Page 43 of The Team

“Because this is years of our work; research results are...” His words trailed off, and he turned to Rhett, pale and scared. “Those,” he whispered, pointing to one section where there was a glass box. Three small silver cannisters sat at the back, each not much bigger than a test tube. “I don’t know what those are. I’ve not seen them before.”

“Are they dangerous?” Rhett asked.

“I don’t know,” the older man said, beginning to panic. “Please step back.”

But then he reached his hand out, much the same way a father would do to protect a child. But Yin was suddenly beside Jay, weapon raised and aimed at the scientist. “Back away,” Yin barked. “Do not touch him.”

The man damned near shat himself, shaking, teary, and pale. “No, no. I do not mean?—”

“Stand down,” Jay said. “He didn’t mean it.”

Jay gave a nod to Yin and he lowered his gun. Theolder man sagged with relief, though Jay reckoned it took a few years off whatever time he had left.

Rhett spoke into his comms. “We have unidentified canisters in the vault. I repeat. Three unidentified small canisters... negative... Roger that.”

Then he looked at them each, his eyes going back to Jay. “A team’s on its way down now. We need to stay until we’re cleared.”

Fucking fuckity fuck.

“You shouldn’t have stayed,” Rhett hissed at Jay, angry.

“Well, I did,” Jay replied. “And I would do it all over again. You know that.” Jay wasn’t having this discussion with him right now, and not in front of others. Instead, he looked at the older man. “I can’t keep referring to you in my head as the scientist. What’s your name?”

Still with hands shaking, he turned his ID badge over. “Doctor Azad Heydari.”

Jay smiled at him. “Nice to meet you, Azad. I’m Medic. This is Fù-shé,” he gestured to Yin. “And Captain.” He ignored Rhett’s glare and gave Azad a shrug. “Helluva day, huh?”

By the timethey were done with swab tests and given the all-clear, the rest of the team was already back at the base, and Rhett was pissed.

Today had been a failure on all counts.

He got out of the truck before it came to a full stop, stalking into the first admin building, and made a beeline for King.

“What the fuck kinda intel was that?” he demanded.

King glared at him, then looked at the others. “Give us the room.”

Rhett didn’t give a fuck who heard what he had to say.

“This was a waste of our fucking time,” Rhett added. “Kowalski and Myles are still missing, and we find out that Askarov has a meeting with Gordian, time and location, from a scientist because she overheard a fucking phone call. Intel you should have known!” He pointed his finger at him. “How did you not have this information? We’re supposed to have the best of fucking everything; the best intel, satellites, phone calls, CCTV access across the fucking planet, and you send us on a wild fucking goose chase.”

King glared at him with as much distaste as Rhett had ever seen. “You’ll do well to remember who you’re talking to?—”

“And so the fuck will you!” Rhett pointed his finger again because gripping King by the throat wasn’t a good idea. “We now have a location, and I swear to fucking Christ, if we’re too late for my two men, I will hold you personally fucking responsible.”

“You’re not going?—”

Rhett took a step closer, his voice real low and lethal. “Just try and fucking stop me.” He turned for the door.

“I could ground your whole team?—”

Rhett spun around on him then, and King took a small step back. “And I will go over your head. You cannot run Milvus without me, but we can sure as fuck run it without you. So just fucking try me, I dare you.”

Rhett was so fucking mad. So fucking livid, he could barely see straight. He wanted to punch the ever-lovingfuck out of King, but instead, he turned back for the door and decided that kicking a chair into the wall was better for everyone.

He almost took the door off its hinges and stormed out, stalking past his entire team, which now stood by the entrance, watching the whole thing.

He headed for the mess hall where they’d set up their bullshit camp. He wanted to kick the shit out of the chairs and tables but decided against that too. Instead, he put his fingers through his hair, keeping his hands on his head to try and get as much air into his lungs as possible and a rein on his temper.

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