Page 35 of Red Marked

Magma and I have been texting. I brought him up to speed earlier. As I suspected, they are not willing to send in a team. I’m glad because I don’t want to expose those females to whatever it is they’re afraid of.

We reach the fuel depot and crouch in the black strip along its wall. On the other side of the yard, a flashlight’s beam swings arcs along the inner fence. All the guards can see well in the dark, but it doesn’t hurt to have a little extra help.

Right now, I’m pissed at myself for insisting on that particular piece of equipment. I note that it does make our guards easy to spot. I will have to change the SOPs to have some guards without them.

I hold up a hand, signaling everyone to be very quiet. We crouch down. We’ll wait a minute or two until it is safe to continue.

Brian’s breathing changes, and I look over at him. His eyes have gone wide above his hand, which is clamped over the lower half of his face. His shoulders start to hitch, and he pinches his nose.

No.

Shit!

He sneezes. It’s loud.

Fuck!

The flashlight beam stops mid-arc and swings straight at us.

“Bless you,” Dane murmurs, and we all stand.

I wave. “Good evening.”

“Don’t move! Hands where we can see them!”

Two guards come across the yard at a run, beams up, then the light finds my face, and the lead guard pulls up so fast his boots slide on the gravel.

“Sir?” He aims the beam at my chest. He looks at me, then at the four naked males behind me, then at Brian, armed and dressed for war, and his throat bobs. “Sir, I…”

“Stand down, Colby.” I keep my voice easy. “We were just heading out for night exercises, one of which was to make it past the guards. You failed, Brian.”

He looks sheepish. “I guess so,” Brian sighs.

Atlas laughs. “A sneeze. Really?”

Saber gives Brian’s hair a ruffle.

“Stop that! Asshole,” Brian grunts.

I’m impressed by how normal everyone looks. Like we belong. Makes me proud of these males.

“You can carry on with your rounds. We’re heading out. We’ll stay close to the facility.” I try to sound as casual as possible. I’m pretty sure I pull it off.

“I can’t, sir.” He makes a face. “Anyone found going off-quarters after lockdown gets called in. Dr. Pryce’s standing order. No exceptions.” He winces. “Unless you have paperwork for me?” He lifts his brows, a hopeful look on his face.

I shake my head. “I don’t need any.”

“I’m afraid you do. No exceptions, and that would include you, even though you are the head of security…um…sir.”

Crap!

“You can log it in the morning.”

“He’ll check the night sheet first thing. We’ll get into huge trouble.” Colby’s partner is already reaching for the radio on his shoulder, apology all over his face. “I’m sorry, sir. I have to follow orders.”

The radio crackles. A tinny voice answers. The words “duty psychologist” and “site director” travel up the chain, and there is nothing I can do about any of it.

“You can wait in the gatehouse if you’d rather, sir,” Colby offers. “It’s more comfortable.”