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“Untraceable,” Creed said. “Better than any sniper on a roof, or car bomb. Easier. Cheaper. Print it at home like Ethan was saying.”

“We could all start living underground,” Ethan said. “The Ukrainians do that quite a bit. But who wants to live that way? I a thousand percent respect and support Ukraine for their ability to stay alive with the Russian bear rearing up and swatting at them. But this technology might end up being worse than a nuclear bomb.”

“A nuke would be cataclysmic in the moment and for years, even decades on,” Suz said. “No one’s sending a nuke. The lasting damage to life and land is the deterrent—the nation would be rogue.”

“A pariah,” Jack said.

“Nah,” Gator said. “One goes off, they all go off, the world is gone.”

“Maybe,” Ethan said. “Personally, I’m not convinced that’s how things would shape up. What I think would happen is that a country would take the nuke hit without retaliation. The world would rally with sympathy and support. The one that hit that button? They’ll be sent back to the dark ages through isolation.” He spun his beer bottle, then took a swig. “When I was lying in bed listening to the bombs falling at night, what else was I to think about but the end days?”

“And what did you figure out?” Gator asked.

“That people can be complete shits online. They say things that they’d never ever say to someone’s face. They get their giggles from being cruel, and they can do it anonymously. Unmanned warfare does the same thing. It’s one thing to push a knife into someone when they’ve jumped you. It’s a world apart to toggle a joystick from fifty miles away.”

“We’ve been doing that for years,” Gator said.

“Not like what Russia’s doing,” Ethan said. “Those soldiers are going on human safaris for the fun of it.”

“Luckily, here in this area, drones operate under very strict permissions, and nothing within the fifteen nautical miles of the airport. Not even for wedding photography.” Jack said. “That makes D.C. a no-drone zone.”

“Speaking of D.C.” Suz said. “And pointedly changing the subject because this is very upsetting, Ethan, you were Special Forces, working with Jack’s SEAL team, Gator, and Creed’s Marine Raiders. You’d qualify for your own assessment with Iniquus. I know these guys would back you. You’re not interested?” She looked over to Creed. “Aren’t they putting together a new tactical K9 group?”

“Team Delta,” Creed said. “They are. We talked to Ethan about it.”

“I went through most of the process when I was signing Tango up with Cerberus Certified,” Ethan said. “I guess they need to make sure that it’s not just the dog, but the handler is also up to snuff.”

“We’ve got a reputation to uphold,” Ares said. “We can’t give a good dog to a shit handler.”

“Copy.” Ethan thought that made perfect sense.

“So you went through the paperwork?” Suz asked, rubbing her belly.

“They asked if I wanted to go through the whole deal to be considered. I wasn’t ready to commit to staying in the area. The military taught me to get itchy when I’m in any one place too long.”

“That would change if the right woman was in the picture.” Suz smiled. “How do I know there’s not? Jack said the woman you saved today went to the hospital for a checkup, but you didn’t.”

“I went yesterday. I figure I’m still good from that.” Ethan grinned. Suz was right. Most of the men he knew went to the doctor because it was easier than listening to their wives' worries—it was kinder to go than to leave their wives in distress.

People cared about Ethan; his brothers in this room had gone above and beyond for him, risked their lives for him. But other than his family, did anyone worry?

Outside, dogs started howling, and Tango lifted her head to listen.

They sounded like hounds.

“Two days in a row,” Suz stood up. “Jack said that the women looked exactly alike, which is strange. There’s got to be a reason for that. It’s too much of a coincidence not to be tied together." Suz rested her hand on the back of the chair. “While you guys talk about your mystery. I’m going to go see my babies and calm them down. Dick and Jane are probably making the neighbors angry with their noise.”

“Would they be better inside?” Ethan asked, wondering if his having Tango there was creating problems for her.

“I keep them away from the working dogs. They’re used to it and good where they are. They just want mamma to give them some attention. I’ll be right back.”

After she left, Ethan said. “I can’t say I disagree with her. Something ties the two attacks together. And it might not be that Piper and Amanda look alike. One interesting detail: the driver had his hoodie sleeve pushed up to his elbow, and he had a thick bandage on his right arm just above his wrist.”

“Trigger finger?” Creed asked. “It could have been a bite mark left by Princess Pancakes.”

“Stop,” Ethan said. “We’re not calling her that. She’s a fierce war dog.”

Chapter Twenty-Five