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“I’ve heard of you,” the first says as he pulls out his ID.
Gesturing to Aaron, I deadpan, “Whatever you heard, I’m sure it’s his fault.”
I pass the three IDs to Aaron, who walks away to call them in. “You two were in Estonia,” the female agent says. “You rescued that captured group of Navy SEALs.”
Shaking my head, I say, “We merely assisted their own commander in getting them out.”
Wanting to change the subject, I address the senior agent again. “I didn’t hear any birds landing.”
Aaron returns at that moment, nodding to me and passing the agents’ IDs back to them. “I hope you’re not planning on driving this stuff out of here,” he says.
“We’re not moving anything until we’ve investigated the site and inventoried everything here. We’ll use the sergeant and his men to pack up and provide security for the trip back to base.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to explain the risk he and his people are taking. I chance a look over at Aaron and receive a slight, negative shake of his head.
“Right. Where do you need us?”
“You two are dismissed. You may return to base.”
I hold the agent’s gaze for a moment, shocked that he’s discharging his most capable security force. Aaron tugs at my shirt to keep me from saying so, and I turn around and follow him out. Clear from earshot of the others, Aaron says, “I get military limitations, but it seems like they’re taking a big gamble here. There’s no way the terrorist supply chain is in the dark. They know that we’ve taken this cache by now. To still be here seven hours later is stupid.”
“And they’re not leaving any time soon. These guys are inviting an attack, and when it comes, they’ll have only a handful of soldiers to fight. Those Treasury badges won’t do them any good.”
Despite our concerns, we’re in no position to argue. Insubordination can result in our contract being canceled, which would reflect poorly on Knot’s company. So, we give the agents what they want and make the long walk back to the Sentinel.
The rest of the convoy has relocated closer to the smuggler’s hideout, leaving our transportation unguarded. Assholes. Unsupervised vehicles in the field can be as dangerous as an abandoned backpack at a train station. I draw my pistol and clear the area as Aaron drops to the ground to check underneath the carriage and inside the wheel wells.
Aaron announces that the truck is clear right as I finish my circuit around the body. A second pass has me inspecting places on the body where small amounts of explosives could be hidden, but I also fail to find anything out of place. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
During the drive back, I knock back a dose of ibuprofen since my last one wore off. The cut on my ribs hurts like a bitch. The area around the wound has swelled some, and the damned thing still needs to be stitched closed. That’s gonna be fun.
Aaron must have read my mind as he pulls out his phone and calls base. “Zach, we’re about half an hour out. Make sure Lawson is around to stitch up a cut.”
“Copy. What happened?”
“Some asshole pushed Sadie into a hole,” he growls.
“We’ll be ready.”
I stare at Aaron’s profile for a moment, shocked that he would tattle like that. Even more surprising was the violence still present in his voice. Sure, I’m pissed at Avara, but the fact that I was hurt in the Sergeant’s little hissy fit was only due to the awkward way I landed. He didn’t intend to hurt me. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t gladly return the favor, but it is what it is. I’ve dealt with a lot worse.
This schoolyard bully shit from Avara is not worth the energy or the ire Aaron’s expending. It’s certainly not worth riling up the others over.
By the time we make it back to base and climb down from the truck, I’m favoring my side even more. It hasn’t loosened up by the time we reach our block of rooms either. I tap Aaron on the arm to get his attention. “I think I need to walk and stretch a little before the others—”
I’m cut off when the door to mine and Chelsea’s room opens, and most of our team spills out into the hallway. Damn. Intending not to make this a big deal, I shoulder past Aaron to go inside my room and take a seat. The others follow, and Brock is the first to pull a chair over to inspect the damage. All Knot operatives can stitch a wound, but I’m glad Aaron didn’t volunteer, considering how worked up he is.
I pull my shirt up, tucking the edge under my bra like before. Brock’s jaw clenches when the bandage comes off, but he keeps his thoughts to himself as he pulls supplies out of a first aid kit. Aaron hovers close as Brock cleans, numbs, and stitches up the wound. As Aaron should have, Chelsea, Bash, and Zach have already moved on to discussing other things.
Brock ties off the last stitch just before Maxen storms through the door. He takes one look at my middle and slowly lifts his eyes to meet mine. “Who did it, Sadie?”
Everyone in the room stares wide-eyed at the rabid creature standing in the doorway. To cut the tension, I joke, “A mean bastard of a wooden crate. But don’t worry, I got my licks in too.”
Maxen is roaring now. “Don’t give me that shit! I want to know who put his hands on you!”
I need to de-escalate this before… before… hell, I don’t even know. I just have to shut this down. “Knock it off, Maxen. It’s no big deal.”
Maxen ignores me and glowers at Aaron. “Who touched her?”