Page 7 of Fast Vengeance

“I’ll grab some groceries on my way home. Does seven work?”

“For me, it does. I’ll check with my team and get back to you. Okay?”

“Okay. Talk to you soon.” They ended the call, and he found himself smiling despite the traffic as he took the next exit a quarter mile up, diverting to the grocery store. After picking up everything he needed, he headed home on the feeder routes, unpacked everything and tidied up his condo even though he’d had a cleaning service come by a few days before he got home.

He was in the middle of unpacking when Victoria texted that she’d be over at seven. Brock gave her his address, put away his bags and got busy prepping dinner. He was a pretty basic cook and rarely cooked for anyone. Burgers, steaks. Except Victoria didn’t eat beef now, because it reminded her of the night her family had been killed.

He blew out a breath, eyed the ingredients laid out on the counter. Really, how bad could he screw up chicken and grilled veggies?

Bad enough.

He could have looked up a recipe online. Except he wasn’t much good in the kitchen even with written instructions. So he swallowed his pride, came to his senses and dialed the team’s foodie and food inhaler, Maka. Who hopefully wasn’t already so deep in homecoming bliss with his girlfriend Abby that he would still answer his damn phone.

“Cap. What’s up, brah?” his teammate answered.

Thank God. “I need some cooking assistance.”

“Yeah?” He sounded surprised. “So, let me get this straight. You pull a stunt like that at Bagram, have the entire team dog pile on me just so you can steal the belt, and now you think you can call me up and ask me for help?”

While at Bagram they’d formed a superhero wrestling league a few weeks in to pass the time. “Yeah. And by the way, it’s hanging over my desk in my office right now.”

Maka chuckled. “That’s cold, man, but fine. I dig that you need my help.”

God, maybe he should have just risked burning everything instead of making this call. “Uh huh. So? Yes or no?”

“Of course yes. You want to ask me, or Abby?”

“You’ll do. So I’m making chicken and grilled veggies for company. Peppers, zucchini and stuff.” Seemed simple enough when he’d seen something similar cooked on the food channel.

“Okay. Whaddya want to know?”

“How do I make it taste good?”

Maka huffed out a laugh. “What kind of seasonings you got?”

“I dunno, some stuff in the cupboard. Basic stuff.” He glanced at his watch. “And I gotta be honest, I don’t have long to get this done.”

“Why, who you having over?”

“A friend.”

“A female friend?”

Brock had no trouble picturing the eager expression to match that tone. “Maybe.”

Another low laugh. “All right, be all secretive. Here’s what you need.”

Brock pulled out every single spice he owned from the pantry. All five of them, including salt and pepper. Maka declared the remaining three totally useless and revolting for chicken and veggies. “Yeah, well, that’s all I’ve got. Work with me.”

“That is just so sad and wrong,” Maka said in disgust. “Man, I’m going with you to the store tomorrow so you can have stuff on hand that will actually make your food taste good. Damn, Cap.”

He flushed. “I eat out a lot.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you do with only that in your pantry.”

“Okay, so my seasonings suck. Now what?”

It took some doing, and Brock had to run next door and ask his elderly neighbor for some basil and balsamic vinegar—which she thankfully had. Once he had all the instructions from Maka figured out, he went into frantic chef mode.

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