Page 43 of What I Should Have Done

“Nah, Mikey’s the one with the dirty mouth, or did you forget about just yesterday?” I snipped, raising my own brow. From my peripherals, I caught that cocky grin briefly back on Mikey’s face. Though it immediately disappeared when he noticed me looking.

“I’ll give you twenty bucks right now if you let him kiss you the next time he does something like that.” Bernie leaned toward me, crossing his arms over the table.

“Twenty bucks? Do you think that low of me?” I asked, and Mikey’s mouth fell open.

“I’m not a rich man, Scottie, so take it or leave it.” Bernie frowned and pulled his hands into his lap.

“I’ll pass,” I said, and he sighed, exasperated.

“Damn, how about kissing me?” He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth.

“There is not enough money in this world to get me to kiss any of you idiots, I have more self-respect than that,” I stated.

Ford snickered. “Should’ve quit while you were ahead, dumbass.”

“You know what?” Bernie pointed a finger at Ford. “I…”

“You, what?” Ford retorted with an eyeroll.

Mindlessly, my gaze slid over to Mikey. A brief smirk morphed on his features as if he was accepting some sort of challenge. One that had me sweating. Maybe I wouldn’t mind seeing how it felt to kiss him. It had been a long time since I’d kissed someone. Drums played low in my stomach. For the second time in one sitting, a pulse ached between my legs from his simple stare.

His tongue flicked out, briefly wetting his bottom lip, then he pulled his stare away from me, frustration quickly clouding his expression. He snatched the envelope out of Bernie’s hand. Rising from the bench, Mikey turned away.

“Where the fuck are you going?” Bernie called out.

He paused. “To get rid of this.”

“I thought you didn’t have any feelings for her anymore?” Bernie shouted as Mikey disappeared without a single word. Bernie frowned.

“Let him be, Bernie,” Ford muttered. “You know how he is with women, even if they treat him like shit.”

“Yeah, he lets them walk all over him.” Bernie slid a thumb over his envelope as I began reassembling my sniper rifle.

“No, you dumbass.” Ford looked up from his letter. “When have you ever seen Mikey talk disrespectfully about a woman? Ever?”

“Uh, how about when he first met me? He said, and I quote, ‘fuck this’ and walked out,” I inserted myself into the conversation, and Ford shook his head.

“That wasn’t directed at you, Scottie. Mikey respects you and always will. Plus, you’ve also now saved his life. He’s stubborn and boneheaded and a smug son of a bitch at times, so he probably will never outright tell you he’s aware you’re the reason he’s alive, but he sees it.”

“You guys have issues,” I lightheartedly replied.

Ford raised his hand in a salute. “Which is why you’re fitting right in.”

“Oh, ha. Ha.” I mocked, rolling my eyes. Slowly, metal snapped into place as I finished piecing the rifle back together.

“Hey, fuckheads!” Unexpectedly, the sound of Dom’s voice pulled all of our attention away from the table. He jogged our way.

“What’s going on? We got news?” Bernie asked, excitement slipping across his words.

“Sergeant Powell still hasn’t woken up, so we’ve got nothing from him. And not a peep from the other one still with the terrorist group, but the colonel asked if we’d head out with another squad to stop the transport of a bomb by the same terrorist organization. We’ve got about an hour or so before we need to gear up, so go eat.” Dom stopped beside us, scanning the group. “Wait, where’s Mikey?”

“He bounced a few minutes ago with his letter,” Ford explained.

“I need to return this to the tent before heading to the chow hall, I’ll let him know?” I offered, rising from my seat with my fully reassembled and clean sniper rifle.

“Sounds good. The rest of you, let’s go,” Dom said.

Nerves rushed beneath my skin as they headed off to eat. A mission that had nothing to do with the Black Box, but still, something to do while we waited. I knew I wasn’t the only one grateful for the distraction from our failure.

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