Page 31 of Fixed Asset

Before I could stop myself, my eyes swept over Catarina’s vest, making sure she had an extra magazine. I noticed my knife clipped into the webbing at her upper left chest.

“Thief.”

“It’s not stealing if I told you I was taking it.”

Mason clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “I can already smell it in the air.”

“Smell what?” Fallon asked.

“Those two.” Mase jerked his head in my direction. “The sweet scent of their love is perfuming the air.”

Catarina’s nose crinkled, and she beat me to the comeback.

“Oh, I thought that was your ass gas. After all that chocolate, I thought it perfumed your flatulates.”

I covered my laugh with a cough. The others did not. They let it rip through the room.

Catarina looked at me with a smile and winked.

How was it possible the woman was so damn hot even talking about ass gas?

I looked around the thick natural landscape through my thermal fusion night vision. Gone were the days of the green hue. The lush green countryside was lit up in yellows, oranges, blues, pinks, and purples. Berta’s men patrolling the grounds glowed in yellow while the cooler environment blended out to purple. There was something to be said about the new technology, however, I still preferred the old-school white-phosphorous PVS-15s even with a shitty 40 percent field of view. What could I say? I didn’t like change.

“I haven’t pulled watch like this since I was five, playing Army commando in the backyard,” Mason mumbled next to me.

“You had an M4 strapped to your chest at five? Who raised you, the Mafia?”

“I meant boring.”

He wasn’t wrong. The last three hours were mind-numbingly boring. But boring meant no one was shooting at us and Cat was safely tucked away inside Berta’s compound guarding the women.

“Swear to God if you just jinxed—”

Automatic gunfire rang out.

“Bastard,” I grumbled and pulled my M4 up to the ready.

“It’s showtime.”

“There’s something wrong with you,” I returned.

More gunfire pierced the night.

“There’s a lot of somethings wrong with me. Probably stems from mommy issues. I wasn’t loved enough as a child.”

Under the teasing tone there was an underlying truth to that. In the months I’d been with the team, Mason had never opened up about anything personal. Out of all the men I worked with, Mason was the most closed off. He was also the first to crack a joke and lend a hand.

“Movement at eleven,” he called out. “Engaging.”

Mason’s double-tap was thankfully muffled by my ear pro.

I continued to scan my sector. Other than two of Berta’s men in the prone position, all was clear.

Mason popped off another round.

“You’re having all the fun,” I grumbled.

“Now who’s got something wrong with them?” Mase chuckled.