Page 73 of Surge

He held it up to the sun and studied it. “Weird. There’s kind of a gap—a pocket—on either side. What even is this thing?”

Delaney lifted one shoulder, checked behind her, then inched nearer. “Garrett, I don’t want to imply anything, but what is Caldwell doing with a piece of plastic that Surge recognizes as Sachaai lipids?”

Staring into her eyes, he felt his heart jar at the verbal connection between this and the lipids. “I need to think about this.”

Surge sat in front of Delaney and pawed at the pocket of the olive green jacket she was wearing. “Okay, buddy.” She pulled out the KONG and tossed it into the yard.

Bolting after it, Surge seized it in midair. Took turns which one of them he brought it back to as Garrett and Delaney threw it for him. Not a dumb dog, for sure. She finally reached into her magical pocket, and out came a bully stick. Her constant hoodies and jackets with pockets of dog stuff made him laugh. Surge dropped the KONG and sat politely in front of her, his tail wagging. She handed it to him, and he sank to the ground with a contented sigh.

Garrett leaned against the safe house. “What do you mean, something’s off with Caldwell?”

“The plastic, most of all. But there’s also living on tech twenty-four seven.” She looked him straight in the eyes. “And you punched him on another mission.”

“What does that have to do with this?”

“I thought it was just a piece of history, but now . . .” She waved her hand at the plastic he was holding. “I think your instincts might be spot-on.”

Yeah. He didn’t trust Caldwell, for sure now. He stuck the plastic in his pocket.

“So, what is it between the two of you, Garrett? You’re not a hate ’em, punch ’em kinda guy.”

He looked at her. “I punched Caldwell in Djibouti, over Sam and Tsunami.”

She nodded slowly and leaned against the safe house with him. “I get that.” Another captivating head tilt. “What happened?”

He’d told her about his dad’s rage. Yet she was still here. Willing to listen.

He cleared his throat. “We didn’t know Fahmi was in Djibouti. That bit of missing intel is what killed Sam—and Tsunami. So I punched Caldwell. With our history in Burma, I lost it.”

“Burma?”

He didn’t talk about this, especially after the call from his CO. But the gentleness in her eyes . . . he sucked in air. “My team was tasked with locating a missing American missionary woman there to help the people standing against the military junta. I found her, but bad intel made things go south. Sam and Tsunami had to rush in and pull us out of there.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Thank God for Sam and Tsunami. But you found her. You got her out of there. Of course Caldwell thought of you when he thought of undercover and leadership for this mission.” She crossed her arms with a sniff. “But bad intel. Both times. From Caldwell. Both times. No wonder you distrust him.”

“There’s more.”

Her hands fell to her sides. “Okay.”

“I did not re-up after Djibouti. I walked away from the Navy SEALs. But my CO called me a few days later. Grieved about Sam, he’d checked into the incident. Turns out Caldwell’s HUMINT contact in Djibouti was simply wrong. Then my CO checked into what’d happened in Burma. Turns out that contact was simply a liar. So technically, it wasn’t on Caldwell.”

“And still you don’t trust him.”

“Caldwell has a strong CIA operator record, or else Damocles wouldn’t have sent him out with this team. Wouldn’t even have allowed him to build a team for this mission.”

“Heath wouldn’t have sent me with Caldwell.”

He nodded. “He checked into it himself, before I even showed up at A Breed Apart.”

“Sounds like Heath.” She laughed. “He wanted to be certain I could trust you as leader. And at the same time, leadership means trusting the team.”

What, was she reading his mind? “Yeah. Not controlling them. God’s teaching me that.”

She chuckled. “God has a way of teaching us things, doesn’t He?”

“Yeah. I’m learning. Except truth is, I keep my eyes on Caldwell twenty-four seven.”

Her hand on his chest spread a warmth through him. “But after the cargo plane fight, you let Caldwell explain how he couldn’t have known about them. That’s leadership.” She screwed her face in thought. “Leadership doesn’t mean perfect, Garrett. God is perfect, not you or me.”

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