The Last Letter(2)

Havoc raced across the ground, her strides sure, her focus narrowed to her target until—

“Damn, she’s good,” Mac said, coming up behind me.

“She’s the best.” I glanced over my shoulder at him before training my eyes on Havoc as she ran back to me. She had to be the best to get to where we were, on a tier-one team that operated without technically existing. She was a spec op dog, which was about a million miles above any other military working dog.

She was also mine, which automatically made her the best.

My girl was seventy pounds of perfect Labrador retriever. Her black coat stood out against the sand as she stopped just short of my legs. Her rump hit the ground, and she held the Kong out to me, her eyes dancing. “Last time,” I said softly as I took it from her mouth.

She was gone before I even retracted my arm to throw.

“Word on Ramirez?” I asked, watching for Havoc to get far enough away.

“Lost his arm. Elbow down.”

“Ffffff—” I threw the toy as far as I could.

“You could let it slip. Seems appropriate today.” Mac scratched the month of beard he was rocking and adjusted his sunglasses.

“His family?”

“Christine will meet him at Landstuhl. They’re sending in fresh blood. Forty-eight hours until arrival.”

“That soon?” We really were that expendable.

“We’re on the move. Meeting is in five.”

“Gotcha.” Looked like it was on to the next undisclosed location.

Mac glanced down at my arm. “You get that looked at?”

“Doc stitched it up. Just a graze, nothing to get your panties in a twist over.” Another scar to add to the dozens that already marked my skin.

“Maybe you need someone to get her panties in a twist over you in general.”

I sent a healthy shot of side-eye to my best friend.

“What?” he asked with an exaggerated shrug before nodding toward Havoc, who pulled up again, just as excited as the first time I threw the Kong, or the thirty-sixth time. “She can’t be the only woman in your life, Gentry.”

“She’s loyal, gorgeous, can seek out explosives, or take out someone trying to kill you. What exactly is she missing?” I took the Kong and rubbed Havoc behind her ear.

“If I have to tell you that, you’re too far gone for my help.”

We headed back into the small compound, which was really nothing more than a few buildings surrounding a courtyard. Everything was brown. The buildings, the vehicles, the ground, even the sky seemed to be taking on that hue.

Great. A dust storm.

“You don’t need to worry about me. I’ve got no trouble when we’re in garrison,” I told him.

“Oh, I’m well aware, you Chris Pratt-looking asshole. But man”—he put his hand on my arm, stopping us before we could enter the courtyard where the guys had gathered—“you’re not…attached to anyone.”

“Neither are you.”

“No, I’m not currently in a relationship. That doesn’t mean I don’t have attachments, people I care about and who care about me.”

I knew what he was getting at, and this wasn’t the time, the place, or the ever. Before he could take it any deeper, I slapped him on the back.

“Look, we can call in Dr. Phil, or we can get the hell out of here and move on to the next mission.” Move on, that was always what came easiest to me. I didn’t form attachments because I didn’t want to, not because I wasn’t capable. Attachments—to people, places, or things—were inconvenient or screwed you over. Because there was only one thing certain, and it was change.

“I’m serious.” His eyes narrowed into a look I’d seen too many times in our ten years of friendship.

“Yeah, well I am, too. I’m fine. Besides, I’m attached to you and Havoc. Everyone else is just icing.”

“Mac! Gentry!” Williams called from the door on the north building. “Let’s go!”

“We’re coming!” I yelled back.

“Look, before we go in, I left you something on your bed.” Mac rubbed his hand over his beard—his nervous tell.

“Yeah, whatever it is, after this conversation I’m not interested.” Havoc and I started walking toward the meeting. Already I felt the itch in my blood for movement, to leave this place behind and see what was waiting for us.

“It’s a letter.”

“From who? Everyone I know is in that room.” I pointed to the door as we crossed the empty courtyard. That’s what happened when you grew up bouncing from foster home to foster home and then enlisted the day you turned eighteen. The collection of people you considered worthy of knowing was a group small enough to fit in a Blackhawk, and today we were already missing Ramirez.

Like I said. Attachments were inconvenient.

“My sister.”

“I’m sorry?” My hand froze on the rusted-out door handle.

“You heard me. My little sister, Ella.”

My brain flipped through its mental Rolodex. Ella. Blond, killer smile, soft, kind eyes that were bluer than any sky I’d ever seen. He’d been waving around pictures of her for the last decade.

“Gentry, come on. Do you need a picture?”