I was too amped up to eat. “I’d feel better about this if I could go inside and keep an eye on her.”
“We’ve both been made,” Wheeler said.
In unison, we turned and looked at Bloom.
He shook his head. “Don’t look at me, man. I can’t go in there. I’d be way too susceptible to conversion.”
“You’ve been trained in advanced resistance techniques,” Wheeler reminded him.
“Sure, but these things always start with love bombing,” he said around a mouthful of pizza, which he then swallowed. He smiled. “And I’m a sucker for love bombing.”
“I don’t like her going in there alone,” I told him, ready to talk him into it.
“We’ve got that covered,” Kat said as she entered the room, followed by Lang.
At least, I thought it might be Lang. But the gruff, grizzled guy I’d only ever seen in dark jeans, blue or black T-shirts, and a weeks’ worth of scruff, was clean-shaven and dressed in khaki pants, a white button-down shirt, and a white pullover sweater with a thick band of red knitted around the V-shaped neckline. I was pretty sure my cousin had that exact outfit for her genitalia-less, male-representative doll. I like walking on unmaimed legs, so I didn’t mention it to Lang. But then I saw the shoes, and…
“Are those loafers?” Wheeler asked.
I stepped aside to give Lang a clear path toward him. I didn’t want to get caught in the line of fire.
“It’s business casual,” Bloom answered. “Our research showed it’s the most common thing for first-timers at these things to wear.”
“Should you be eating that in here?” Lang asked.
“I’m almost finished,” Bloom said.
“Bloom, you shouldn’t be eating that in here,” Kat told him.
“Yes, ma’am.” He left and walked back to the kitchen.
“It helps to tell, not ask,” she said. “It also helps to be the boss of all of you. Speaking of, we roll out in thirty minutes. Hayes, is Savannah ready?”
“She will be, “ I said. “She’s finishing up a telecon with her family.”
“Aw. Sweet. Lang, during the operation, you’ll be on her audio channel along with Pasco.”
“Roger that,” he said.
Kat headed to the kitchen. “Bloom, there’d better be at least one piece left for me.”
“I know how much tac ops hate to sit out of the action,” Lang told us, “but go do a few laps or something because the adrenaline in here is fucking choking me.” He pointed his finger at me, his hardened face a sharp contrast to his preppy-geek outfit. “And you, do not ask me if I’ve got this like youask your buddy here.” He jerked his thumb in Wheeler’s direction. “Because I’ve always got this, whateverthisis. Do you have any doubts about that?” He scowled more, which I wouldn’t have thought possible. “Are we going to have a problem?”
“No.” Once again, I bit back the urge to add a “sir” at the end of my answer.
But I wasn’t lying to appease Lang. I truly didn’t have a problem with it. Two weeks ago, I wouldn’t have trusted Savannah’s protection to a soul but Mai or me. Now, I would trust any one of these guys with the momentous task. For temporary colleagues, they were beginning to feel a hell of a lot like my team.
32
SAVANNAH
Istepped into the community center at ten minutes to six. I wore a blue-and-white patterned skirt, a white blouse, and a navy blue cardigan. The women who weren’t wearing a skirt and blouse with a sweater were wearing dark slacks and a blouse with a sweater. The men were dressed in some variation of khaki, gray, or black slacks and polo shirts or sweaters. In that way, it wasn’t much different from the dozens of networking and business mixer events I’d attended over the years.
I wondered how many of those had been sponsored by cults.
My first introduction to WCI had been through the odd all-day training weekend I’d cut short, but Devlin’s first exposure to them had been an information and welcome meeting like this one.
“Hello, welcome!” A tall, middle-aged woman with thick, dark hair wearing a navy blue skirt and white sweater, shook my hand. “I’m Deanna. You must be Savannah, Devlin’s friend.”
