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“Damn, is Ranger getting bigger?”
“Think so. He’s always pushing weights when we have them or doing bodyweight exercises. I’d call him hyper, but he’s so fucking chill, it would be a misnomer.”
“Wraith will be glad to see him. This way.” They moved away from the tents, and Ronan nodded to the tent next to the one Fleur occupied. “That tent belongs to the camp lead, Miller Dupre.”
Deacon nodded. “Noted.”
“And this one belongs to Fleur Buchanan.” He opened the flap, and Deacon went in ahead of him.
“Hey, you.” Fleur smiled up at Deacon and then noticed Ronan. Her eyes went wide. “Holy smokes. You guys are almost identical. You didn’t tell me he was your twin, did you?” She walked over to Ronan, and he dropped his arm over her shoulder.
“I can’t remember. Fleur, this is Deacon. Deacon, Fleur.”
She extended her hand, and Deacon took it. “A pleasure to meet you. He talks highly of you.”
Fleur blushed. “Yeah, well, I think he’s pretty awesome, too.” She smiled up at him, and then her face fell. “I’m glad you’re here. Camp Seven can take most of our IDPs. They’ve added four acres of tents.”
“When do they want us to bring them?”
“We can start tomorrow, but that isn’t what you wanted.” She glanced at Deacon. “Does he know?”
“He does if you’re talking about the Tuesday connection,” Deacon answered for himself. “So, let’s go tomorrow. We can take one through without any concerns and ensure we have the route scouted.”
“I’d need to make notifications and, at a minimum, let my superiors know what’s going on.” Fleur rolled her bottom lip between her teeth.
He reached up and, using his thumb, pulled the lip out of her teeth’s clutches. “Stop worrying. The three of us will review the notification checklist, and we’ll identify the notifications we want you to make.”
Deacon nodded and pointed to Ronan and then himself. “And we’ll take the heat if someone gives you a rash of shit about being left out of the circle-jerk.”
Fleur blinked and then laughed. “He’s just like you.”
“Pretty much,” they both said at the same time.
Ronan pulled her notification notebook toward him. “Okay, so let’s cut the fat and all the bullshit out of this list.” He flipped it open and pointed to the first page.
Deacon flipped the page and then flipped another. “Well, this won’t work.”
“Right?” Ronan laughed. “I think I can remember five calls that need to be made. Six if you push it. She has four pages of bullshit. People wanting to be important if you ask me.”
“No doubt.” Deacon sat down. “Do you have a marker?”
“I do.” Fleur gave it to him. “It’s permanent.”
“Good,” both he and Ronan said at the same time. Deacon started to cross out the notifications that were complete bullshit. Ronan pointed to those that would endanger their route and the ones that made his eyes bleed from rolling so hard. By the time they finished, Fleur had four notifications to make.
“Okay, so I should make these … when?” She looked at him, then at Deacon, and then back at him.
“After we roll out tomorrow morning,” Ronan said.
Deacon nodded. “Concur.”
“He’s going to have a small fit. He’s going to know as soon as we start loading.”
“Then we’ll tell him at that point.” Ronan shrugged. “He’s not going to stop us from going.”
Fleur leaned down, looked at the box, and drew a deep breath before letting it out. “I hope you’re wrong about Miller.”
“So do I,” Ronan said, but he was damn near certain he wasn’t. There was too much circumstantial evidence mounting against the man.