Page 75 of Broken Love

Over a dozen pockets between them and not one damn wallet. No identification. No notepad. Nothing.

I sit back in disappointment, ready to abandon them completely, but a bit of ink catches my eye just above the bald man’s navel.

I lift his shirt a little higher, revealing the coiling tail of a cobra etched into his skin. Thin, black eyes stare back at me from between his pecs.

A memory triggers in my brain, fueled by deja vu.

This snake. I’ve seen it before but not inked into someone’s skin. It was…

I sat at Marilyn Black’s table with a cup of cold tea in front of me. She drilled me with questions for hours. She wore a silver pendant around her neck. I never thought a second thing of it until just now.

It was a cobra. Just like this tattoo.

I step over to the bearded man and pull up his shirt, too.

The same black eyes stare back at me from his abs.

“Box, it’s time to go,” Fox says from the doorway.

“What about them?” I ask.

“Leave them.”

I hesitate but I force myself to stand up and follow Fox outside into the jeep.

Matching tattoos are usually reserved for two groups of people: drunk college girls and criminal organizations. There can’t be too many that use this cobra to mark their members.

Coincidence? Or another piece of the puzzle?

Chapter 20

Boxcar

A large truck is already parked by the command tent by the time we reach camp.

Caleb called ahead to give them a head’s up, but there’s no way the upper command could have sent someone out to replace Rhys so quickly.

The three of us step inside the command tent to find a tall man standing at the head of the table with at least five other mystery men lingering behind him. All of them are tall with dark features and wear recently pressed BDUs. Frowning faces all around except for the tall man. He grins wider as he sees us, the edges of his wrinkled smile hidden beneath a salt and pepper mustache.

“You must be Fitzpatrick!” he says, zooming in on Fox. He steps around the table and thrusts his hand forward, snatching up Fox’s before he can even react.

“Yes, sir…”

“From what I hear, you’re quite the shot. I look forward to working with you,” he says. He scans the rest of the new men seated around. “I’m Sergeant Paxton. I’m taking over this camp starting now, and you’ll be joining my squad. Welcome aboard.”

Fox opens his mouth to argue but Paxton talks over him, pointing a hard finger at Caleb.

“Fawn, right?” he asks, spinning back to a stack of paperwork. He slides a file out and opens it, smiling. “Caleb?”

“Yes, sir,” she says.

“You’re going home in the morning.”

Caleb goes stiff. “Sir—”

“I understand the mix-up, but you’re not allowed out here. Should have been shipped back the second your boots hit the ground.”

“Sir, I’m a valuable member of this team—”

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