Wheeler said.
I swear, the Aussie asshole would kick over a yellow jacket hive for shits and giggles.
Lang whirled around and stared him down, and I decided I’d have preferred a hundred angry wasps swarming us.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Lang snarled. “I was busy getting my ass shot at in a foreign country that shall remain nameless. And they were using real bullets, not the tranq darts HEAT lets you boys play with. Is that okay with you, or are we going to have a problem?”
Wheeler, to his credit, looked the same as ever. A little cocky, a little amused, a little stupid. I was begrudgingly starting to admit that that last one was for show, which was borne out by him agreeing with Lang and not throwing any more rocks at the bear. “No problem at all,” he answered.
That, somehow, left me as the focus of Lang’s attention. He pointed his full coffee mug at me. “You must be Li’s brother.”
“Yes.” I resisted the urge to say “sir,” because we didn’t have military ranks here, and he wasn’t the boss of me.
“She’s a tough act to follow.” He stared at me, and I swear the guy never blinked.
I took a page from Wheeler’s playbook and nodded my agreement. “I’ll do my best.”
“Hm.” He started walking away. “You’ll have to do better than that,” he tossed over his shoulder.
Outside the kitchen, he said, “Pasco.”
“Lang,” Pasco answered.
One person, at least, had been unscathed by close contact with our other logistician. Poor Bloom. Meeting Lang almost made me glad to be Wheeler’s partner.
Pasco entered the kitchen with a big smile on his face. “I see you’ve met Logan Lang, Hurricane L Squared, as we affectionately call him.”
“Behind his back,” Wheeler added.
I blew out a breath. “Wow, he’s going to be a joy for the next five weeks.”
The three men exchanged looks. I ignored them.
“Really?” Pasco pulled the empty glass carafe out of the coffeemaker. “I make breakfast every day for you ingrates, out of the kindness of my heart. The least you assholes could do is make a new pot of java when you empty it.” He opened a cupboard and pulled out a white coffee filter.
“Let me do that.” I walked over and took the filter from him.
“I’ve got it,” he said.
“Nope.” I pulled out the used filter and grounds from the top of the machine and dumped them in the trash. “I need to start earning my keep. Not to mention, I hear I have to do better.”
The second the words were out of my mouth, I knew I’d stepped in it. I turned to look at my teammates, who had fallen silent. I waited to see if any of them would rise to the unintentional bait.
Pasco was the one who cracked. “That’s whatshesaid.”
As I returned to setting up the coffeemaker, we all laughed, because when you’re brothers in arms, insults aren’t a put-down; they’re a love language. Although I wouldn’t swear that applied to Lang. In his case, I was pretty sure he just hated everyone’s fucking guts.
