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ere?” Striker asked once they’d gotten their greeting out of the way.
“That’s my fault,” answered Merrigan without elaborating.
“We had a few days on our own,” explained Doc, causing his wife’s cheeks to pinken. “We turned our trip here into a mini-vacation.”
Striker really didn’t need or want any further information, so he excused himself, went to the breakfast buffet, filled a plate, and went to sit next to Monk. That way he wouldn’t have to hear an unnecessary side commentary about whatever it was that Doc was going to brief them on.
As he’d hoped, Doc started out by saying that given Gunner and Zary’s baby, a little girl they’d named Lia Orina, was only three months old, Gunner sent his regrets for missing the meeting.
“Mantis and Alegria’s baby boy was born last Tuesday. They named Ian after Mantis’ brother who, we all know, was killed on September 11.”
It didn’t matter that neither was at the meeting; the group applauded anyway.
Doc added that Mercer, who was married to Doc’s daughter, would be joining them at the next stage of the mission, which they were about to discuss, and finally, that Dutch was also on a leave of absence.
“I’m happy to report that both Ranger and Diesel have signed contracts with K19 Security Solutions, and while she isn’t here presently, Corazón has also signed a pilot contract.”
Doc looked at Onyx, who smiled and nodded. Striker wondered if he was happy to have an additional pilot on board, or if it was more that the pilot was a woman he’d been linked with romantically.
“What’s the status of Tackle’s and Halo’s offers?” asked Razor.
Doc looked at Merrigan. “They’ve been extended, and I’m waiting to hear back. We decided it was premature for them to attend this meeting.”
Striker was glad Razor had asked. Both Landry “Tackle” Sorenson and Knox “Halo” Clarkson had been part of his team since they joined the CIA. They were good men whom he still worked with occasionally as private contractors.
“Anyone else we should be discussing?” asked Razor, smirking.
“Not yet, asshole,” answered Doc, shooting a look back at him.
That spiked Striker’s curiosity. “Who else, Doc?”
“Copeland.”
Striker felt his blood pressure rising. Money McTiernan was Copeland’s boss at the CIA. It was bad enough that they were considering making him an offer. If K19 extended one to McTiernan, Striker would resign, effective immediately.
“Shouldn’t this be something the partners agree on prior to offers being extended?”
“I’ll answer,” said Merrigan. “Striker, I would agree if we were extending partnerships, but we aren’t any longer. The four men and one woman have all received offers of employment. As I’m the managing partner, I make those decisions.”
“Understood,” he responded, appreciating that she didn’t point out he’d only spoken up when he opposed the individual mentioned. He’d wait and ask her about McTiernan privately rather than put her on the spot in front of everyone. Although, if she said they were considering making the man any kind of offer, Striker still planned to walk.
“Anything else on team members?” asked Doc, looking around the room. “Moving on, our next topic of discussion should raise the heat level in the room—Abdul Ghafor.”
Striker had plenty to say on the subject, but he had no intention of doing so. He’d much rather get everyone else’s take on it first.
“We’ve confirmed he’s in Pakistan and that he’s stockpiling weapons,” said Razor.
“What about soldiers?” Doc asked.
“That’s the thing. There’s very little sign of feet on the ground.”
“Weapons mean money,” said Monk.
“Shit,” said Razor, clutching his chest. “Raise your damn hand or something when you do that.”
“What?”
“Talk.”
