Page 75 of Kai
I fixed my stare on Granite. “Next time you wanna test me, don’t do it when the life of my principal is on the line. Understood?”
“Indeed.” He inclined his massive head and set his tank on the ground next to Guzman’s. “It will not happen again.”
It wasn’t an apology, but coming from Bozeman, it was as much of one as I was gonna get. In a rare show of respect, he’d just unstuck the stick that lived up his ass.
Micah Bozeman was a top-notch operator. He was also one uptight SOB, cold, exacting, calculating, and humorless. Perhaps that stern combination made him such an accomplished operator on the battlefield.
On the other hand, it didn’t earn him scores of friends. His smiles were rare, while his demands on our crew’s performance were harsh and endless. He lived to kick our asses and rarely dialed down his warrior intensity. He preferred his own company during downtime and always walked around as grumpy as a camel.
Despite all of this, I liked Bozeman. The man was as loyal as they came. He’d seconded Dagger during his active-duty toursand left a high-ranking, cushy desk job with the Raiders to join Tracker Team. Bozeman and I weren’t as tight as Guzman and I were, but I considered Granite a battle brother. When the rubber hit the road, he was one hell of a warrior to have at your back.
I considered the men before me and tilted my head. “Wanna tell me what you’re doing here?”
“Safety check,” Bozeman replied, brief and brisk as usual. “Dagger saw the shield go down and went ballistic.”
“I fixed the problem,” I said. “Shame you guys didn’t show up in time to help.”
“We came as fast as we could,” Guzman said. “But I knew you had it under control.”
“Then why the visit?” I asked.
“Resupply mission.” Bozeman plopped down a watertight case on the table.
I opened the case and spotted a full complement of spare batteries. “Tango Yankee.”Thank youin military lingo.
“Dagger assumed you used the backup battery pack.” Javier tossed his mask and fins on the bench, then wiped the water from his face and shook his head like a dog drying off its fur. “He wanted you to have another set in case this happened again. He was also concerned about the protection blackout and wanted confirmation that the mission is going according to plan.”
I propped my carbine in the corner and planted my feet. “The mission is going according to plan.”
“And the girl?” Bozeman asked.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You mean the woman.”
“Yes, her,” he rumbled unapologetically. “Do you have Cersi Astor in your possession?”
“Of course I do,” I replied, my voice a little stiff. Bozeman’s stilted formality was a vibe killer, and yet the word “possession” resonated with me, and not in a military way. “Iwouldn’t be lying low if I hadn’t recovered her.”
“It is as we anticipated.” Bozeman gave another curt nod. “The boss will be pleased.”
“Hell, yeah.” Guzman unhooked his carbine and settled it on the table. “This is personal for Dagger. The Astor sisters are his family. My family too, now. It doesn’t help that the NWO keeps hanging around here like spiders sticking to their web.”
“You guys did a good job putting trackers on their boats,” I said.
“Why, thanks, K-man.” Guzman smirked. “I did some of that shit myself.”
The guys had gone out of their way to provide me with support. They’d been extra careful, making sure their infil wasn’t traceable to our foes. The latter explained the underwater shenanigans. These two had swum a significant distance and spent a lot of time and energy to get me the spares. The fact they were wearing watertight utility pouches instead of rucks told me they were traveling light and planning on a quick turnaround.
Long swim in, long swim out.
“I gather you don’t have time for chow and rack?”
Bozeman shook his head. “We do not, but we have new intel for you.”
“Talk and refuel.” Knowing the drill, I went into replenishment mode. I strolled starboard, crouched before the waist-high fridge embedded in the outdoor galley, and grabbed several large bottles of water, a pile of power bars, and a handful of salt pills.
“A long swim was Dagger’s preferred and safest method of contact.” Guzman plopped down on a chair at one end of the table. “Although, considering how extensively you booby-trapped the entrance to the cove and the place itself, the word ‘safest’ may not apply.” Twisting one way, then the other, he stretched out his upper arm and back, his only allowance to thecramps that came with long distance swims. “You’re a thorough son of a bitch, dude. One tiny oversight and we would’ve goneboom.”
“Agree.” Bozeman inclined his head and then shocked me with his next words. “Excellent work.”
