“Well drinks and beers only,” Taxi said. “No top shelf. I know what Uncle Sam pays you all, and Jette can’t afford your expensive taste. Boots, I’m looking in your direction.”
“Life’s too short to drink shitty tequila, boss,” Boots replied.
“Yeah, well it’s gonna be shorter if I hear you’ve racked up an eight-hundred-dollar bar tab on Jette’s card.”
Rabbit threw his arm over my shoulders. “I’ll split the bill with you, sissy, don’t you worry about it.”
“No, I got it,” I countered. “I need motivation for next time.”
“You sure?”
“No.” I sighed. “But, yes.” I grinned up at him. “Besides, I’m expensing all this to the club, anyway.”
Rabbit raised an eyebrow. “Does Sundance know that?”
I chuckled. “No, but he will. And he’ll pay. You know he will.”
“Yeah, he will.” Rabbit laughed. “Jesus, you’re the only one with balls enough to do something so crazy.”
“Crazy? I prefer quirky,” I said.
“Hit the showers, grab some chow, and we’ll meet in training room A-65 at oh-nine-hundred,” Taxi called out to the group.
It was Tuesday, which meant the omelet bar would still be open in the mess hall if I hurried. With so few creature comforts of home available at Quantico, it was often the little things that would brighten my day. An extra five minutes in the shower, choosing the movie on movie night, but most of all, the omelet bar. A much welcomed, once a week break from the culinary monotony of the mess hall. The eggs were the of the same watery, tasteless variety I’d learned to choke down, but they were joined by shredded cheddar cheese, onions, peppers, and my absolute favorite, mushrooms. It may not have been Michelin star rated cuisine, but it was the best breakfast the FBI had to offer and the only thing I was looking forward to today.
After a lukewarm, therefore quick shower, I made my way to the mess hall. Upon entering, I grabbed a tray, poured myself a cup of black coffee (because they were out of cream, which should have been my first indication of what was to come) and headed to the omelet station.
It was closed.
“Noooo!” I cried, drawing the attention of one of the food servers.
“Corporal Blair has the flu,” he said. “We’re short staffed this morning, so no omelet bar.”
“There’s no contingency plan for this sort of thing?” I asked. “A back up omelet maker? A private omelet person? A private omeleteer?”
“Private back up omelet maker?” The man smirked. “Ah, no, ma’am. That’s not a thing.”
“Right,” I grumbled.
Great. The day started with a five-K run, and now I’d have to settle for undercooked eggs, overcooked bacon, and un-creamed coffee.
What next?
“And I should warn you… that’s decaf coffee in your cup. We ran out of regular a half hour ago and we won’t be getting another shipment until this afternoon.”
“Of course it is,” I muttered.
I needed to write in my dream journal and hoped to squeeze in ten minutes of meditation before this morning’s teaching session. Not to mention, I was searching for Tackle’s sister who had gone missing several years ago and I’d found a new lead, so I needed to touch base with him.
Needless to say, there was a lot on my plate. In the end, I settled on two bananas and a diet coke for breakfast before heading back to the barracks.
* * *
The teaching session ended early (thank the goddess), so I grabbed Tackle and we headed into a private conference room.
“You found her?” he asked.
“Sort of,” I said, opening my laptop. “I need to set your expectations, buddy. And I also don’t actually think you should look at what I’ve found—”
“Fuck, kiddie porn?” he rasped.
“Yes,” I confirmed. I met his eyes. “I’ve edited the videos so that all you see is her face. I need you to confirm that it’s Leighton, but no brother should see their sister like that, so…”
He studied me and his eyes got soft as he did. “Thanks, sweetheart.”
“Of course.”
Despite the hours of footage I had, it took him a matter of seconds to confirm it was in fact his sister, so I made notes before closing my computer and pushing it away.
His face was in his hands, and he wasn’t making any noise, not a peep, but he hadn’t passed out, so I knew he was still breathing.
“You okay?” I asked.
He finally looked at me. “Do you think you can find her?”
“I’m gonna do everything I can.”
“If I get my hands on the bastards that did this to her—”
“When we find her, Leighton is going to need you more than ever. You can’t be there for her if you’re in prison. You understand?”
“You really think we’ll find her?”
“I really think we’ll find her.” I squeezed his arm. “It’s going to take some time, but we’ll find her.”
Tackle nodded. “Thank you. For all of this.”
“I meant it when I said I’d do everything within my power.”
“Most people talk a big game, but rarely show up when you need ’em the most, ya know?”
“Unfortunately, I’ve found that to be true as well.”
“So, what makes you so special?”
I could feel myself blushing. “Special?”
“Yeah. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but you’re not like most club women.”
“That’s because I’m not a club woman.”
“You with anyone?”
“I’m with you right now,” I said, not catching his meaning.
“No, sweetheart.” He smiled gently.
“Oh, you mean, like, romantically?”
He chuckled. “Yeah.”
I sighed. “It’s complicated.”
“You want somethin’ uncomplicated?”
“Tackle, I don’t think you want to mess with the Howlers.”
Tackle dropped his smile. “Your man rides with the Primal Howlers?”
“I don’t really think we can go so far as to call him my man.”
“Would he say otherwise?”
I bit my lip and shrugged, knowing full well Tackle could see through my lie.
“So, he’s a biker who’s claimed you, and he rides with the club out of Monument?”
I grimaced. “Is there another one?”
“No, there is not,” he confirmed, leaning back in his seat. “And I ain’t a poacher.”
“And I’m not a deer,” I said, sternly.
“No offense meant, ma’am,” he said, kicking his southern drawl up a notch, tipping an imaginary cowboy hat to me. “Should your situation with your Howler change, you let me know.”
“Okay, Tackle. I will,” I lied.
“Most importantly, thank you for finding Leighton.” He rapped his knuckles on the desk before standing. “I’ll find the proper way to thank you one day.”
“No problem.”
Then he was gone, and I dropped my head to the desk with a curse. Goddess on high, how the hell do I keep accumulating bikers?