Page 20 of Trigger Discipline
“Sure, you could,” Gabriel agreed, folding up his map. “If you were coming with me.”
Blake rolled his eyes. “Are we going to do this? I’ve seen this movie. You’re the soldier with a job to do. I’m the localwho knows how to get there. You don’t want to take me because it’s dangerous andblah blah blah. We can argue about it for twenty minutes, and I will still get my way. Or you could just agree that it’s a good idea and we can avoid the whole cliché.”
Gabriel didn’t know how to respond to that. His knee-jerk reaction was to ignore Blake altogether, but he took a minute to think. For theclichéof it all.
It wasn’t that he didn’t think Blake was right. Of any local, a paramedic who spent most of his shifts on these streets was the ideal person to take along. He would know all the shortcuts. And he’d proven himself capable and quick on his feet.
But Blake was a liability. One that weighed heavily. And he was already carrying so much.
“You said you guys volunteered for this. Why?” Blake’s face was serious. “We both know DC is lost. This is a suicide mission.”
Gabriel wished the answer was complicated. But it wasn’t. Not really. Each of them had their own reasons for being here. All of them valid. All of them selfish.
“What’s the point in living if I can’t live with myself?”
Blake didn’t answer. Gabriel didn’t expect him to. He was still trying to figure it out himself.
Gabriel was seeking redemption at the end of his rifle. Atonement with every bullet he fired. He wasn’t sure if he could buy salvation with blood, but it was all he had. He would spill the blood of his enemies until it wasn’t enough, and then he would give his own. Not for some fabled promise of eternity, or a divine reward he knew he didn’t deserve.
For this life. For the one he took. For the one he almost lost.
Because he didn’t know what else he was supposed to do, and if he stopped to consider that, he’d lose his fucking mind.
And if he added Blake’s life to all of that, he wasn’t sure he could take another step.
“So let me volunteer,” Blake argued. “Let me do something. Let mesavesomething. Please.”
There it was. Under the thin veneer of his pushiness was the truth. Blake was a savior, whether he wanted to admit it or not. And not being able to help, of constantly losing, was taking its toll.
Gabriel understood. He hated it. But he understood.
He exhaled out his nose. “Fine.”
Blake didn’t smile. He didn’t thank him, either. He just turned back to his jump bag, beginning to sort things into piles.
Phin barreled into the room bringing with him the harsh smell of sweaty male. Gabriel laughed when Blake wrinkled his nose.
The grenadier noticed his face and cocked an eyebrow. “Too manly for your delicate sensibilities?”
Blake didn’t rise to the bait. He stared Phin down. Or rather, up. Phin was a good head and shoulders taller than the medic.
“I’ve been in moldy crack houses that smelled better than you.”
“That right?” Phin sidled up to Blake, looking down his nose at him. “That your thing?”
It was friendly on the surface. Two guys coming off an adrenaline high, taking the piss out of each other. But there was something more. Phin was too sharp. Too confrontational. His easy grin, the one he used to make himself seem harmless despite his size, was gone.
“No,” Blake drawled, refusing to step up to Phin. “But if you get on your knees, I’d be more thanhappyto show you what I like.”
Gabriel choked, coughing to hide from his friend’s harshglare. Phin yanked his helmet off. “Can’t wait to whip it out, huh?”
“Someone’s got to show you what a real dick looks like.”
There was no hesitation. Blake’s barbs were fast, not a trace of hesitation in the face of Phin’s rapidly declining mood.
The big guy’s fist clenched, and Gabriel hissed at him. Phin faked a smile, the corners of his mouth cracking like granite before he moved off. He tossed his helmet onto the couch with a little more force than necessary and began removing his body armor.
“You didn’t need to do that,” Blake mused lightly, still watching Phin’s back.