Page 21 of Brawler
Of course Flash’s voice crackled over comms, hushed like a nature documentary. “There she is, the fairy queen in her natural habitat, domesticating the K9 unit with salted pork while melting the frontal lobe of the operator formerly known as Brawler.”
Raw from his thoughts and the growing ache, Brawler’s growl was immediate. “Flash.”
“You’ve lost control, man,” Flash pressed, voice pitched like a commentator. “Of your Beast and your inner beast. She’s running circles around you, getting inside your head, swelling your dick with her cute pixie charm, and going beast-mode with your Terminator doggie. You’re fucked in layers. Fucking layers. Like a tactical baklava of bad decisions.”
“Shut.Up. Flash. Before I find a trash heap and make you part of it.”
Tex didn’t even lift his head from where he sat adjusting his sling. “Flash, stop antagonizing Brawler into killing you. The brass would frown on that.”
Emily, oblivious, scratched behind Beast’s ear. “Good boy. That’s right, sit. You like that bacon, huh?” She scribbled something in her notebook. “Subject exhibits protective loyalty, preference for female handlers, and responds positively to small doses of nitrates.” She shot Brawler a look that made him want to do something reckless and stupid. Stupid in his world always…always…got you killed.
Brawler muttered before he could stop himself, “He’s got good taste.”
Flash hissed with delight. “He said it. He admitted it. Pack it up, boys. Brawler’s officially down bad for the jungle pixie.”
Bondo ripped open a protein bar, glaring. “Flash, I swear to God, one more word and I’m stuffing a mag in your goddamn pie hole.”
Unbothered, Flash licked peanut butter off his thumb. “Make it a full one, cowboy. Can always use more ammo.”
Tex sighed. “Stop flirting, the three of you. We’re not dragging your bodies out if you kill each other. I’ve got dibs on Beast’s rations and Brawler’s whiskey stash.”
Emily looked at Beast like she was genuinely consulting him. “Did you hear that? Someone’s going to die. Who’s a good boy? Who’s going to inherit all the snacks?”
The laughter from the guys was affectionate, and he wanted to punch them all, the smug, married bastards.
Flash leaned back, seemingly calm and serene, but Brawler didn’t miss the dark circles beneath his eyes or the coiled tension thrumming just below the surface. His mind flashed back to the jump.
Twister had examined the oxygen feed on Flash’s rig, and he’d found a small puncture that had destabilized the air. A lot of the guys dismissed Flash’s ramblings as hypoxia, but Brawler couldn’t shake the unsettling thought that something real had happened to Flash up in the atmosphere.
“Beast’s living his best life. I want to be reincarnated as Emily’s field journal.” Flash’s grin was too quick, too sharp. Brawler knew the look…cover, and one that was starting to fray.
That was it. Brawler snapped open a pouch from his own MRE, dumped the meat chunks into Beast’s collapsible bowl, and set it down hard on the dirt. “Here. Eat like a warrior.”
Beast lifted his head, eyes flicking between Emily’s hand and the steaming pouch. The hesitation cut deep. Brawler felt it like betrayal. Finally, with one last hopeful look at Emily, Beast padded over and settled by his bowl.
Brawler exhaled through his nose. Pride reclaimed. Barely.
Emily wrote another line, lips twitching. “Subject demonstrates torn loyalties between the big bad operator and scientist. Ration hierarchy remains under review.”
Brawler snapped Beast’s harness on once the dog finished, giving Emily a look sharp as a blade.He’s mine.
She gave him a grin, her eyes dancing. Christ, she was turning his dog into a traitor and him into a fool, and he couldn’t seem to stop it.
“On your feet. We’re moving,” Tex said, the humidity thickening, cicadas shifting pitch, and distant bird calls goingsilent. The stillness closed in around them, dense as the heat, as if the jungle itself held its breath as they passed.
Emily capped her pen,slid the journal into her pack, then rummaged around. “Damn, running low on SD cards. How is that possible?” she muttered, almost to herself.
Brawler froze for half a second, the words digging in. He didn’t say anything. Just jerked his chin at the trail. “You’re with me, Shortcake.”
The line moved through the undergrowth, boots quiet, eyes sharp. Emily kept pace, her pack straps digging into her shoulders, the weight familiar now. She wasn’t about to fall behind, not when the men around her carried it like second skin.
She walked alongside Brawler, careful not to crowd him or Beast. This was their office, the jungle their corridors, and she had enough respect to know when she was in someone else’s workplace. Still, it was her workplace too, at least for now, and she’d be damned if she shrank in it.
Back in camp, she’d felt him watching her, compelling her. She’d looked at him. Electric. Impossible to ignore. She’d looked down, buried herself in Beast’s ears and her notebook like a coward, scribbling observations she’d barely registered. Anything to keep her fingers moving so she wouldn’t give in to the urge to meet his gaze again.
Now on the trail, the weight of it followed her. The way his body moved ahead of her, the very definition of point man, lethal economy in every stride. He wasn’t something she could look away from. His shoulders rolled under the pack as though the load weighed nothing. His stride cut clean and sure through a landscape that left her tripping over roots, something she hadn’texpected from such a big man. He didn’t just move through the jungle. He commanded it. Damn her, she kept staring.
Once, he glanced back. Just a flick of his head, checking his six,checkingher. She caught the color of his eyes, and the sight stole her breath. Stormlight on rock, elemental and unyielding. The kind of color that didn’t shift with mood but with weather, and that thought unsettled her more than jaguars or men with guns ever could.
