Page 4 of Statler

Apparently, their new venture, once they’d begun working for Dark, had been a huge success, and West Coast had been operational for ten months by the time Dark approached Stat.

Out of necessity.

Dark had soon realized his operatives were spreading themselves too thin, and he needed a new division on the East Coast.

Hence, approaching Statler in Maine.

Stat had definitely been intrigued, but before he’d agreed to anything, he’d made one stipulation. His entire team had to be on board, or it was no deal.

Dark had been okay with that, and when Stat had called everyone together to listen to the General’s pitch, they’d all sounded off. As much as they loved construction in the private sector, they’d been getting a little bored.

This was the perfect fix.

Combining their building skills with covert, off-the-books operations had tickled everybody’s fancy, and within a few hours, they’d hashed out all the details.

Very generous details.

They’d been working for Dark, ever since.

Their only bone of contention?

The West Coast assholes, a real bunch of jokers, had already named the new division for which Stat and crew had signed on.

They’d chosen an acronym.

Surveil. Target. Undermine. Defeat. Secure.

STUDS.

CHAPTER ONE

“I miss Petula, even though it is much easier to plan these missions without worrying she might overhear.” Stat’s construction super, Blue, pouted as she glanced around at the group, ruefully. The entire team had just settled in to go over the intel for their newest job coming up.

Blue was the only female member of their team, and Stat felt bad that she’d lost her main wing-woman.

He commiserated. He missed his sister, too.

“I’m with you, Blue, but we should be cheering. She’s really happy.”

Blue nodded, and conjured a half-assed smile.

Yup. Petula had found a good man to love; one who treated her the way she deserved after all the trouble she’d seen in her life.

Between the murder of their parents, Pet’s subsequent and horrifying foster care situation that had unfolded when Statler had been in the Army, and then the recent death of their younger brother, Petula was owed some joy.

Statler squirmed in his chair. Thinking about Petula’s contentment made him realize he’d probably missed that boat. At the ripe old age of forty-one, other than his work and his team, his life was…empty.

He’d admit it. It was lonely living alone in his home these days. Even with his team nearby and on call twenty-four/seven, the house seemed incredibly quiet. Stat never thought he’d be the type to mind being solitary, but coffee in the mornings with no one to laugh with over the stupid sitcoms and singing shows Petula had favored? It was beginning to get old.

He might have to rethink his living situation when he got back from upstate Maine.

Maybe he’d get a dog.

Or not.

His constant traveling for work would make caring for an animal pretty much impossible, unless it was a really well-behaved one who could come with him and wouldn’t get in the way on a jobsite.

Right. Dream on.