Page 21 of Rescuing Aria
“Forest himself.” Jenny lets that sink in.
Blaze whistles low. Forest doesn’t personally recruit often, but when he does, it means something. Like when he found me in that bar in Tijuana, half-dead and fully drunk, somehow seeing potential where I saw only wreckage.
“Speaking of…” Blaze sidles closer, lowering his voice to a stage whisper that’s anything but private. “How’s Aria? Still pretending you two aren’t completely gone for each other?”
“We’re taking it slow.” Heat creeps up the back of my neck, traitorous and sharp beneath my collar. Years of training, and still, she gets under my skin like no one else.
“That’s not what I heard.” Mac doesn’t even look up as he slides extra mags into his pack. “Word is you’ve been sneaking off to the beach… K-noodling.”
“Word gets around fast,” I grunt, eyes on my vest straps as I rethread the shoulder harness.
“We wouldn’t say word’s getting around,” Blaze cuts in, grin audible in his voice. “But Aria and Ember are tight. They talk. And then Ember talks to me. And I’m telling you—you’re not moving as fast as you should be, brother.” He claps a hand on my shoulder, solid and loud enough to make the vest dig into my ribs. “Life’s short. Especially for guys like us.”
A knot tightens low in my gut. I keep my voice neutral, eyes locked on the edge of my gear. “That’s what she’s saying to Ember?”
Blaze doesn’t catch it—too busy grabbing his hydration pack. “Nah. She says you’re different. Careful. That you actually give a damn.”
He moves on, but I stay still, pulse thudding behind my ears.
Different.
Careful.
She notices.
I double-check the Velcro across my chest plate, buying time, letting my face settle back into unreadable lines. I don’t need them catching the way her words land like a gut punch wrapped in velvet.
“She seems good for you.” Blaze’s teasing smile softens into something more genuine. “After everything that went down with Charlie and Brett leaving… You good?”
“I’m good. Really.” I look up, meeting his eyes.
“Well, Aria seems good for you.”
“Thanks, bro.”
“Incoming. Best behavior, children.” Jenny clears her throat, but I catch the hint of a smile before she schools her features.
Two figures approach from the main compound, flanking Sam’s stocky silhouette. Even from a distance, I can read their movement patterns—the way the taller one scans his surroundings in precise arcs, the way the other moves with barely contained energy.
Military. Experienced. Dangerous.
Sam makes the introductions before disappearing back toward headquarters, leaving our potential new teammates standing before us like fresh meat at inspection.
“This is Razor,” Sam says as he stops in front of us, gesturing to the taller of the two men flanking him.
The guy nods once, his dark eyes sweeping over each of us like he’s cataloging weak spots. Controlled. Quiet. SEAL sniper, and it shows in every inch of him.
“And this is Storm,” Sam adds, jerking his thumb toward the broader one with the twitchy energy.
Storm flashes a crooked grin, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“Marine Raider,” Sam continues. “Breacher, demo, CQB. Moves fast, thinks faster, talks the fastest. You’ll see. They’rejoining today’s exercise. Trial run.” Sam’s tone is matter-of-fact. “Whether it turns permanent is up to all of you. And them.”
Without waiting for a response, he turns and heads back toward HQ, leaving the new guys in our territory.
“So you’re Delta team.” Storm steps forward, voice smooth with a clipped East Coast edge. “Heard you guys were the best. That true, or just good PR?”
“Why don’t you tell us after today?” Blaze snorts, his laugh sharp and unbothered.
