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She saluted him back.
“Wolf.”
“It’s Captain Trace Benoit,” Lewis said, giving the Major the honor of his name.
“Thank you for joining us,” she said. “I know this isn’t going to be fun, but we have an extraction to make.”
He shrugged.
“Major, you once pulled my division out of a nightmare in Niger. This is the least I can do for you. You and your men carried us out.”
She reassured him.
“It was my job. You don’t owe me.”
He stopped her.
“I do. My brother and I were in that division. You saved his life. I owe you for that, and I always repay my debts.”
She shook his hand.
“Thank you, Captain.”
He shook Jagger’s next.
“Captain. Thank you.”
Jagger didn’t mind. Like his wife said, they’d been on the job, and that was the bottom line.
“What’s the plan?” he asked with the Cajun in his voice peeking through from beneath the military training.
“First, be yourself. I’m chill. I don’t require regulations. I need your skill of getting to my people. They’re five miles in, and likely in a hunting setup.”
He whistled.
“That’s going to take hours in the dark.”
She was aware.
“You still in?” she asked.
He grinned.
“I grew up here, Ma’am. This is what we did for shits and giggles on a Saturday night with my family to get gator for Sunday dinner.”
Whatever floated his boat.
She’d rather not, but hey…
To each their own.
Wading with snakes and gators was not a fun thing, and she liked living.
“Ready to get in and out? This might be a trap.”
Without missing a beat, Wolf chimed in.
“I love a trap.”
