Page 4 of Guarding Salvation

Having a base under a mountain on the Welsh border certainly helped with that, and the locals all knew them as the mountain rescue people and called them by the names they’d chosen when their identities were wiped and new aliases had been put in place if someone went looking, like a nosey local copper.

He’d stuck with Bram, but his team all called him Bein, and he mostly used their code names too. They were tight, a team that had to rely on each other for their lives in deadly situations but also friendships. All of them lived in their quarters here and spent most evenings together or in their rooms if they wanted peace and quiet. It was like a dysfunctional fucking commune.

“I ken a clipe that might be able to help?”

“English, Bein, I don’t speak fucking Jock.”

Bein turned to Lotus who was glaring at him, and he smirked. “Haud yer wheesht, wench.”

Telling her to shut up in any accent was a risky business but he knew she was looking for a fight and, as her friend, he was happy to give it to her. Plus, he fancied a sparring session to ease the tension and clear the cobwebs. It was coming up on the tenth anniversary of the night his sister was attacked, and it always made him antsy.

“You little dick.”

Bein stood and winked. “Nothin’ small about it, darlin’.”

“Okay, enough. Get the fuck out of my office and get to work. I want a report on my desk by Friday morning.”

Bein walked out with Duchess and a seething Lotus behind him with Titan.

“You really shouldn’t wind her up you know.”

“I know, but she needs a fight and I’m happy to give it to her.”

Duchess nudged his shoulder with her own. “You’re a good guy, Bein.”

He wished that was true, but they all knew none of them were truly good. They’d seen and done too much for that to be true. “Lotus, I’ll meet you in the ring in ten minutes.”

“Bring it on, asshole.”

Jogging back to his quarters, he let himself in using his seven-digit code. His rooms comprised of a living area, kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom. He’d decorated it how he wanted as it was likely to be the only home he’d ever have, or at least until he was no longer operational and then he’d see what happened and where his life led him.

He’d gone for blues and greens with a dark blue couch and tartan throw pillows because they reminded him of home. His kitchen was the same as the others, white and a high gloss with all the appliances he could possibly need. His bedroom had a king-size bed with a green quilt cover and fur throw.

It didn’t happen often but if the generator went out and the backup generator came on, it could knock the heating out and then it was fucking freezing down there. He hated being over hot but being cold was just as bad.

Changing into gym shorts and a vest, he headed back to the gym area located next to the war room. Lotus was already in the ring, warming up. Titan was spotting the bench for Reaper and Hurricane, the last member of the team and one he knew from the military. Hurricane was ex-Air Force and had been one of the pilots to fly him and his team out of a high-risk zone after an IED attack had killed two of his teammates. Flying home via Germany with his friend’s bodies, and knowing their families would never be the same again, had been the second hardest thing he’d ever done.

The first had been seeing his sister broken after her attack and knowing he was to blame. Bein shook the thought away. It did no good to drag up the past, just made him travel further down the dark path that led to his own personal hell. It was why he didn’t forge relationships with people outside his team. He couldn’t risk them getting hurt and tearing what was left of his heart apart.

Bein stopped a little ways away to watch Hurricane lift. He was benching a very impressive one hundred and seventy-five kilos currently and hardly sweating. Bein was strong, but not Hurricane strong. He was also six foot three of pure black muscle, as he liked to remind Bein. It was unusual for a pilot to be so big, but he loved his weights and it helped with his demons, whatever they were. Bein never asked and Hurricane never shared.

Climbing into the ring, he grinned at Lotus, who just glared and bounced around him before striking so fast he had no time to move. He landed on his back with a hard thud, blood trickling from his lip and grinned.

It was game on.

He never gave an inch as he and Lotus fought, each trying to gain the upper hand. With no rules, it was a dirty fight. Before this team, he’d never fought a woman and at first, it had been awkward as he hadn’t wanted to hurt any of them and had been brought up to never lay a finger on a woman. After having his ass handed to him several times and realising these women were far from shrinking violets and could more than handle themselves, he’d got with the programme. He now treated them exactly like he would the men and learned a few techniques that he otherwise wouldn’t have.

After an hour, he and Lotus were both sweating and bruised, but the tension in them both was gone. It wasn’t as good as getting laid but that was strictly prohibited within the team, so that was a no go and he saw the women like sisters, not in any sexual way at all.

Bein grinned at his friend. “I’d say that’s a draw, ya little bawbag.”

“Will you stop with the romantic names. I told you I just don’t see you that way.”

Lotus was laughing as he slung his arm around her shoulder. He noogied her head with his knuckles, knowing full well that she knew bawbag wasn’t romantic. “You’re a pain in the arse.”

“And you’re a loser who owes me a drink.”

“Fine.”