Page 8 of Evening Shadows

Jesse walked by the office and nodded at Ken as he continued toward the war room.

With a grimace, Ken spoke, “Your team is up now. Old Man is waiting to brief the team. You can debrief the op you just completed while you’re in the air. There’s no time to waste on this one.”

Rob surged to his feet, all appearances of exhaustion evaporated. “Then why the hell have you kept me here?”

Not wanting the vulnerable position of being seated while Rob stood over him, he unfolded himself from the chair and held out a hand, staying Rob. “Calm down. Old Man had to get the information. We haven’t wasted any time, except right now. Get out there and I’ll get the team.” With that, they both strode out, Ken falling behind because of his limp.

When the team had all congregated in the war room, Old Man quickly introduced the team breakout. As expected, no questions were asked. The men and women trusted the judgment of their leadership and that helped tremendously in HIS op success. “Bravo team, you’re up for this one. Let’s go. Alpha team, you’re on standby.”

With the room half empty, Ken called his team together near the end of the conference table. As they huddled around, he asked, “Anyone have questions or concerns about our splitting up the teams?”

“I’m glad you did it. It’s better than arbitrarily being put on standby or never knowing if you’ll be chosen for an op,” Danny Franks, former DEA, offered.

“I agree,” Mike—Cowboy—a former Air Force Pararescueman or PJ, added.

“What about the brothers and Kate and Rylee?” Franks asked.

“They’ll be more administrative. That’s not to say they won’t augment an op like this one, but the teams are it for the most part.” He didn’t add, because they’d all seen the change, Kate and Rylee—former FBI agents and Hamilton brother wives—had already slowly been pulling back on ops.

“Who decides who goes?” Sugar asked with that light Southern accent that sounded like music to his soul. The team had quickly dubbed her with a callsign of Sugar because her accent was “sweet as sugar.”

Ken smiled. “That’s one of those administrative things. Old Man will ultimately decide, but the plan is for rotation.”

“Hell, I’m gonna miss Rylee out there. She’s damn good.” Joe Stone, former FBI and called by his last name, must’ve realized how that sounded when Sugar gave him the evil eye. “Now wait a minute,” he begged off. “I’m not saying just because she’s a woman. I’m saying it because she was FBI and we stick together.”

While they all knew he was joking, a small argument broke out where Franks stood his ground for the DEA. When he disparaged the SEALs, Ken stepped in to keep a full-out war from happening.

“All right. We all know the Army Rangers are the best and anyone who argues can sit out the next op.”

Completely ignoring him, they all talked at once. He fought not to smile. This group was predictable.

“So what do we do when Bravo team is on an op?” Rodney, a former Navy SEAL and medic who they referred to as Doc, asked quietly.

“We’ll be on downtime, out on an op of our own, or we’ll be on standby to support them however we can. We’ll also train. Lots of training.” Ken’s experience had been when the topic of training was spoken, several groans sounded. Not from this group. They wanted to stay on top of their game.

“All right, I need to debrief with those who just came back and do the quick turnaround. I’ve read the police reports, but I need to hear from you why bullets were flying.” Some police departments who either weren’t equipped to handle some situations or needed the help the government wouldn’t provide loved their assistance, especially with a successful resolution. But they always hated it when bullets flew. Even if HIS didn’t fire first.

“Hell, Boss, you know they don’t fly unless we have to,” Stone said belligerently, taking up for his old teammates.

Ken sighed heavily. “Yes, but when they do, they don’t usually hit an off-duty police officer.”

“Whoa, wait a minute,” Franks said. “I understood our attorney already said it was a clear case of self-defense. We couldn’t help it that the cop tried to kill Romeo.”

It didn’t surprise him Grits had called their attorney while returning. None of them wanted jail time for doing their job. “I’m not saying the team did anything wrong. Everyone needs to be informed of what happened before, during, and after so we can learn from it. We know that different states react to us differently, so banking the knowledge of each state can only help us. Knowing how the police react to every incident can help us improve our responses. Revisiting what occurred before the incident can only make us stronger in lessons learned.”

Franks, Stone, and Doc nodded. Sugar and Cowboy just watched him, not in disagreement, but more as if they wanted him to continue or add more.

“After we debrief, you’re released for the day. We’ll meet back here tomorrow for training. Remember you’re on standby to back up the team. If we need you, Devon’ll send out the alert.” Every agent, by requirement, carried a cell phone, and if the emergency text pushed through, it required only one thing—get your ass to HQ on the double.

“When are you back on ops?” Doc asked.

“Not soon enough.” And no way in hell would he allow Sam to go on one without him.

4

In her Baltimore apartment, Sam woke from a catnap to a pounding on the door and automatically reached for her weapon. Not finding it, she bolted upright, and in a split second, she had her bearing. Tossing her legs over the side of the sofa, she wiped a hand down her face to remove the remains of another dream featuring Lance. This time, however, it morphed into Lance’s final moments where he told her all she’d learned from the information Bev had overnighted. In her dream, she’d vowed to him to avenge him. Then, when Jesse and Ken visited her after Lance’s death, she’d reacted differently than the first time they’d arrived. Later, her and Ken’s kiss had them on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall. That was the point she woke.

With a quick glance at her watch, she swiveled her head to peer outside the window where dusk had fallen. Glowing streetlights broke through the darkness, brightening their small part of the sidewalk. Her thirty-minute nap had turned into a couple hours.

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