Page 28 of Delta

"Had me in the first half," he says, chuckling. "You really want me to explain? Or is this where playful banter gets my head done in when I take it too far?"

"Speaking from experience, are you?" I ask, laughing.

"Let's just say that, speaking from personal experience, I'd rather walk into a firefight unarmed than deal with a woman I've pissed off with jokes about her body."

"I don't know where to start with that statement, Rush."

“Don't start, then?" He laughs.

"I mean, you can't say something like that and then expect me not to ask questions."

He sighs. "Such as?"

"You've been in a firefight unarmed?"

"Oh yeah. That was a fun one."

I just stare at him expectantly.

"Fuck. Fine. Story time, is it?" He rubs his jaw. "My first tour in Afghanistan. Me and my unit were supposed to be working with one of your Yank SEAL teams to take out an H-V-T in the mountains."

"Sorry, sorry, but I have to ask. You weren't regular army, were you?"

He grins. "Nah, love. S-A-S."

"Figures. The way you dropped those four, yeah, I pegged you as an operator."

His gaze sharpens on mine. "Familiar, are you?"

"Let's just say yes, I'm familiar. You might say it's sort of a…family business."

"Shoulda known when you didn't go into hysterics."

"Hysterics are for later. I'm saving it. Right now, I need to be Badass Bryn."

"That's the spirit, innit?" He grins at me. "I've got questions, but we can get to them later. So, yeah. We had a hell of a hike into the mountains. Supposed to rendezvous with the Yanks at a specific location and time. Remember, this was my first deployment. I'd been in the military for a few years by then, but I hadn’t seen combat yet. I got pulled into the S-A-S, trained up, assigned to a unit, and shipped out. Very first mission, we're totally fuckin' lost. Those mountains are no fuckin' joke, and that ain’t a word of a lie. Brutal place, that is. Top of the world, can't breathe for shit, everything looks the same. You're always cold. Fuckin' miserable. Nothin' to eat but tinned rations. Might be T-M-I, but it's important to the story—I was all clogged up. Know what I mean? Pipes were plugged. So, I was off on my own, fightin' for my life. Cliff edge was a few feet away. I mean, one wrong move and I'm taking a thousand-foot tumble."

"I can't imagine that helps you relax your bowels," I say.

"Nah, not exactly. I'd set my rifle aside so I could balance. I was halfway to success, if you know what I mean. Had a loaf half-pinched off."

I make a disgusted face. "Yes, Rush, I knew what you meant. I was good with the euphemism. Don't need the details."

He just chuckles. "Well, of course, that's when the enemy decided to ambush us. Heard the gunfire start up, heard my mates shouting and what all, tryin' to find cover and figure out where the tangos were. Bullets were whipping over my head, and my mates were yelling for me, so I, y'know, shook off the halfsie and ran for my mates. Forgot my fuckin' rifle."

I can't help but laugh. "No! That's, like, rule number one. You never, ever, let your rifle out of your sight."

"I know, believe me. When I got to where my mates were taking cover, I got reamed out, and I mean all the fuckin' way. My C-O damn near killed me himself for that stunt. And of course, by the time I realized I'd forgotten it, we were taking fire too heavy to go back for it. So I had to plink at the bastards with my sidearm. I never did live that one down."

"You made it out okay, though, obviously."

“Yeah. The Yanks showed up and helped us sort the fuckers out proper-like. Our target'd done a runner by then, though, so it was all for nothing."

"And the whole jokes about a woman's body?"

He glares at me. "She asked if the dress she was wearing gave her a fat arse."

I snicker. "Oh, shit. You said something idiotic, didn't you?"