Page 50 of The Story of Danny Rose

I wasn’t privy to the details, but Sid was part of a larger detachment heading for Kandahar tonight. It was the first time I’d heard of Hillcroft sending a unit of eight operators.

“Fifty bucks he aces every test,” Darius said.

I chuckled and shook my head. “I’m not betting against that, kid.”

He grinned and tucked into his fish and chips.

I’d opted for meatloaf, because that wasn’t fish and chips. Allow me to havesomeBritishisms left. Mum gave me enough crap for not liking tea.

Even though I genuinely didn’t believe Danny would get here for lunch, I couldn’t help but glance at the entrance every now and then. I didn’t even know why I was nervous. He’d chosen to take tests within the fields he was already an expert, so it went without saying that he’d perform well.

Knocking those off the list would free up time for the things he needed to put more energy into, like infiltration, counterterrorism, and diplomacy. He’d made a face when I’d told him we’d rather use a client’s funds to bribe ourselves out of a situation than shoot our way out.

“Do you stay with family in Washington, or do you have your own place?” I asked Darius.

That was another thing on my mind this week. Danny was flying back to Kentucky this weekend to “pack a few bags.”

Darius furrowed his brow. “My own place. I mean, I live there.”

Huh. That one made me sit back. “You don’t consider yourself a resident here at all?” I did know he went home a lot, unless he was doing back-to-back gigs, but…

He grimaced and opened his water. “Not really. My condo here can be emptied in twenty minutes.”

Roughly a month ago, I could’ve said the same thing. But with Danny adding some stuff, mainly in the kitchen and our bedroom, I’d need at least forty-five minutes now.

My boy liked his gadgets.

“I’m not much for the city life,” Darius finished.

The real question was what Danny thought. Did he still consider himself to be living in Kentucky? Did he have plans to move here?

I was wary of bringing it up. He was focusing so hard on making it to Ecuador this November that I didn’t wanna add shit to his plate. At the same time, I believed we’d both feel better with concrete commitment. Not just saying things but to make an actual move. Such as, don’t renew the damn lease hundreds of miles away from me.

“But you didn’t ask because you wanted to know my situation,” Darius stated with a faint smirk.

I huffed and shoveled some food into my mouth.

These damn kids. You trained them, you worked with them, you helped turn them into excellent contractors—and then they used that shit against you.

“Eat your soggy fish,” I told him.

He grinned around a mouthful of food.

“Operator Payne!”

I snapped my gaze to the doors and automatically sat straighter. It was Danny, and he strode toward us with a determined expression. And happiness? He couldn’t really conceal the joy in his eyes, so I instinctively smiled in anticipation.

“Here we go,” Darius murmured.

Danny held up a folder and offered a smirk as he reached our table, and he slapped the folder between our trays. “Top scores in exfiltration, special recon, interpretation and accent detection in Farsi, counterinsurgency, resistance-to-interrogation, close combat, advanced weapons training, field communications, logistical support, hostage rescue, and demolition. Take that, you sexy old bird watcher.”

Holy fucking shit, was I proud. I picked up the folder and flipped it open, and sure enough. Highest score on each field in which he’d been tested. The types of weapons too, his precision skills, the distance, the caliber—all of it.

“What the hell’s left?” Darius asked.

“I gotta be grayer,” Danny replied. “We’re working on that. And profiling.”

I nodded absently, scanning his results.

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