Page 45 of Legacy's Call

Jug grunted. “So should you.”

“What do you need?”

“Shelly doesn’t need to be in this tent. That bullet the fucker shot toward Stryker took out a guideline.” He pointed to the obvious fix to the rope that kept the roof of the medical tent upright.

He nodded. “What does she think about that?”

“She’s ready to move. She was in the tent when the roof started to collapse. When I called her out to take care of the girl, she had tears in her eyes. Skipper, no one who works in these camps should be subjected to this shit.”

“Don’t I know it,” Ronan agreed with his friend. “I have tents coming in the shipment we’re receiving in four days. Five of them are personal size. One for Fleur and one for Shelly.” He looked at Jug. “For various reasons.”

The big guy scrubbed his face. “I haven’t acted on anything. She’s high class and a doctor, Skipper. I’m just me. High school education and a grunt in the military until you picked me up.”

“Your worth isn’t based on your formal education, Jug. You’re a valuable asset to this company. You’re worth your weight in gold, and, dude, you got a lot of weight.” He backhanded his friend’s stomach.

Jug laughed. “Thanks.” He rubbed his stomach and glanced at the medical tent. “I don’t know.”

“Let her make that call, Jug. Put yourself out there. The worst she can say is no.” Ronan crossed his arms. “You might be pleasantly surprised.”

Jug shrugged. “Maybe. Where are you putting Fleur’s tent?”

“Close to ours. We can put Shelly’s on the other side. Close, but not too close.” Ronan lifted an eyebrow.

Jug nodded. “Yeah, that would be good. I’ll talk to her in the morning when she wakes up.”

Ronan dropped a hand on his shoulder. “Get some sleep.”

Jug nodded and headed toward the tent. Ronan scanned the camp one last time before returning to his tent. When he entered the bunk area, he smiled. Someone had turned back his sleeping bag and placed his MRE neatly on the storage trunk.

“Your woman,” Wraith said from the dark.

“Figured.” He stowed his weapon and took off his web gear. He dropped on top of the sleeping bag, keeping his boots on. Until they figured out who was the fucking enabler in the camp, he needed to be able to respond at a moment’s notice.

“How deep are you?” Wraith asked from across the room.

“Over my head, man. Over my fucking head.”

A chuckle made it his way. “About time.”

“Right, and should we talk about you? Your folks would love for you to get married and settle down.”

There was silence for quite a long time before Wraith said, “Some things you can’t unsee.”

Ronan sighed. He got it. He knew exactly what Wraith was talking about. The man had to grow up fast, and he had. “I know. Someday, you might change your mind.”

Wraith made a noncommittal sound, and Ronan knew he was done talking. He closed his eyes and tried to calm his mind. It should be easy. He should be able to shut down, close up shop, and turn out the lights. Only his brain was running laps around the night's events, starting with that second kiss with Fleur. Fuck, he was gone over that woman, and that made zero sense since he’d only known her for a couple of days. The chemistry between them was hotter than the deepest trenches of hell. Satan would singe his flaming fingers on the heat they generated.

Ronan turned onto his side and tried to calm his mind. He focused on the person inside the camp. He flopped back onto his back. “Do you think theperson in the camp could be the same one who provided information on the convoys?”

“Damn good possibility,” Wraith said from the darkness.

But who?Ronan stared up at the roof of the tent. A staff member. How would they benefit? Monetarily? Yeah, but fuck, seven deaths and all those people taken. Did this person have any morals? The question had an obvious answer: Fuck, no, they didn’t.

Ronan’s eyes popped open,and he sat up immediately alert.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” Wraith said as he approached the exit flap of the tent.

“Time?”

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