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But I didn't care. I exchanged a glance with Paladin and Thunder. They knew my cues like clockwork.
"Where are we going?"
"To hunt Hunter."
Miguel cursed under his breath and disappeared. When he came back, he looked a lot like how I used to remember him before any op—a walking armory with an entire arsenal of firearms strapped to his body.
He'd gone to the point of slinging an assault rifle over his shoulder.
He had his favorite Glock 19 in a holster on his hip, and I could tell he'd tucked a knife into his right boot from the bulge on it. My lips twitched.
"You've strapped a grenade to your chest too, haven't you?"
He shrugged nonchalantly. "I want options. I could just go full zombie and tear him apart with my hands when I see him. These are just in case I feel more ..."
"Unhinged?" Paladin asked, frowning. "Where do you think we're going? Gotham's underworld?"
"With that bastard, you never know."
He busied himself with checking and rechecking everything and then grunted. "I need some room to strap my coffee thermos on."
"And then you'll be ready to shuttle off to the moon, Thunder," Asher rumbled, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he made a gesture that would make a Broadway actor proud. "You look like a walking gun show. Ridiculous."
Miguel bared his teeth at Asher. "You can never be too prepared."
Asher gave up, muttering something under his breath as he raised his hands in a gesture of defeat and turned around. This was just Thunder's way.
He was obsessed with packing, even for the smallest of missions.
About a year ago, we were almost hired to work as bodyguards for a Hollywood A-lister. Thunder was really pressed to make a good first impression. To him, that meant carrying his entire gun collection.
He had his Glock 19 but also decided the occasion merited his Sig Sauer P226, a Beretta M9, and a Colt 1911.
Don't even get me started.
When we met the prospective client, she was paranoid about her safety. Thunder decided the best way to assure her would be a visual display of all his guns.
Needless to say, she wasn't impressed. He didn't understand why her face looked like she'd seen a werewolf, ghost, and clown all at once. Her mouth was crossed into a shape that looked like she'd choked on too-dry bread.
She could have been a Halloween mask—which was saying something because it was a pretty face otherwise. Nowhere near Juniper, though.
In his eagerness to prove his point, he tried to give her a display of the capabilities of each gun. She jumped out of her seat and ran out of the office.
I was too busy laughing, and Asher looked like he would give Thunder the thumping of his life. I didn't mind losing the client—she had a very questionable history of preferring fashion that came from the skins of live animals.
The second I walked in and saw the fur coat on her, I knew we wouldn't take her case. It didn't mean that Thunder wasn't a major liability on occasion, and he'd cost us quite a few clients on the way.
This time, though, I didn't mind him packing. I intended to do it myself.
"Carry something with you," I told Asher, my face set. "Thunder's right. You never know with men like Hunter. I don't expect him to come alone or unprepared."
Asher nodded and went to the bedroom to get ready.
This was the mission we should have been on.
I just had one more thing to do before I left.
"Skipper, inclement weather alert."
