It was the first time Rebecca had seen Rick look so sure of himself and prepared to carry out his assignment. Just another perk of command, apparently. She got to see her subordinates unravel from time to time while everyone else only saw them theway they were now—competent, confident, capable, ready and willing to do whatever it took to get the job done.
Especially with something like this, with individual Shade lives on the line.
Maxwell paused, giving the common room a tense moment of silence before ending this initial briefing. “Five operatives. That’s all I’m taking. Voluntary assignment.”
An explosion of hands in a multitude of sizes and colors shot into the air. In the widespread enthusiasm, Maxwell called out individual names, then those selected broke away from the rest of the gathered force to line up on the far side of the room behind the Head of Security.
Rebecca didn’t raise her hand. She didn’t need to. She’d be joining this rescue op tonight anyway, and if Maxwell had a problem with it, tough shit.
As soon as she had that thought, as if her Head of Security had learned to read her mind, Maxwell swung his gaze toward her but said nothing.
But he did incline his head in a barely visible nod, and that could only have meant one thing. Not explicitly that he wanted the Thon-Da’al with them on this one but more an acknowledgement of her right to be there, if she chose.
Of course she did.
Once Maxwell had selected his full team, the rest of the common room burst open in a sort of organized chaos specific to Shade. Rebecca strained to hear Maxwell’s directives when he spoke directly to his assembled team, but the sudden burst of activity everywhere else made it impossible until he shouted above all the noise.
“Recovery team, arm up and report to the armory. We move in twenty.”
Amidst the overwhelming bustle of activity and the shouts crashing against each other, Rebecca kept her gaze on Maxwellas he passed through the hubbub alone toward the hallway with the fastest route down to the garage.
She broke away from the others at the last second and followed him, waiting until the echoes from behind faded enough for normal conversation to take place.
“I know you like to drive,” she said, quickening her pace to catch up with him. “So I call shotgun.”
Maxwell stopped and spun around to face her, his scowl already fully formed.
Not the greeting she’d expected, but not entirely surprising, either. “You’re supposed to be in the recovery ward. Twenty-four observation, I heard.”
Rebecca shrugged as she caught up with him and kept walking. “I’m a fast healer.”
“Obviously,” he grumbled behind her, then took off after her.
“Don’t sound so surprised. I thought you already knew that about me.”
Then he came up beside her, matching her stride, and remained silent.
She could feel him studying the side of her face, that tingling energy and the ever-strengthening pull between them rushing across her skin as they headed toward the basement stairwell, side by side.
He had to be deeply confused. The last time he’d seen her, she had a wooden stake stuck halfway through her belly and had lost enough blood to leave her bedridden for a week, at least.
Yet here she was, perfect health, fully healed, out of that infirmary bed, and ready to ride out on this mission with the team he’d just assembled.
He paused again when they reached the top of the stairs, and Rebecca descended first anyway without slowing.
The Thon-Da’al didn’t have to explain herself, but if her Head of Security wanted a fuller explanation for why she was up andabout right now and how that was even possible, he’d have to ask her directly. It wasn’t the kind of information she could just offer freely to anyone.
It wasn’t the kind of information she could easily explain to him, either, should he ask her for a direct answer the way he clearly wanted. She’d have to come up with some other mostly believable excuse on the fly, but she’d leave that to him.
Right now, they had a rescue teams to arm up and ship out of headquarters and three captured operatives to recover. That that took precedence over everything else.
Maxwell must have considered all that as well, because he harshly cleared his throat before hurrying down the stairs after her. They descended the enclosed stairwell in silence while one or two small, murmured, and indecipherable conversations rose toward them from those who’d already made it to the garage.
When they reached the bottom landing, Rebecca stopped to shoot the shifter another quick glance. If there was anything he wanted to say to her before they shipped out, now would be the time.
He acted clueless to her gaze on him at first, but then he turned toward her and opened his mouth like he’d finally found something to say.
“Thereyou are. What took you so long?”