Page 52 of The Story of Danny Rose

Yeah, that needed to be said too.

“We had a saying in the SAS,” I said. “Don’t disturb the local flora and fauna. As in, don’t meddle with the local culture, no matter how twisted it is.”

Danny just closed his eyes and scrubbed his hands over his face again.

“If it’s any consolation, you’re unlikely to get sent to these places when you first start out,” Darius said. “With your fields of expertise, I’m pretty sure the handlers will give you combat-oriented contracts. You’re more of a pathfinder, security escort, and intel retriever.”

He wasn’t wrong. I couldn’t foresee Danny handling extractions anytime soon. He had skill sets much better used in other areas.

“But I’m still gonna see it at some point, right?” Danny grumbled. “Especially in the desert.”

Darius and I exchanged a pensive look, and I bet we were thinking the same thing.

I chose to answer. “There’s a difference between whatsomeof those people grew up with, thinking it’s normal behavior—and I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. You will definitely see animal abuse and children in harm’s way in the Middle East. But there’s something more sinister about the Western men who own property in South America to live out their sadistic fantasies in human trafficking.”

Darius nodded with a dip of his chin. “On the flip side, we usually get to act more freely with those fuckers. Or so I’ve heard. I’ve only had one gig down there.”

“You were in Belize this February, weren’t you?” I asked.

“Yeah. Fun times.”

“What happened there?” Danny wondered.

“Large-scale op to take down a trafficking ring outta Texas,” Darius said. “They called it a rape farm. Twenty young girls were freed—and I accidentally had my finger on the trigger once or twice when I came upon self-proclaimed slavers.”

Danny muttered a curse and shook his head. “You see a lot of shit in a war zone, but you don’t seethat.”

“It’s worth it if we get to do some good,” Darius answered, finishing his food. “Not that it doesn’t leave scars. Good luck handling that.”

I cocked a brow at him. “It’s easier to deal with if you actually go to all the recommended sessions with a counselor, punk.”

“I go to a place in Seattle occasionally,” he defended. He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Now I’mma go upstairs and get my papers. Apparently, I’m flying commercial to Brussels and Cyprus, and then I’m hitching a ride with the Queen’s finest.”

“Is anyone meeting you at the border?” I asked.

He nodded and stood up with his tray. “Mossad. They’re investigating a mole problem in Shin Bet. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

Oof. He had his work cut out for him, then. And it explained why he’d avoid entering the country with his passport in hand.

“Good luck, kid.”

“Thanks.” He nodded at Danny. “Not that you need it, but good luck in Ecuador.”

“Thank you.” Danny straightened in his seat, and we watched Darius walk out after discarding his tray. “Was he allowed to tell you that?”

I shrugged and got back to my meatloaf. “I’m still his CO, so he can tell me anything.” I wagged my fork at him. “You just make sure to keep your cute mouth shut.”

He grinned. “Yessir.”

Good. I jerked my chin toward the buffet area. “Go grab something to eat.”

The following Monday, I was itching to sit in on every class Danny had. He’d only been gone for two and a half days, and it’d been too much. Too much without something greater tying us together.

I’d picked him and two large bags up at the airport, and I’d almost blurted out those three words right then and there.

The toughest part had been when he’d called me in the middle of the night on Saturday. He’d struggled to fall asleep, and he’d admitted he hated his apartment.

Give it up. Cancel your lease. Move in with me.

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