Page 22 of D-Day

When they received D-Day’s text that he had been contacted by Graham Butler’s closest friend, they immediately informedBailee. She pulled up information about Charlie Fisher that they had accumulated over time. Bailee bit her lip. “The problem is that if Charlie gets suspicious and starts testing D-Day, his cover could be blown. We can’t afford that. Relay the information we have on Fisher to D-Day, instruct him to engage, but to be careful.” She handed them an earbud. “Get to that bar, give him the earbud, and watch his back.”

He and Buck were his wingmen, so it seemed perfectly reasonable that they would accompany their boss to a meet. Buck texted D-Day Bailee’s instructions and the plan, along with the data on Fisher. The rest of the team prepared to infiltrate the bar and act as backup.

When they got to the location, D-Day was waiting at the curb with his backside against the bike, his arms folded. Zorro walked up to him and held out the earbud.

D-Day took it, arching his eyebrow at his teammate. He cleared his throat. “How’s the jaw?”

“Certainly not made out of glass,” Zorro said, unperturbed. He leaned in. He couldn’t help it. “How was your visit with Helen Buckard?”

D-Day stiffened, his jaw hardening.Bingo!Zorro nodded. “Want me to turn the other cheek?”

“Goddammit,” D-Day hissed. “Fucking shut up about her.” He glanced at Buck, telling Zorro that D-Day hadn’t discussed a damn thing with Helen’s brother.

It didn’t take much insight to realize D-Day was experiencing feelings he was having trouble dealing with, and Zorro stared at him, sympathetic to his problem, but adamant about what it was going to cost him if he didn’t deal with it. Being a SEAL wasn’t just a job for D-Day. It was everything to him, and something was holding him back from deciding whether it was fear or guilt, or even shame. It wasn’t something that could continue. D-Day was already breaking down and had somehow lost hisway. Zorro and his teammates weren’t just here for combat support. They were here for anything that affected the dynamic. D-Day was an integral piece that made this amazing machine work. “Not like you to break the rules. Answers lots and lots of questions.”

His words fell into an abyss of seething silence. Tipping Zorro off that, indeed, sex may have been involved, but this was downright special to D-Day, serious business. Oh, yeah, he needed his ass kicked all right. He was locked up.

And if that was the case, then D-Day had an obligation to talk to Buck. Now was not the time to bait D-Day, and Zorro wanted to in the worst way. He considered himself a catalyst, and he often got his ears burned or his jaw bruised, but the fireworks always seemed to make things much better. If there was this kind of crap buried in the midst of their team, it should all be brought out in the open. He would talk to D-Day about it later. Nothing good could come of keeping it under wraps. Not now.

“What are you two girls jawing about,” Buck growled. “We have something important to handle in case you forgot.”

“My mind is a steel trap,” Zorro said, tapping his temple as D-Day slipped the vital comm device beneath the blond hair covering his ear.

“Testing,” D-Day said, his voice still angry. Buck frowned but didn’t comment.

“Loud and clear,” Blitz nodded.

D-Day pushed off the bike and they started toward the bar.

D-Day’s jawwas as hard as a rock, his body poised for danger, but he hadn’t thought it would come from one of his teammates. Zorro had figured a hell of a lot out regarding him and Helen.Too much. He wasn’t sure what it was going to mean down the road, but he was sure that he really needed to talk to Buck before it got out. That would be a fucking disaster.

They entered the noisy, crowded place, and D-Day, from a mission and security standpoint, didn’t like these types of places. It was difficult to see who was packing, and way too easy to slip a knife into someone’s back.

The picture Bailee had sent alerted him to what Charlie Fisher looked like, since he had no damn clue. The other information was also very helpful. He started toward the brass and mahogany bar, his way barred by milling patrons, then a guy raised his hand at the bar, his face splitting into a grin. From what D-Day could glean about Graham, he was a grumpy bastard, so he kept the scowl on his face and pushed and shoved his way toward Fisher.

“Find out what he’s peddling. The NPA would be looking for something nice to go along with their triggers.”

“Mate!” Fisher called, sliding a cold bottle of beer into his hand, and D-Day took a long swallow.

“Bugger, mate, it’s hot here and even the mozzies can kill you,” he complained. Then he clinked bottles with Fisher. “What the fuck brings you to this mozzie-infested swamp?”

It was clear that Fisher was used to Graham’s bad-tempered ways. He grinned. “Still the old Graham, but you’ve bulked up, mate.”

“Have I?” D-Day said. “Just less beer, and more activity. Don’t want to get out of breath running from the authorities.”

Fisher laughed out loud this time. “Damn those bastards. Don’t they have anything else to do?”

D-Day chuckled.

“I’m brokering a deal with the New People’s Army, but as usual there’s always a middleman. In this case, it’s two. Taer and Lando Ambong.”

“I know them. Been trying to buy some nuclear triggers off them, but they refuse to sell. Says they’re earmarked for NPA.”

Fisher cocked his head. “That’s not like you, mate. If they don’t sell, you usually take. What gives?”

“I’m working my magic. Just a matter of time.”

Fisher’s eyes narrowed, giving him a once over, the grin fading. He took a swig of his beer. “Time isn’t something you usually waste. Remember at Bondi when we took this hell of a wave, and I got this because you rushed.” He pulled down the neck of his shirt, revealing a scar along his collarbone. Bondi Beach was a very popular tourist attraction in Australia.

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