Page 47 of Danger Close
Chapter Nine
Ricky was not proudof the clipboard thing.
Okay.Maybe he was a little proud.
Especially now, one-week post-mission, when the legend had grown to include “death by office supplies,” “assassination via admin,” and Hogan’s personal favorite, “death by bureaucracy.”
The first time someone slapped a fresh clipboard onto his locker door with a handwritten “Caution: Weaponized,” he’d flipped them off.
The second time, he’d laughed.
The third time, Sophia had carefully colored in a label that she no doubt had help with and it said, “Uncle Ricky’s Battle Board.”He’d nearly cried and hung it in the suite’s tiny kitchenette like it was the damn Medal of Honor.
Yeah.He was coping fine.
The Ridge was buzzing again.Fully staffed.Fully operational.A rotating roster of private and public contracts kept the training grounds full.Former Delta guys were running live drills with civvy consultants in one sector, and a corporate team-building nightmare was screaming through a mud pit in another.
The kids—Sophia, Ryan, and baby Celia—had the run of the central courtyard, and every operator on-site had quickly learned that Sophia took her new family duties very seriously.
Ryan tripped on a gravel path that morning, and the man Sophia now called “Uncle Blake” had nearly caught a rock to the head for laughing.
“I’m just saying,” Ricky had told Ezra later, “if the kids ever go feral, I’m putting money on Sophia as alpha.”
Ezra had smirked, proud and helpless.“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
He wasn’t wrong.Sophia had blossomed in the space of a week—learning to play, to laugh, to be.It was Ryan who showed her how to climb trees and belly-slide down the little hill outside the mess.Celia, barely walking, followed her like a baby duck.And Sophia?She was still protective, still watchful.But her crinkle-browed scowl had softened.
Sometimes.
The Ridge itself had leveled up, too.Trainers on salary.Marsh’s tech getting contracts that made bank.A brand-new AI-assisted drone calibration suite had just passed beta trials, and rumor was a major defense contractor had made Marsh an offer big enough to buy a private island.He turned it down and added solar panels to the comms roof instead.
“They don’t get to buy my toys and make war with them,” Marsh had said.“They pay me, I make war.”
It made sense.In a terrifying sort of way.
There were also moments of humor that Ricky hadn’t been expecting.Like that morning.
He was mid-stretch in the gym, wiping sweat from his brow after a sparring session with Hogan, when the man stomped back in wearing an expression that screamed mildly homicidal confusion.
“Everything okay, sunshine?”Ricky asked, tossing him a towel.
Hogan caught it, wiped his face, and groaned.“I swear to God, if he sends me one more damn emoji...”
Ricky blinked.“Who?”
