Page 24 of Legacy's Destiny

“Yeah,” Echo said with a grimace. “I wouldn’t be happy with that arrangement.”

Bandit shrugged. “Most women aren’t. But we all have the option to leave the team and do something else within the organization if we want. Right now, this is where I want to be.”

“Damn glad to hear it.” Deacon’s voice cut through the comms, sharp and authoritative. “We’re on our way back.”

“Copy,” Rip replied.

“Where’s Rip?” Echo asked, looking around.

“Overwatch,” Bandit said, glancing up at the treetops. “He’s making sure no one’s in the area. That’s why Cap told him they’re on their way back. Friendly fire isn’t exactly a goal here.”

“As if I’d shoot without identifying the target,” Rip scoffed.

“There was that time in North Vietnam …” Ranger’s teasing drawl echoed through the comms.

Rip grumbled, “Yeah, well, you suck at making coffee.”

Echo smiled at the low rumble of laughter that followed. Bandit looked up and winked at her. “He does suck at making coffee.”

“I do,” Ranger agreed.

Rip’s tone turned serious. “I see you. Nothing on your six so far.”

“Copy,” Deacon acknowledged. Echo turned as the team entered the clearing. Deacon’s sharp gaze went straight to her, his frown deepening when he saw Bandit wrapping her feet. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?” he asked, his voice tight with frustration.

She narrowed her eyes. “Would you have stopped if it were your feet?”

“That’s not the point,” he said, dismissing her protest. “You’re part of this team now. Everyone here is an asset, butmore than that—you’re family. We take care of our own. You shouldn’t have let it get this bad.”

Bandit worked quietly, his hands efficient and sure. Echo shrugged. “Well, it’s water under the bridge now. But I promise I won’t gut it out again.”

Deacon sighed, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as if trying to massage away the weight of leadership. His voice softened. “Sorry if I snapped.”

Echo grinned, her eyes bright despite the exhaustion etched into her features. “It’s okay, Sparky. You’re just passionate about your people. I get that.” She paused, tilting her head in thought. “What did you see at the camp? From the satellite images we could get, it didn’t seem as advanced as the last one.”

“Decoy and deception,” Ranger interjected, his voice a low rumble. “What’s visible is stone-age tech, basic and clunky. But the parts hidden under high-tech camo? That’s where the real stuff is.”

Echo glanced between Ranger and Deacon, the gears in her mind turning. “Do you think they’d bring the device here? There are no roads, no real access points. At least the last site had the Nam Ou River nearby.”

Deacon sat beside her on the rock, the heat of his presence contrasting with the cooler stone beneath her. Bandit worked quietly at her feet, his hands steady and methodical. “There are three overwatch positions triangulated for maximum coverage, each set to repel anyone approaching through the jungle. The underground facilities include one with multiple antennas, and two are satellite-based. There’s a helipad under the camo netting, and their electricity comes from hydro-generation powered by a nearby stream branching off the Nam Ou River.”

Echo frowned, her brow furrowing deeply. “I didn’t know hydropower could work on such a small scale.”

Deacon nodded, his gaze steady on hers. “They’ve got three turbines that can generate between fifteen hundred and two thousand watts each. It’s enough to keep their operations running.”

She drew a slow, steadying breath, her shoulders tensing. “So, how do we get in and retrieve the device? And how do we even know it’s there?” Her voice dropped, and she sighed. “You’re putting your lives in danger for people you don’t know.”

Deacon’s smile came slowly, warm and sure like the first light breaking through mist in the morning. “We do that for every mission. It’s what we do. We do what others can’t to protect the innocent. We’re the razor-sharp edge of the sword of justice.”

Echo stared at him, her chest tightening with an emotion she couldn’t quite name. Another piece of her heart drifted toward this impossibly real, incredibly steady man. Sitting next to him in the heart of the Laotian jungle, surrounded by the sounds of chirping insects and rustling leaves, she felt the weight of her feelings settle in. He wasn’t a dream. The aches, blisters, and bites were proof enough of that. But it could be the fact that they were thrown together after that fantastic night of sex, too. There was so much going on, her emotions felt like they were on a seesaw, and she had no idea which way was up.

She leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder. The simple gesture felt like surrender, which terrified her. This man was becoming important—not just for her safety on the mission but in ways that made her worry. She wanted to talk to him. To see if she were insane, a borderline stalker, or maybe just wacked in the head for having thoughts like this, but with the team listening in, she chose instead to ask, “When do we go into the camp?”

“Wedon’t,” Deacon replied, his voice firm. “You’ll stay here. The team will go in, secure it, and bring it back to you.”

Her head snapped up, eyes narrowing as she turned to face him. “What?”

Deacon raised a hand, cutting off her protest. “Before you get on your high horse, I’d do this with any asset, not just you. If you get hurt or killed during the infil or exfil, who’s going to access the information on the device? Not any of us.”

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