Page 77 of Over the Top

“Aww, c’mon. The road trip was fun.”

“Except for the part where we were chased, a guy died, and you took a freaking prisoner.”

“You ain’t seen nuthin’ yet, kid.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“How about tomorrow we go visit Poppy? Would that make you feel better?”

“You’re bribing me. And it’s totally working, you giant jerk.”

“Sweet dreams, Chasten.”

Chas huffed. “Same to you.” God, he hated it when Gunner managed him like this. But the guy had always known how to handle him like nobody else. In bed and out of it.

GUNNER WOKEup a whole lot sorer than he was willing to admit. As for Chas, he was asleep on his stomach, his face mashed against the mattress, his jaw slack. The guy looked wiped out. The past week had been hard on both of them, but Chas wasn’t used to the fast pace and high stress of working in hostile environments.

Moving stealthily, Gunner rolled out of the bed and padded barefoot across the room. He slipped out into the hall and eased the door shut so Chas could sleep a little more.

Spencer and Drago were either still asleep or not in the house. Maybe they were taking care of their prisoner. Gunner fiddled around with the coffeepot on the kitchen counter until he got it to start brewing, and then he went into the living room to work his way through a yoga stretching routine. The athletic trainers who worked with the SEAL teams swore by flexibility for injury prevention and longevity as an operator.

He took it slow, gradually working out the kinks and creaks. By the time he heard Spencer and Dray moving around in the kitchen, he felt like a normal human being again and not a stiff stick-figure imitation.

He strolled to the back of the house, following the smell of bacon frying, and found Spencer, who obviously noticed how gingerly he was moving. “How are you feeling, Gun?”

He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. “Creaky. I’m forced to admit—reluctantly—that the admiral may have been right to sign my termination papers.”

Spencer swore under his breath. “You really should come to work for us. The vast majority of what we do isn’t strenuous. It takes more brains than brawn to be a good security consultant.”

“I’m seriously considering it.”

Drago clapped him on the shoulder as he plunked down a plate heaped with scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. “Glad to hear it. Look forward to having you on the team.”

Something warm spread through his gut. Apparently he needed to feel like part of something larger than himself, some sort of brotherhood of like-minded souls, more than he’d realized.

“How soon do you think someone will be coming for your prisoner?” he asked.

Drago slid into a chair across the table. “Soon. And based on past incidents with the Oshiro gang, they like to come in with overwhelming numbers. We anticipate at least six, and possibly many more guys than that, to come after him.”

Gunner stared at both men. “You’re not seriously thinking about going into a firefight against a bunch of hostiles with just the two of you, are you?”

“We’ll have you too,” Drago said jauntily.

“Still. Three against a couple of dozen isn’t ideal.”

Spencer shrugged. “We should have plenty of reinforcements, assuming we can get the Oshiro boys to come to us.”

“And who would these reinforcements be?” Gunner asked.

Drago grinned. “I might have made a call to an old friend over at the FBI. Turns out the feds are plenty eager to get ahold of whoever shot up a peaceful little New England town. When I told him I might be calling in the next few days with information as to the location of the shooters, he and his people were all over it.”

Gunner swallowed a bite of the hearty breakfast. “And how, exactly, are we bringing the Oshiros to us?”

“Easy. We’re going to make sure our prisoner sees Poppy, and then we’re turning him loose.”

“Are you actually going to release him, or are you going to make him think he escaped?”

“He gets to escape. We’ll control the direction of his egress from the property to make sure he catches a glimpse of Poppy on the way out.”

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