Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57237 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57237 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
River cleared his throat. “Reese.” He nodded at the grill.
“Right.” Reese turned the steaks over. “Yeah, I think dinner’s ready.”
“Wonderful.” I was starving. I got up and grabbed one of the plates and pushed the salad to the side. Someone had cut up tomatoes and thick slices of cucumber. “Which one is medium-rare?”
“All of them.” Reese placed a steak on my plate, followed by a wrapped potato, then handed me a knife and fork. “But, so…is it possible we could maybe do more than just relax while we’re here?”
Christ. The twins were eager. Reese might be the talker, but I knew he spoke on River’s behalf too. They wanted the same things.
“I’m sure I can think of something.” I returned to my seat and scooted it closer to the cooler and placed my plate there. The food looked damn good.
“Sweet. It’s possible Danny told us about the time you sent his unit out on a foraging hike,” Reese mentioned.
“Uh-huh.” I peeled the foil off the potato, and then Danny was right there with a stick of butter and a knife. Oh, absolutely. I nodded, and he cut a quarter of the stick onto my potato. Perfect. “Cheers. Grab your food, kid.” I cut into my steak and glanced back at Reese. “You want a task like that?”
He shrugged. “Sounds like a good skill to have, doesn’t it? Being able to forage stuff in the woods…?”
I supposed. “It certainly couldn’t hurt, but I can’t envision a scenario where you’d have to forage for food in an American forest.” I loaded steak and buttery potato onto my fork and dug in.
River and Reese were born survivors. They’d grown up hunting and were naturally scrappy. Add boot camp, and it made sense that their mind-sets were centered around survival training in the wild.
My comment had made Reese think twice. He chewed on the inside of his cheek while he plated food for his brother and himself.
“You never work domestically, do you?”
I shook my head. “Very rarely. I’m not saying it will never happen for you in the future, but I don’t think you need any further training in it. You’ve been camping and hunting all your life, eh?”
He inclined his head.
“Then I’d rather you picked up another language or learned what plants you can eat in Cambodia or Colombia.” Man, this steak was perfect. The baked potato too. “Those are the places Hillcroft will send you to. The Middle East, South America, Africa, certain parts of Asia.” I waved my fork at Danny, just as he sat down to eat. “Every soldier insistent on becoming a PMC has to shake the military mind-set. There’s no structure to what we do. We have our own survival techniques, and most of them are about blending in.”
The SAS was the best branch in the world for that, because they created gray men. We were called operators, not soldiers. Regular armed forces built machines who walked and carried themselves a certain way. The SAS shaped men into background features. Sure, we’d gone through all the physical training too. We had to be strong, agile, fit—the whole nine yards. But most of it was mental.
Which gave me an idea. “I know what you can do—and we can incorporate a physical aspect.”
The twins perked up.
“I’ll give you twelve hours, starting right after dinner,” I said, retrieving my wallet from my back pocket. “Here’s a hundred bucks.” I handed two fifties to River. “A more likely scenario is…let’s say, an extraction. You’re tasked with bringing home a diplomat from Venezuela. You have to spend the night in the jungle, where you’re invisible, before you set your plan in motion.” I nodded to the lake and the forest. “I can’t give you a jungle, so an American forest will have to do. But when you set foot on this porch tomorrow at—” I checked my watch “—eight thirty, you gotta sell your personas to me. Become two men who blend in with the background, whom no one would suspect of smuggling a diplomat out of the country. We’re talking character history, dialects, names, personal information, your whole cover. Clothes, pocket litter, quirks, traits.”
River’s eyes flashed with determination. A challenge like this one was right up his alley. Reese tended to prefer the physical challenges, but he needed to learn this too.
“I’ll be asking questions,” I finished.
“What can we bring?” Reese asked. “Our sleeping bags?”
“I don’t know, can you?” I cocked my head at him. “Will that fit your cover story? Are you going to Venezuela as American hikers? I’m not saying that would be wrong—but you bring only what will go along with your character profiles.”
This would be a great test for the brothers, on more than one level. I hoped River would remember the SAS rule to keep shit simple. Don’t run if you can walk, rest when you can, eat when you can, take the easy route.