Page 75 of Deadfall

“Syn! Let me look at that!” Mouse called.

The job tonight had quite frankly been a disaster from the beginning. Our intelligence had been wrong—an unlucky blip in our usually very consistent surveillance. Lev blamed himself, and it was made worse by the fact that most of us had sustained some sort of injury.

It had started with Riggs who argued with me the entire drive there about whether or not I was to stay in the van with Lev. By the time we got to the staging area, I was so pissed I threw myself out of the van without waiting on Riggs’ orders. Not the best tactic, but I was fed up with his stupid, chauvinistic lording over me. Once he’d realized bullying me back into the van wasn’t going to work, he’d stayed so close we’d provided the perfect target under fire, and both of us had been hit because of it.

I stalked into the war room, blind with rage. I ripped my destroyed shirt over my head and threw it against the wall, leaving me in my sports bra. I was so pissed off, the bullet wounds only ached, but I knew I’d feel them worse once the adrenaline ran out. I heard the rest of the men come into the house and set their gear down.

“Sit down, Syn,” Mouse said as he dug through his first aid kit. “Let me look at that.”

He gestured to the deep graze wound along my ribs. I also had a bullet lodged in my shoulder; it throbbed something fierce and made it hard to think clearly. I gritted my teeth and perched on the table, resigned to Mouse patching me up. A rough field dressing was wrapped around his head, he’d almost had his ear blown straight off by a close-fire gunshot. I hissed as Mouse applied antiseptic to the wound.

“Whew, those look like there’s a good story behind them,” Hangman limped in and eyed the prominent bear claw scars on my side. I glared up at him, but he only chuckled and gingerly lowered himself into a chair nearby.

“Come on, gorgeous, take my mind off the fact I sprained my ankle like an idiot,” he said.

“It was a grizzly,” I grumbled.

“No shit!” Hangman exclaimed, eyebrows raised. “Saw one of those out in Wyoming once. Massive beasts. Please tell me it wasn’t a mama—” I made a face and his eyes bulged. “Christ, girl!”

Hangman looked at my scars again, but a commotion at the door thankfully drew his attention. Jamal entered the room supporting a soot and ash covered Rex.

“Well, that was a disaster!” Rex yelled.

“Shhh,” Jamal pointed to his ears. “Unlike you, I didn’t blow my eardrums out. Where’s Jackal?”

Hangman shrugged and elevated his hurt ankle. “Probably slunk off to lick his wounds like he always does. He never wants help. Remember that time he lost a finger and we found him trying to stitch it back on himself?”

Jamal dumped Rex into a chair and sank down into one himself, then leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

“I tried to reassure Lev it wasn’t his fault—”

Rex squinted at Jamal in an attempt to read his lips. “Nah, man, not Lev’s fault!” He yelled.

“Jesus,” Jamal muttered. He turned to Rex and spoke louder. ”That’s what I said!”

Riggs came into the room holding a hastily ripped piece of fabric against the wound on his upper arm, which bled profusely. He looked pissed and about to go on a tirade until his attention swept over me. I watched his eyes drag down my body and he quickly snapped his mouth shut. His jaw clenched and when his eyes found mine again, they narrowed like he’d just been caught doing something he shouldn’t. I felt my blood heat—if he said something about me asking for it, I wasn’t sure if I could handle it. But, that’s not what came out of his mouth.

“You need to follow orders out there, Syn,” Riggs snapped.

“I really hope you’re not implying this is my fault,” I scoffed.

“Yeah, boss, this wasn’t—” Hangman tried to jump in, but Riggs talked over his protest.

“This isn’t the forest—those men aren’t bears,” he spat the word like it was pathetic to him. “This is the real world and when you disobey orders, people get hurt.”

“Disobey orders? What orders? You were so busy micromanaging me—”

“You left us exposed on multiple occasions. You didn’t communicate,” Riggs barked.

I interrupted. “If you just let me—”

“Let you what?” Riggs surged forward, fists clenched. “Make more mistakes?”

Mouse’s needle continued to poke and bite into my skin, holding me hostage when I really wanted to get up and get in Riggs’ face.

“You were crowding me,” I growled. “I know what I’m—”

“No, you obviously don’t,” Riggs scoffed.