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Ryland tensed beside Harper. “Tanner. His name was Tanner.”
“It’s nothing personal, Rip. Mayhem—Tanner—was an essential part of the team. He will be missed and mourned. But we’re down one member, and we can’t afford to be. We don’t want The Agency to think they’re winning. The truth is, we need manpower. Defeating them is going to be really fucking hard. Any ideas on who we can recruit?”
Saint scoffed. “Right. Please, come join my team. Glamorous locations. Beautiful women. Tropical fruit by the bucketload. And, by the way, some powerful group is picking us off and you’re likely to be shot dead by next week.”
“No one in their right mind is going to join us,” Ryland stated, his thumb gently circling the back of Harper’s hand.
For a long moment, no one said anything. Then Banshee adjusted his dark-rimmed glasses and leaned forward, clasping his hands between his legs. “What if he’s not in his right mind?”
“What’re you talking about?” Saint asked.
Pharaoh crossed his muscular forearms and arched a brow. “Who?”
“I may know just the guy. But he comes with baggage.”
“Don’t we all?” Ryland asked.
Banshee pulled in a breath. “His name’s Gray and he used to be on my SEAL team. Demon and I were on Gold Squadron together for a year and got pretty close.”
Ryland sat up straighter. “I knew some Knights. Good guys.”
Banshee nodded. “Once the Navy found out where my true talents lie, they exchanged my flippers for computers. I got moved and Demon started working with another team, doing really tough missions. The ones no one else wanted. The ‘we don’t know you and no one is coming to your rescue if you fail’ type.”
“Ghost ops?” Pharaoh asked and Banshee nodded.
A shiver ran through Harper. Who would want a job where your own country would forsake you? And what kind of person would be nicknamed Demon?
“He can be a little moody sometimes. Kinda like you, Saint,” Banshee said, and Saint flipped him off. “But, overall, a strong ally and powerful warrior. He’s loyal, too.”
“So what’s his baggage?” Pharaoh asked, cutting straight to the chase.
“PTSD and depression mostly. But the main thing is he lost his entire team when a mission went sideways. He was the lone survivor and he’s had a rough time re-adjusting to civilian life.”
“Fuck,” Ryland grumbled sympathetically.
“Is he capable of handling this?” Pharaoh asked.
“I think he’d jump at the chance. Last I heard from a buddy, Demon was rotting away in some trailer up near L.A., wishing he were dead.”
“Sounds like a loose cannon to me,” Saint commented.
“He’s the best of the best,” Banshee insisted. “And that’s what we need.”
When no one said anything, Bruja finally spoke up. “It can’t hurt to check him out, right? He might not even be interested, but…it guts me when a warrior gives up. Maybe we can help him find his purpose again.”
They all nodded.
“Let’s put it to a vote,” Pharaoh said diplomatically. “All in favor of checking out Gray?”
“Hooyah,” Ryland immediately said.
“Hooyah,” Banshee echoed, and Harper smiled as the two men slapped hands over her head.
“Hooah!” Bruja called out enthusiastically.
“Hooah,” Pharaoh said in agreement. His lack of enthusiasm made them all snort with laughter.
Bruja punched his arm. “Loosen up a little. I swear, Pharaoh, other than keeping us all alive, you are making it my mission to get your ass laid.”
