Page 16 of Deadly Strain

She couldn’t maintain eye contact and let her gaze skitter away. “Strategy, tactics, and figuring out who the enemy is are not my strong suit.”

“That’s not what I’ve seen from you before now and definitely not what I’ve heard.”

That caught her attention. “Heard?”

“You were awarded the Bronze Star a couple of years ago.” He said it almost gently and she scowled at him.

She shouldn’t be surprised he knew about that. Hell, the whole A-Team probably knew about it. There was just one problem. She wasn’t proud of what happened two years ago. “I was doing my job, and it went horribly wrong.” She spun around and took a couple of steps toward the Sandwich. “Other people deserved that medal more than I did.”

“That’s what all the heroes say.” It was a low whisper.

She jerked to a stop and stared at him, but he was already talking to Bart. “Get us a ride. Something close and fast.”

“One magic carpet ride coming up,” he said. “ETA, ten minutes.”

“Thatwasfast,” Grace said to Bart. “What did you do, make the request when I wasn’t looking?”

“Leonard had the aircraft waiting on standby in case we needed a quick pickup.”

“You guys think of everything.”

Sharp nodded at her. “Have you got everything you need?”

She glanced at the Sandwich. “Everything I need is right there.”

“Get it ready for transport, boss.”

As she moved to do it, Sharp called for Rasker, Williams, and three of their security detail to join them.

Grace got the samples squared away in multiple zipped plastic baggies, then put them all in a biohazard travel container and threw the strap over her head.

She took the bleach and sprayed down the suits of everyone leaving so they wouldn’t contaminate the interior of the bird.

The thud of the helicopter’s rotors beat against her skin before she saw it. Sharp and the men who were coming with her gathered around her in a protective huddle.

It landed, kicking up dust and dirt, and they raced to get in. Sharp leaned over the pilot’s shoulder for a minute and she could tell from the rising tension in his body that the conversation wasn’t all happy, happy, joy, joy.

Finally, Sharp patted the pilot on the shoulder and sat down in the jump seat next to her. The helicopter took off.

“What were you and the pilot talking about?” she yelled at Sharp.

“Our destination,” he yelled back. “He had orders to return to the forward base, but I told him Marshall wasn’t in charge of this party anymore.”

“Marshall had given himotherorders?” Wanting to get the job done quickly was one thing. Interfering with an investigation of this magnitude was another. She had hoped to avoid another confrontation with Marshall, but it looked like one was going to happen anyway.

“Yeah, but don’t worry. One doctor, two Green Berets, and one situation-specific colonel beat one regular army colonel in this poker hand.”

She scowled at Sharp. “We’re not playing poker.”

“Sure, we are,” he said. “We’re playing to win.” He patted her knee. “Close your eyes and pretend you’re sleeping, Doc. We’re okay.”

Oh, she very much doubted that.

The flight got bumpy. Enough to bounce her out of her seat had she not been strapped down.

“I hate flying,” she yelled at the world as she hung on to her harness and prayed for deliverance. The constant engine vibration and turbulence bumps had her stomach on strike and trying to crawl up her throat. “Ireallyhate helicopters.”

“Want a barf bag, Doc?” the soldier sitting on the other side of her asked as he tried to hide a grin. Tried and failed. Vomitinginsideher suit would not be fun.

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