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Somehow I knew all that.
“Give me a few minutes,” said Briggs. “I’ll call you in.”
Kyle threw one arm around Dakota and one arm around me. Ryan followed as he ushered us into the living room, where we all fell into our usual positions on our big, comfortable couch.
“Tough gig?” Kyle asked.
“Nah,” Dakota said, waving him off.
“Unless you count the run,” Ryan smirked. “Not sure Bradley’s doing a ten-five in the hundred meter anymore.”
Dakota bolted upright. “Oh no?” he challenged. “Wanna go outside and mark it off?”
Ryan shrugged. “I would, but it would only embarrass you. And you just got back. Maybe you should relax a little. Right now I think Kyle could beat you.”
I sat there smiling with Sarge’s chin in my lap. Scratching the place behind his ears he loved so much, while the guys continued their normal competitive banter. It was good to be home. Good to be surrounded by the beautifully paneled walls of our old Victorian, with every one of my gorgeous fiancés right here where they belonged.
Soon the light went out of the sky, and Ryan started a fire. I stared down as the orange light was caught by the diamonds of my rings. It flickered wildly between the facets, mesmerizing me, drawing me into an introspective trance as I wondered what came next.
I knew of course, and I couldn’t wait. Still, a big part of our future was now uncertain. A part I couldn’t control. A part that might prevent me from giving the guys something they desperately wanted. And of course, something I wanted too…
“Markus is here,” Jason announced, poking his head in from the other room.
I hadn’t even seen him come in. One minute I’d been staring at the fire dancing in my rings, and the next everyone was getting up, moving into the kitchen. It left me alone, sitting there with Sarge. Then Kyle reached back, holding his hand out to me.
“It’s time,” he smiled. “Come.”
Fifty-Three
SAMMARA
The screen blinked once as the beeping stopped. An image appeared; a white-haired man with a grey mustache, squinting back at us from some dimly-lit room. Music played softly in the background. Maybe classical, it was hard to tell.
“Hello Colonel.”
The man squinted even harder before moving off-screen. He returned wearing a pair of wire-rimmed glasses.
Almost instantly his eyes went wide.
“B—Briggs?”
“Yes Colonel,” Jason said calmly. “And also Bradley. And Dunham. And Murphy.”
Colonel Goddard couldn’t have looked more uncomfortable if he’d just sat on a cactus. He leaned back a bit, and I saw a definite shift in his body language. It went from curious to defensive.
“You’re calling me at home?” the Colonel asked indignantly. “On my private line?”
“Yes.”
The man actually guffawed. “Whatever this is, it couldn’t wait until—”
“If this is inconvenient for you,” Jason said nonchalantly, “just imagine how inconvenient things have been for me. Stuck in Anbar for the past few months. Caged like an animal, on your orders.”
Colonel Goddard’s eyebrows knit together in anger. Trying to look as furious as possible, he even pointed a finger at the screen.
“Let’s stop the manufactured outrage,” Jason jumped in, before the man could say anything else. “You know what you did. Moreover, we know what you did — all of us. As well as what you’re still planning to do.”
Goddard laughed, but it was unconvincing. Despite the front he was putting up, he was clearly rattled.
