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Jules watched Ash and the others leave. Part of her wanted to be in on the action, but another part was satisfied to stay behind. Ash trusted her to watch Jazz’s back. That meant something.
“You need me to help with anything?” Jules asked. She wasn’t the most tech-savvy person, but she figured she could press whatever keys Jazz told her to press.
“I’m good. Just keep watch.”
Doing just that, Jules went to the small window overlooking the grounds. While a part of her focused on looking for threats, her mind reviewed the last half hour. The ease with which the op had gone so far was hard to comprehend. She had been on enough missions of her own to recognize the extreme professionalism and skill of the operatives. Each knew his or her job. There was no questioning, no pulling rank. There was mutual respect, mutual trust.
“Okay,” Jazz announced behind her. “All comms are down. Other than our team, no one can call in or out.”
Glancing over her shoulder, she noted the gleam in Jazz’s eyes. The look of a person who knew she’d done good.
“Is it always like this?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Quiet. Smooth. The way the team took out the comms people was as silent and efficient as any I’ve ever seen.”
Jazz gave an abrupt laugh, then grabbed her right side and winced. “I wish. But sometimes, yeah. It’s smooth and quick. Other times, not so much. Predicting what people will do when they’re in a panic isn’t always easy.”
“You were hurt on your last op?”
Another wince crossed the other woman’s face, but Jules didn’t think it was from pain.
“Yeah,” she said. “You could say that.”
“Mind talking about it?”
“I can’t give you any details. You don’t have the clearance for that yet. But I can say we were in Africa dealing with a group of extremists. I happened to get in the way of one who thought jumping off a cliff would be a good way to go out. Unfortunately, he took me with him.”
“How on earth did you survive?”
“About halfway down, I managed to shake loose of the guy. A tree branch was sticking out of the side of the cliff. I grabbed on to it. He kept going, and I slammed down onto a rock that was jutting out.”
“When did that happen?”
“About four months ago.”
“How badly were you hurt?”
“A few broken ribs, punctured lung. You know the drill.”
Just in the short conversation, Jules had learned quite a bit about Jazz McAlister. First, the woman was incredibly brave. To have survived what had likely been life-threatening injuries took strength and courage. And no way was she healthy or fully recovered from her injuries, but she was obviously determined to keep working. That took focus and a deep commitment.
To ease the defensive look lingering on Jazz’s expressive face, Jules inclined her head toward one of the blank monitors. “Are all OZ operatives as technically savvy as you are?”
Jazz eyes twinkled with amusement. It struck Jules then that Jasmine McAlister was actually quite lovely. She wore almost no makeup and could easily pass as a teenager if she wanted. Jules got the feeling that Jazz purposely hid her beauty.
“Serena is our tech and communications leader. She has a group of five that work directly under her.”
“But she’s an operative, too?”
“Yes. She and Sean work well together,
so when the entire team is on an op, she usually joins us. The rest of us have adequate tech skills. Well, except for Xavier.” Her smile grew wider as her eyes softened. “He can barely work a toaster.”
Just like that, Jules saw something else. Something Jazz would most definitely deny. She was in love with Xavier Quinn.
