Page 23 of The Big Fix

“Flatterer. Do you have someone in mind?”

“I don’t, actually,” I confessed. “Everyone I could ask from the military is committed somewhere at the moment, and all my own people are engaged as well. The thing is though, I have to have someone watching our six.”

“You’re expecting real trouble, then.”

“Honestly, I have no idea, but potentially, members of the Thai government look to be involved, or at least on the payroll of whoever’s behind this. I need protection for Jing and Arden, and for me and Dante.”

“For you and Dante?”

“We’re not as young as we used to be,” I admitted to him.

“Not Chris?” he teased, trying to get me to take a breath, which worked.

I smiled into the phone. “Chris can watch himself.”

“Well, you’ll need two people because someone has to lead the team.”

“What? No. I’m leading the team.”

The pause from Darius was noticeable. In the moment of silence, I imagined his face as he took that news in. I’d just told him that Dante and I weren’t as young as we used to be, and moments later said I would be the leading man. He had to be wondering if I was spiraling.

He wasn’t wrong. As Chris had pointed out to me, I hadn’t been in the field in years. It was even longer since I’d led an op. Field work was an unforgiving arena. One didn’t shake the cobwebs off during a mission—not a smart man, anyway. To do so risked my life and the lives of my team.

“I don’t have a lot of options,” I told Darius. “This is Owen we’re talking about. I’m not going to sit on the bench with him missing.”

“I get it,” he said solemnly.

“My only solution is to surround myself with the best team who can compensate for my rustiness.”

Darius grunted.

“I’m going, and it sounds like Dante is too, as well as Chris.”

“I’m not worried about Chris.”

“Oh, but you are worried about me and Dante.”

“Did I say that? I don’t think I said that.”

“You didn’t have to say it. I can hear it in your tone.”

Darius huffed out a breath. “Okay, then, I’ll only look for a sniper, someone to watch over you, since you’re hell-bent on going.”

“I—”

“Look, we’ve known each other a long time, Jared. Long enough to know you’re a dog with a bone here. What’s your readiness window?”

“Forty-eight hours, seventy-two tops.”

“That’s enough time for you to get reacquainted with the feel of a weapon and get a little dry firing under your belt.”

“I’ve done a bit more than you think I have. Our situations at Torus, domestically, have gotten a bit dicey over the years.”

“Oh? Have they?” Darius asked, his tone biting. I could hear the sarcasm oozing over the line. “Dicey, you say?”

Fuck.

“Speed only comes through repetition, you know that. Dry fire a goddamn semiautomatic rifle, will you please. I have an image in my mind of you getting burned just breaching some ridiculous apartment building or something. You know that dry firing is an efficient way to practice in any environment. It’s considered the best training tool to increase accuracy and precision with firearms,” he lectured me. “I myself still—”