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Kane McNamara: I’m on it.

Thank fuck!

The shuttle arrived and he climbed aboard. It was standing room only.

He still didn’t have an answer when he got off the shuttle ten minutes later. He pulled up the map of the base again to get his bearings, then headed toward the command center.

Come on Kane, I’m counting on you. Come on.

Ryker was closing in on the command offices. He needed to show up to a warm contact. He saw the sign to the Men’s Room, and he took it. It was empty, so he went to the last stall and dropped trou, sat down, and stared at his phone praying that Kane would text him…soon.

Kane McNamara: Roger Eastman, Air Base Wing Command Chief, Chief Master Sgt. Two sources give thumbs up. Turkey country code +90, his number 202-555-0000. I’ve already called to expect you.

Kane was getting a bottle of bourbon for this. Didn’t matter that he was wealthy as shit, Ryker knew a guy. He hadn’t heard anyone come into the bathroom so he pulled up his pants, pushed out of the stall, and made the call.

“This Ryker McQueen?” a man answered.

“Chief Master Sargent?” Ryker asked.

“Whatcha need?”

“This is critical. I’m the scrounger for the Omega SEAL team. I have an assignment. I need a Navy service uniform, in size huge.”

“I need you to be more specific than that, sailor,” Eastman replied.

“XXL regular for the shirt, pants in-seam thirty-six.”

“What kind of insignia?”

“E-5, and lots of fruit salad, I know we can’t be particular on that.”

“Last name for nametag?”

“Drakos.”

“Got it. Where do I need to bring this?” Eastman asked.

Shit, I left before even finding out where my team was heading.

“I’ll text you. I’m not sure where my team is being briefed.”

“I have a couple of ideas. I’ll get you something.” The man sounded confident, so Ryker sighed a breath of relief.

“We need to take off to Batman, ASAP. We’ve got a private jet waiting.”

“I’ll drop everything. I’ll keep you updated on my progress.”

“I appreciate that, Chief,” Ryker said as somebody walked into the bathroom.

Ryker hightailed it out of the bathroom, texting all the way. Jase got back to him, telling him that the meeting was—Hallelujah—one building over from the command center! He texted Eastman the building and room number, then double-timed it to the meeting room. When he got there, he ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath, trying to look halfway normal before he entered the briefing room.

He made a beeline for the back of the room, knowing that’s where Jase would be, and sat down next to him. The guy standing in front of them, the guy who was supposed to be giving them a rundown of how things should be operating was…was…a lost cause. That was Ryker’s impression listening to him for a total of one and a half minutes.

“Tell me it’s been better than this, I’m begging you,” he whispered to Jase out of the corner of his mouth.

“It hasn’t,” Landon said from his other side.

Shit, if the guy wasn’t making it up to Landon’s standards, they had a real fucking problem. Ryker leaned in, his elbows on his knees, and really concentrated.