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QUINN
It should’ve seemed strange, sitting around the breakfast table after what amounted to the most insane night of my life. One that had seen such incredible highs and shocking lows, not to mention one that probed uncharted emotional depths, as well.
But damn, Ireallyloved bacon.
A shower and coffee had helped me greet the sunrise, but with each passing hour my body reminded me of recent events. Muscles I never even knew I had still ached, and my poor shredded feet felt like they were on fire. I was physically tired. Emotionally drained. Oh yeah, and my face looked like I’d spent six or eight rounds in the ring with a UFC fighter.
For the past fifteen minutes we’d sat in relative silence, enjoying the spread of food the guys had whipped up for breakfast. They’d gone all out this time: pancakes, sausage, eggs, bacon and toast… even something that looked vaguely like hash browns, that Evan was calling ‘breakfast potatoes.’
“So that guy who crashed our little party last night…” I said finally, trying to inject some humor to break the ice. “The uhh, warlord sent him?”
“Ferrera,” Cole nodded. “And yes.”
“Which one of you roughed him up before he got to me, then?”
The men all looked at each other, a little confused.
“He was limping when he got to me,” I explained. “And he was clutching his side—”
“Ohthat,” Joshua nodded immediately. “He came in from the woods to the north. Shortly after clearing the wall he triggered one of the claymores.”
Now it was my turn to be confused.
“Theclaymores?”
“Yes.”
“What’s a claymore?” I asked.
Cole dragged his toast casually through a runny egg. “It’s a directional anti-personnel mine.”
If I were still holding my coffee I would’ve spilled it all over. Instead, my mouth dropped open in complete disbelief. “You haveminesset up around the house?”
“A few,” said Evan. “But only at the outer perimeter.”
“And only at choke points,” added Joshua.
“Yeah,” growled Cole. “And somehow that piece of shit still got through.” He continued chomping down on his eggs as he pointed his fork accusingly. “I told you the scope of our setup was too narrow. Even with a sixty-degree kill zone, we needed supplemental—”
“Yeah, well the claymore wasn’t designed to killalltargets,” Evan cut him off. “Fifty-two thousand steel balls flying at four-thousand feet per second was also designed to maim.”
“Maim…” I murmured in disbelief.
He reached out, took a fistful of bacon, and smiled. “Nothing slows an advancing force down faster than having to carry the wounded.”
The sound of my fork clattering loudly and intentionally against my plate turned all their attention my way.
“Anti-personnel mines don’t sound very baby-friendly,” I said coldly. “You’re taking those down when I get closer to giving birth, right?”
Again they glanced at each other. Again they shrugged.
“By the time you give birth this whole thing with Ferrera is going to be over,” said Evan. “But sure. After that it all comes down.”
“Wedidtell you to stay put in the house,” Joshua reminded me. “Remember?”
“Yeah, well you didn’t mention anything about a minefield.”
“It’s not a minefield,” Cole corrected me. “None of the claymores are buried at all. They’re staked into the ground, or wired between trees in such a way that—”
