Page 26 of Iron Hearts

“Rarity Mitchell,” she said, holding out her hand to shake. I took it, and her grasp was light but firm. “Everybody calls me Rarity, or just Rare.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Rarity. I gotta ask. How did you get a name like that?”

“How did you get Striker?” she asked in return.

“Okay, Touché, but working at the Iron Horse, you should know the rules on that.”

She smiled a bit coyly and said, “I’m a dumb blonde twenty-something. Depends on the day and the crowd.”

I chuckled at that and said, “You got me there.”

“So?”

“A couple reasons,” I said. “One, I’m a trick shot.” Her eyebrows went up.

“What like an Annie Oakley type of trick shot?” she asked.

“You know your history, and yeah. I can shoot the face off a quarter spinning in the air, or take out the spade in the middle of the ace of spades at a hundred paces. Shit like that.”

“You said two reasons,” she said. “What’s the other?”

“I used to serve in a Stryker Brigade when I was in-country,” I said.

She frowned, perplexed. “You meanoutof the country, right? Like, you served overthere.”

I nodded and told her, “Except in the military, we call it ‘in-country’ when we’re over there – as in ‘in the other country’ away from ours.”

“Okaaaay,” she said, drawing out the word.

“So… Rarity?” I asked, and she shifted on her shapely ass on the edge of her bed. She had something like forty-nine hundred pillows like some girls liked to do, and I was comfortably propped up looking at her.

“My mom and dad were having hardcore fertility issues when they were trying to get pregnant with me. They were doing IVF and the whole nine yards. The doctors told them I was, for sure, going to be the only one if they managed to get me to term. My mom decided, since I was going to be such a rarity, that the name fit.”

“So, are those your boys that you referenced your mom putting to bed?” I asked curiously.

“What? No!” She laughed a little. “They’re my brothers. Triplets. Identical – it was wild. When I was nineteen, Mom got pregnant with them and wasn’t even trying.” A shadow crossed her face. “My dad never even got to meet them. He died before they were born.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, reaching out and taking her hand off her knee, smoothing my thumb over the back of it.

“Thanks,” she said. “That was a little over four years ago.” She sniffed. “We miss him every day.”

“I bet,” I murmured.

“Anyway, I drive his Jeep now. It’s paid for so…” she shrugged.

I said, “That’s cool.”

We lapsed into an awkward silence, and I squeezed her hand when her deep blue eyes lapsed into a sightless stare. I didn’t want her to retreat into bad memories. I knew a thing or three about that… and so I squeezed twice to bring her back. She looked at me solemnly.

“He’d be proud of you, you know?” I asked.

“What?”

She frowned, and I told her, “For keeping your cool back there. You were braver than some soldiers I know.”

“No.” She looked like she didn’t believe me.

“Yes,” I insisted.

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