As one, the rest of the men stood and saluted.
Gabe looked at Quinn in surprise, but he was also standing.
“Sir,” Ian said without the slightest hint of mockery. And was that…respect…in his dark eyes? “We’re glad to have you back.”
Humbled, flattered, Gabe pushed to his feet and returned their salute. “It’s good to be back. At ease, gentlemen.” When they didn’t lower their hands or sit down, he smiled. “Relax, guys. Hit up the bar in the back. You deserve it. You did good. We did good.”
“No, Sir,” Marcus said.
“Our mission’s not over,” Ian said. “With your permission, we’d like to finish it.”
The warehouse, Gabe realized. After everything, they still wanted to get rid of that damn warehouse. Well, why the hell not? “You up for it?”
“Yes, Sir,” they said in resounding unison.
He studied them. Bruised, battered, but not beaten. Never beaten. Pride swelled in his chest. All this time he had wished for his former SEAL teammates when he had a group of men who were just as good, just as loyal, and just as honorable at his command. Maybe even more so.
“All right.” Grabbing his cane, he gimped toward the plane’s door. “Then let’s give the EPC a giant FU and blow that puppy from the map, gentlemen.”
Chapter Twenty-three
A MONTH LATER
WASHINGTON, D.C.
It should be raining. Hell, it should be storming with how wretched Gabe felt, but Mother Nature had blessed the Capital with a gorgeous start to summer. The nice weather served as a stark contrast to his mood and, honestly, kinda pissed him off.
Yet here he stood, barefoot and shirtless on his balcony, watching the sun drop below the city’s horizon, exactly as he had every other night for the past month. Reds, golds, and purples splashed across a sky so pale blue it was almost white—so hopeful, bright, and a little wild. Like one of Audrey’s paintings.
Like Audrey herself.
Gabe squeezed the balcony’s railing so hard his knuckles cracked. Called himself a thousand kinds of fool. He had to stop thinking about her. Had to stop standing out here every night, watching the sunset and pining for what could never be. Had to put her out of his mind and focus on what was important: the team and their training.
A knock sounded at his front door and Gabe forced himself to let go of the railing and go answer it. He made it halfway across the living room before a key rattled in the lock and Quinn stepped inside.
“Hey,” Quinn said and held up a grocery bag. “Brought some Natty Boh.”
Gabe shook his head and about-faced, going back to the window as Quinn headed toward the kitchen with the beer. For a second there as the doorknob turned, he had this stupid notion that Audrey had come to Washington and…
Yeah. Completely stupid. He’d known Quinn was coming over, so why was he so damn disappointed to see him?
“I don’t feel like drinking,” Gabe said.
At the kitchen counter, Quinn paused halfway through opening a second bottle. “You sick?”
“No, I’m not sick.”
“All right.” He popped the cap and tossed it and the bottle opener in the sink, then brought the two beers back to the living room. He held one out. “You look like you could use one. Have you slept since we left Colombia?”
“Of course I have.” Gabe snatched the bottle since Quinn was just stubborn enough to stand there, holding it out to him forever.
“Uh huh,” Quinn said and wandered around the room. “This place smells like a gym locker.”
“Haven’t done laundry.”
“Or dishes. Or shaved. Or showered.” He stopped beside the desk, littered with pizza boxes and empty bottles of beer and water.
Gabe thought he should be embarrassed by the state of his apartment, but couldn’t find the motivation for even that. Maybe he was sick after all. He never used to have a problem motivating himself. “I’ve been busy.”
“Doing what, internet stalking?” Quinn said and spun the computer monitor around.
Shit, he’d left Audrey’s website up on the screen.
“I’m checking up on a client.” He crossed to the desk in three strides and swatted Quinn’s hand away from the monitor. When he tried to close out of the site, he found he couldn’t do it. Again. Audrey’s face smiled out at him from the page and he just…couldn’t. He switched off the monitor instead. “That’s all.”
“You miss her,” Quinn said. “You should go see her, talk to her. Who knows? Maybe she’ll even forgive you for being an ass.”
“Wait.” A sneaking suspicion crept through the fog of depression hanging over Gabe’s mind and he narrowed his eyes on his best friend. “Is this an intervention?”