Hudson fell into step beside him. The base was already moving at full pace despite the early hour—vehicles, personnel, the distant thrum of something mechanical Hudson’s hands itched to be near. The air smelled of dust, diesel, and dry heat. A very Syrian-operating-base kind of odor.
“I could come in,” Hudson said. “Help out. I have a very broad skill set.”
“You’re banned from operational duties.”
“I could make coffee.”
Elliot stopped walking and turned to look at him. “Hudson.”
“All I’m saying?—”
“I know what you’re saying.” Elliot’s voice was patient but also annoyingly stern. “Find something to do that doesn’t involve my mission.”
“Our mission.”
“Mymission for the next four days.” Elliot held the door open, letting Hudson peek in. Hudson chose to interpret that as affectionate. “Now. Go away.”
The door closed.
Hudson stayed outside the operations room for a moment, hands in his pockets, surveying the base like a man who had nowhere to be but was very uncomfortable with the lack of purpose. His hands twitched.
He was about to do something truly desperate like volunteer for kitchen duty, when he spotted Martinez by the far side of the equipment building.
He was working through what seemed like a solo circuit in the narrow strip of shade the building threw across the ground, shirt dark with sweat.
Hudson steered toward him.
“You look like you’re having fun,” Hudson said, dropping onto a crate nearby. He picked up a weight and tested his wrist. Notthatbad, if he had to say so himself.
“Thought you were banned from working out.” Martinez didn’t break his rep.
“Okay,Mom.” He swapped the weight for a heavier one to prove his point. “Elliot just told me I was banned from the mission, too.”
“Elliot?” Martinez raised an eyebrow.
Hudson blinked. He hadn’t even noticed he called Elliot by his first name. His shoulders tensed. “Shaw, I mean.”
“Ah, yes. Shaw. What's the deal with him anyway? You keep following him around like a little puppy.”
“Shut up.”
“No, really. I wanna know. People say he’s crazy good. Is that true?”
“Yeah.” Butterflies swarmed his stomach.Jeez. “He is.”
Martinez studied his face, making Hudson’s cheeks burn. “Damn, Cap. You’ve got it bad.”
Hudson snorted—probably unconvincingly. “What? He’s cool. We’re friends.”
“Friends?”
“Yeah, friends. We met at Selection six years ago, and have kept in touch since. That’s all.”
“Right.” Martinez crouched down in search of the right weight. He had a stupid smile on his stupid face. “And tell me—where have you been sleeping for the last ten nights? I seem to have our quarters completely to myself.”
Hudson nearly dropped the weight he was turning around in his hands.
“I—” He caught Martinez’s gaze and realized therewas nothing but genuine interest and friendly amusement in his eyes. He sighed. “Fine. Yeah. It’s like that.”
