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Exactly one week later, Fish and I sit in a bar in Svilengrad, waiting for the call to meet up with the rest of our team. We haven’t seen any of our platoon since Virginia or the PMCs since the last meeting when the mission plan was created.
That doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about Chelsea every five minutes. Damn it. Despite my best efforts, I can’t put her out of my head. The mysterious woman is as frustrating as she is alluring. Back to the mission, moron.
A couple of drafts sit on the table for appearance’s sake, but we’re not drinking them. I’ll admit to being tempted. Just the thought of seeing Chelsea again has my leg bouncing and my blood pumping. I wish there was a cure for that. A complicated woman is the last thing I need on my mind right now. I check my watch for the fifth time in ten minutes, wondering where everyone else is hidden in this tiny hamlet.
SEALs and contractors are scattered throughout the city at various other restaurants, shops, and bars. We’d all flown into either Plovdiv International or Varna International airports, seventy and one-hundred-and-thirty miles away, respectively, then rented cars to reach the closest city to our target. The groups were limited to two or four people to avoid attracting attention.
This town is where Knot’s outfitter, an Indian man named Sambi, is to meet us with some of the gear needed for our mission. While I’m not a fan of relying on civilians for equipment, Bash assures me I won’t be disappointed.
Fish brings his beer to his mouth, pretending to take a sip. “So…”
My eyes roll at that mocking, inquisitive tone, and I reach up to knead the two-inch scar on my neck. Memories of that mission still haunt me. I nearly lost my entire platoon to a suicide bomber. Not all of us made it out. I was critically wounded and lost one of my best men, a redneck named Tater.
Fish is still grinning at me, so I push the useless thoughts away. “Don’t start with me,” I warn.
“Hey, I’m just being a responsible squad leader here. Since we’ll be working with Danforth, I need to reconcile the woman you chased out of the bar with the woman who was invaluable in planning this mission.”
“There’s nothing to reconcile. Bash said she was solid. You’ve now seen the proof.”
“Well, then. That leads me to believe you did something to piss her off.”
Grabbing my glass, I take a small sip and swallow. “I didn’t do anything. Chelsea is just…viscerally uninterested.”
Because I refuse to meet Fish’s eyes, he drops his head to look up at me. “And?”
“What do you mean, and? There is no and. If she’s not interested, I’m not interested.”
“Oh. So that’s why you couldn’t keep your eyes off her anytime we were meeting with them. You’re no longer interested.”
My face pinches, and I give Fish the stink eye. “Has anybody ever told you how annoying you are?”
Fish lets out a deep belly laugh right as my sat phone begins to ring. “Thank god,” I mumble, picking up the device. “Go.”
O’Reilly says, “I’m texting you an address. Be there by nineteen hundred.”
A glance at the phone screen says we’ve got two hours. “Nineteen hundred,” I confirm.
I stand and pull a few Lev notes from my pocket and drop them on the bar. Yet another good thing about working with Dillan Knot. He had the foresight and connections to have the local currency for each of us before leaving the States.
Fish and I wait until we’re in the rented car before opening the encrypted message from mission support, which consists of O’Reilly, Knot, and Birdie Crenshaw. Now that we know where we’re going, we search for a restaurant nearby to get dinner and kill time.
At seven, we arrive at an auto shop near the Maritsa River. The two-bay shop is a little snug with all thirty-two of us, plus the mysterious Sambi, his assistant, and the shit ton of gear he’s got ready and waiting.
In defiance of Fish’s taunting, I resolve to keep from looking toward Chelsea. I only slip four, maybe five times while Sambi walks us through the equipment he brought. She’s currently hiding between Sadie and Dani, a severe presence with a sleek, black ponytail. I hear she was former Secret Service. I’m a little afraid of her.
Once during my accidental glances, I notice Chelsea watching me and get a thrill when her cheeks redden at being caught.
Sambi passes out our gear bags, and afterward, Knot and O’Reilly join the meeting via tablet screen. “We’ve got eyes on the area. With less than two miles between towns and the border crossing, once we confirm the arrival of the assault team, you’ll only have seconds to react.”
“That’s all we’ll need,” Wrench declares. “The BZ gas canisters are rigged with remote on and off controls.”
The two men in Virginia nod. “You know the plan. Watch your radio transmissions and stick to the script. Call in when you’re in position. Bennett, bring them all back.”
The screen goes black after I tip my chin in promise. I scan all thirty-one faces of my expanded team. “You know what’s at stake here. These people want to kill us SEALs to destroy you PMCs. We’re not going to let them. Stay invisible and stay alive.”
The team begins to split into groups, half assigned to the border town as fake train spotters and the rest tasked with setting up the decoy and BZ gas. Fish clears his throat beside me, grabbing my attention. I glance his way just in time to watch him check a grin. “One more thing,” Fish begins. “In case someone had the same idea as us and has already set up nearby, a SEAL and PMC should be hip to hip at all times. If Chelsea’s right, hitting a contractor is counter to their narrative, so your proximity will keep the SEALs safe.”
Meddling bastard. He has a point, but I’m still going to kick his ass…later. “You heard the man. Pair up. Danforth, you’re with me.”
