Page 18 of Remade

“We’re not family, but you should be nice to me too,” Crew told him. “I gave you a protein bar.”

I suppressed a sigh. “Can everyone shut the fuck up and save questions for the end? It’s like you’retryingto outrun your intelligence. Christ.” I cleared my throat. “The bunker is fifteen yards wide. All right?”

I had to cool it. I worked with countless people who dicked around until the very last second, and there was nothing wrong with that. They were skilled enough to multitask. I just wasn’t used to a large op like this one. I preferred to work alone or with one or two other guys.

“Sir, do you want me to run my safety procedure spiel while you get some water?” Green asked me.

Brilliant idea. I nodded and took a step back. “Listen to Green. She will inform you how to proceed in the event we encounter explosives, toxic agents, or, you know, hostages. And Watts, you might wanna get a refresher on communication and signals from Quinn.”

CHAPTER 3

October 2nd, 2024

Bo Beckett

Just a little while longer.

We’d moved up our positions, so we were waiting along the tree line and, still, nothing. No sign of movement. Not even a light from the driveway down below.

We’d had two drones flying down there to provide footage—while remaining undetected—and no reaction from anyone inside.

The driveway reminded me of a valet zone in front of a hotel, without the decor. No revolving door either, but Coach had been right. We wouldn’t struggle much to get in.

My main question was if anybody was home.

My second question, while less realistic, held me back.

I took a drag from my smoke and stared out into the darkness.

The clock was ticking.

My men were probably wondering why I was stalling.

It’d been dark for over an hour.

I went over it in my head repeatedly. We’d detected no heat signatures, no movement, our spyfinder hadn’t located any hidden cameras, and…

I glanced over my shoulder when I heard steps approaching, and it was Ryan lighting up his own smoke.

“Are you wondering about the holdup?” I asked.

He shook his head and blew out some smoke. “No. Because I remember the first time we worked together.”

I let out a heavy breath. Of course he fucking got it. He’d been there. Looking out over this wide-open space pulled me right back there, only with much less green grass and way more sandy gray desert.

Aleppo.

“I know it’s unrealistic,” I hedged.

He shrugged. “But still plausible.”

Yeah.

Almost eight years had passed since we’d ended up in Syria together with four other operators, and it had been batshit crazy. That assignment had stayed with me; I remembered it like it was yesterday.

Twelve families with young children had run across an open field toward trucks that were supposed to take them over the border into Turkey.

They’d never seen the mines.

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