Stars of Fortune(83)
“You need to teach Sasha, refine Riley—you’ve got moves of your own, but Annika’s faster, smoother.”
“Yeah? And what about you? Bran, Sawyer?”
“We’ll all work on it. And on hand-to-hand. Training,” he repeated. “We need to put a couple hours a day, at least, into it. Sasha can make a schedule.”
“I can?”
“You started it, Blondie. You were right, now you follow it through.”
Riley polished off her second slice. “You’ve got a lot to say tonight, McCleary.”
“Because I’ve got something to say.” Lightning flashed, and thunder boomed hard behind it, causing Apollo to belly under the table until his head lay on Riley’s feet. “I’ve fought with you twice, and what I’ve seen is a lot of skill, and no unity.”
“So we hone the skills, and unite,” Sawyer finished. “I’m behind that. On the united front, I think—”
“Sorry.” Riley pushed up. “I’m going to have to eat and run.”
“Run?” Sawyer looked toward the window as the rain started in a gush. “Where?”
“To my room to start. It’s nearly sundown, and since I’d as soon not strip down here in the kitchen, I’m going up.”
“You can come back,” Sasha told her. “You don’t have to stay closed in your room.”
“Yeah, I get it, appreciate it. I’m going to need to run. Storm or no storm, I’ll need to run off the initial energy. I’ll be back. If there’s any pizza left over, I’ve got dibs on it at sunrise.”
She grabbed a third slice and headed out with Apollo close to her side.
Bran looked after her, then back at Sawyer. “You were saying?”
“Ah . . . I lost track. I guess . . . unity. I’m all in on weapons training. Where’d you get the crossbow?”
“Doyle,” Sasha told him. “He has two.”
“Ever used one?”
Sawyer shook his head at Doyle. “But I’m all about it. After last night, I’m going to need more ammo. I expect Riley could use more. Looks like we need a supply list, and what we could call a supply officer. I’d nominate Riley there. She has the most contacts.”
“Supplies are more than weapons. It’s food,” Sasha pointed out. “Household supplies.”
“I could nominate myself. Or you. What about your kind of supplies?” Sawyer asked Bran.
“I’m taking care of it. There would be some things we can acquire as easily as household supplies, but some I’m sending for. We’ve picked up most of the duties around the house and grounds, but I suppose we could be more organized about it.”
“I don’t mind switching off dinner prep with Sawyer, but it’s nice to have a night off.”
“Pizza night.” Sawyer grinned. “Once a week.”
“Done.” Bran toasted the idea. “And as Sasha and Sawyer handle dinners otherwise, I propose they’re exempt from getting pizza. The rest of us can alternate that as well.”
“I like pizza.” Annika, after savoring the first, chose a second slice.
“I pity those who don’t. As for strategies . . .” Bran cocked an eye at Doyle.
“I figure the three of us can hammer some out.”
“Meaning the three of you. Men.”
Doyle shrugged at Sasha’s statement. “Ever fought a war, Blondie?”
“Not until now.”
“Ever play war?” Sawyer asked. “As a kid?”
“Well, no.” Since Annika didn’t appear to mind being dismissed, Sasha felt the burden of female pride rested fully on her shoulders. “I bet Riley did.”
“And I’d wager she’s been in more than a few skirmishes. We’ll see what she has to say about it.”
Now Doyle shrugged at Bran. “Fine.”
“But we have to search.” Annika looked from one to the next. “We can’t stop.”
“We won’t be stopping,” Bran assured her. “But it looks as if we’ll have more regimented days, at least for now.”
“I’ll make out my end of the supply list.” Sawyer rose. “But first I’m going to start a fire in the other room. The storm’s probably dropped the temps, and we’re going to have a couple of wet . . . canines.”
“I’ll help you.” Annika rose with him. “And I’ll do the dishes. It should be my turn.”
Happy to pass that duty off, Sasha sat back with her wine. “And what’s my assignment?”
“You’d be the best to keep track of needed household supplies. And I think Doyle will agree you can be trusted to write out tasks and schedules in a fair way. We never followed through there. And I’d say the training schedule should be yours, Doyle.”