Page 234 of Bossy Hero

“Global warming’s gonna kill us all,” he jokes.

“Only if Lenkov doesn’t do it first.”

Mia’s voice sails through the comms. “Boss, the peanut gallery doesn’t find your joke amusing. Might want to dial back the dark humor.”

I chuckle to myself as I retrieve my binoculars from my pants. “Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t realize this was a show. Which fuckface wants a refund for their tickets?”

As far as I know, it’s only Tomer and Klein in the lair with her. Everyone else who would be inclined to watch the op is in Miami.

Then again, it could be Lettie.

Wait. Did I accidentally call my daughter a fuckface? “Mia, who’s watching with you? Is Lettie in there?”

“Yeah, she is. But, uh... some newcomers arrived about two minutes ago.”

“Who?”

Her sigh crackles the line. “Maddie and Sue are also watching with us. Sammy will be in and out as well, depending on how the babies do with Val. We’ve got a full house.”

“Tell them I said hello,” I sputter awkwardly, tamping down my urge to rage at whoever let them leave Sawyer’s house.

Although... I didn’t give orders to hold them forcibly. Even in a situation as dire as this, I wouldn’t want them held against their will. And they’re safe at Redleg.

Butfuck.

Maddie’s gonna be furious at me.

More importantly, her worry over my safety will be far worse than it needs to be. Which is why I didn’t tell her.

She’s spent her entire life scared. Even when I try to spare her, I can’t seem to do it.

However, her location change does present us with a silver lining.

“Mia, if the ladies are at HQ, does that mean Henderson, Josh, and Aaron are available?”

“Affirmative. They’re gearing up,” she responds. “Tell me where you want them.”

“Send them to my location. The sooner, the better. They can enter the same way we did.”

“Wilco,” Mia responds.

I continue scanning the horizon. “We’ve got movement at the east gantry.”

“I have visual,” Jonesy says, his voice steady. “Looks like a group of crane operators. NSTR.”

“Copy that.” I roll out my shoulders and wipe my brow again. “Mia, have we picked up any chatter yet?”

“Negative, Big Al. Nothing raising any alarms. Not on the cameras either.”

Using drones last night, we dropped a network of hidden listening devices around the wharf. There’s a designated group at HQ listening for keywords and helping the intel team monitor the surveillance camera feeds from both Tampa and Miami. They can see everything.

“No news is good news, right?” I mutter, shifting my weight and twisting my waist to stretch my lower back. I’m not used to having all this fucking gear on. Forgot how heavy it is.

The morning has been uneventful. No doubt, it’s the calm before the storm.

We’re getting closer to prime time as the shipyard comes alive. Dockworkers and longshoremen have arrived to start their daily grind. Trucks are lining up in the staging area, waiting to be loaded or unloaded. Forklifts are moving into place.

I’m nestled between a long row of shipping containers, watching the gated entrance and service area on one side and the container terminal on the other. Jonesy’s overwatch position is on the roof of a cabin, perched on a three-hundred-foot-tall ship-to-shore crane. He selected a spot that provides him a view of the shipping berths we suspect Lenkov might use.

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