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Yordan took a moment to absorb that, but far from the fury or condemnation Kit expected, he flashed an excited grin.
“I loved my Torch Lake mission. Glad I get to go back.”
And wasn’t that Yordan to a T? No condemnation. No worry. Simple process of the basics. Here’s the problem; let’s go fix it. If Kit weren’t already half in love with Yordan, this would have tipped him straight over the edge.
Kit might be a flexible thinker, but that meant he often got lost in the weeds. He might see all the possibilities, but he quickly got overwhelmed by the magnitude of all the variables. Then he castigated himself for not being able to focus.
Yordan didn’t waste time on blame. He attacked the problem head on without emotions, and that was a godsend right now. Kit wanted to say something mushy then. Something that was grateful and hinted at deeper feelings.
But now wasn’t the time. Especially since he had a confession to make and it was better done not watching Yordan’s reaction. So he focused on flying as he oh-so casually mentioned his personal problem.
“So, um, I’ve got to warn you. I’ll be using a gun in this fight. I’m a pretty good shot—”
“A gun?” Yordan snapped. “With puppies around? Unless you’re a dead shot, that’s fucking stupid.”
“I won’t be much use otherwise—”
“Bullshit. I don’t care if you’re frightened. Don’t care if your blood runs cold at the sight of big fangs. Whatever the problem is, these puppies are your responsibility. What the hell happened to you? You used to be one of the badass fighters. Whatever made you go bureaucrat, get over it. We don’t have the time for it.”
Kit felt his gut twist. He knew there were rumors about why he’d suddenly been thrown into a noncombat position. Most people thought he’d gotten an injury—which was close to the truth—but without a visible limp or missing limb, people thought he was off in the head. Apparently, Yordan thought he’d turned coward, and that hurt.
“Shut up and listen. I can’t shift like normal, so I’ll be using a gun.”
Yordan stared at him, and Kit returned the glare. A moment later, Yordan flushed and looked away. “Sorry. I shouldn’t judge. I don’t know—”
“You’re damn right you don’t know. You think I wanted to leave my pack?”
“I thought you asked for the transfer.”
“I did.” Damn the guy for being so well-informed, but not well-informed enough. “Because I wasn’t going to endanger anyone else.”
Yordan nodded. “So you’ll use a gun.”
“Yes.”
“It better be a goddamned missile launcher, then,” Yordan said as he pointed outside. While they’d been talking, the campground had come into view. Kit hadn’t seen it at first. He’d been busy flying the helo while trying not to throttle Yordan. But now that he banked around, he finally got a good look at the campground.
Holy shit. They were so screwed.
CHAPTER 9
One for the Money, Two for the… Holy Hell, What’s That?
The Torch Lake monster was a lot bigger than Yordan remembered. When his puppy pack had taken on the thing, it had been the size of a cement mixer with equally hard skin. Its mismatched eyes were big, glowing targets, though, and once they’d managed to blind the thing, it had roared in agony. That opened its mouth wide enough for several well-placed bullets to fly up into its brain.
Not exactly easy, but exhilarating, nonetheless.
Today’s incarnation of the lake monster was three times the size and shot slime acid straight from its gullet.
How did Yordan know it was slime acid? Because right when the helicopter banked to come close to the battle zone, the thing shot a big green goober straight at them. Yordan didn’t have to see the melting windshield to know what was happening. He could hear the sizzle as electronics fried, not to mention The Scot’s curse as he fought with the controls.
Yordan had never learned how to pilot anything. Aeronautics were not his strong suit, so all he could do was clutch his seat and pray while the copter seemed to roil in the air.
The Scot’s calm voice steadied him, though, even as his words were, “Hold on. We’re going down.” At least he was speaking in his full Scottish brogue, which was somehow reassuring.
The rapid rise of the horizon, however, was not reassuring. Going down was right. And not just down, but into the water down.
Actually, that might be a good thing, Yordan tried to tell himself. Better than going splat on the blacktop. Except a moment later, The Scot’s steady voice cut through the beeping alarms.
