Fernandez pushed his tray toward the center of the table. “Hell no, Papi. I’m not eating this crap. It tastes like cardboard.”
Novak snorted into his coffee.
“Night duty tonight?” Reed asked Hudson.
“Yeah.”
“Damn. I'd take kitchen duty over night duty any day."
"Bullshit," Novak said. "You bitched about kitchen duty for three days straight just last week."
"I can complain about something and still prefer it to freezing to death."
Hudson loaded his fork, only half-listening. His eyes found Shaw three tables over—eating alone, calm and collected as always. Shaw raised his gaze, scanning the room, and Hudson looked away before their eyes met.
"Shaw ever eat with anyone?" Novak asked, following Hudson's gaze.
Hudson shrugged. "Haven't seen it."
"Guy's muy intenso," Fernandez said.
Hudson’s eyes found Shaw again. He was cutting his food into precise portions that almost made Hudson laugh. He’d be great in the bomb-squad. Someone walked past his table and greeted him, but Shaw didn't even look up.
"Hale." Reed snapped his fingers. "You still with us?"
Hudson returned his attention to him. "What?"
"Who are you paired with for night duty?"
His stomach turned over. "Shaw."
Reed grinned. "Of course you are.”
Night duty wasHudson’s idea of punishment. Boring, cold, and long as hell. Give him drills until his legs gave out, make him run until he puked, whatever. But this? Standing around in the freezing cold with nothing to do except walk the same stretch of fence over and over?
Yeah. That was torture.
And tonight, because the universe apparently had a lame sense of humor, he was stuck doing it with Shaw.
Game face on.
Hudson trudged toward him, smirking. "Guess we're becoming a thing."
Shaw didn't even look at him. Didn't sigh. Didn't do anything at all, which Hudson was starting to recognize as his version of acknowledgement.
Kowalski handed Hudson a flashlight and a radio. “Don’t use it unless you screw up. Walk the perimeter. Check the equipment. Don't fall asleep. Don't fuck around.”
Should be simple enough. His partner was Shaw, after all. Not much fucking around on his watch.
The cold hit the second they stepped outside, piercing and miserable. It had to be well below zero. Hudson's fingers were already turning numb inside his gloves, and they'd only been outside for a few minutes.
The perimeter stretched in front of them—a chain-link fence topped with razor wire, cutting a line through trees that looked like dark cutouts against the sky. It ran maybe eight hundred meters end to end—long enough that the first checkpoint disappeared into darkness between flashlight sweeps.
Hudson shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and fell into step beside Shaw. "Any preferences? East to west or west to east?"
Shaw answered without missing a beat. "East first."
"Aye aye, Captain.”
