not something he should stake his life on or anything.”
“Have to say, I think the poor guy actually believes it. Like he needed something good to come out of his trauma.”
“Sounds like he still has a lot of healing to do,” he said in his counselor’s tone. “And your team from the Beacon Group? What are they like?”
She paused. “Not sure. I’m here with TK. She’s former Marine, was an MP—but not an investigator. Most of her file has been redacted. Classified. Way she handles herself, I think she spent some time outside the wire, as Andre would say.”
“Not a Hobbit, then.”
“Fobbit,” she corrected, knowing he’d fumbled the military slang on purpose to make her smile. Fobbits were military personnel who never left the safety of their base to go past the razor wire perimeter. “No. She’s seen real action. Do you know what Cultural Affairs does? Or what a FET is?”
“Cultural Affairs works with human intelligence, not spies per se, so much as working with the actual native civilians living in war zones. Soothes things over with local leaders, tries to leave places better than before we arrived.”
“Building schools, winning hearts?”
“Right. And FETs are Female Engagement Teams. They embedded women with the guys on the front lines, usually Special Ops, raiding suspected insurgent strongholds.”
“Makes sense. Afghani women would talk to another woman before a man.”
“Not just that—the women could search women and their quarters without offending the males in the family. And often the tribal leaders had more respect for our warrior women than for the guys. So the women in the FETs could gain valuable intel and de-escalate situations the guys couldn’t. But sometimes they’d end up in the thick of things.”
“So she probably did see action.”
“I’m sure she did. FETs worked alongside SEALs, Force Recon, Marine Special Ops, and occasionally were even loaned out to the Rangers—until the Army set up their own female teams. They’d go on missions with their assigned units, in pairs or alone, the only women on a team of men who lived and trained together, moving fast, carrying their gear, ready for action—but without the extensive training the male operators have.”
“Sounds pretty heavy-duty.” And risky—thrown into that kind of volatile environment with little to no training. Probably a good thing the military was revamping its stance on women.
“It was. Think TK might have a problem now that she’s back in civilian life? I imagine since the women weren’t given the full combat training their male counterparts received, it would be especially difficult for someone like her to make the transition.” He sounded guarded. Worried about her not having backup.
“It’s a case from thirty years ago,” she reminded him. “We’re just here to sort through whatever paperwork that’s left and ask a few old-timers questions about anything they can remember.”
“Still. I wish you were there with Taylor or Walden.” Her old team.
“Me, too. TK’s okay—she’s just so damn young. Out at the bar now while I’m soaking my achy old bones in a hot tub. How sad is that?”
“You’re in the tub? Now?” A thrill of anticipation colored his voice. “Because Megan’s in her room and I’m all alone in ours.”
“Hmm...What are you wearing?” she asked in a sultry tone.
Before he could reply, movement at the doorway caught her eye. Something dark against the white tile floor. “Nick,” she screeched, sitting up, splashing water and not caring.
“What? What is it?”
“A scorpion. There’s a damn scorpion. Coming right at me.” Her gun—where was her gun?—out of reach on the nightstand, damn it.
His laughter didn’t help. “Don’t shoot it,” he said, reading her mind. “It’s not going to crawl into the tub with you.”
She kept her gaze focused on the ugly creature with its menacing barbed tail. “I don’t care. How the hell am I
“Have to say, I think the poor guy actually believes it. Like he needed something good to come out of his trauma.”
“Sounds like he still has a lot of healing to do,” he said in his counselor’s tone. “And your team from the Beacon Group? What are they like?”
She paused. “Not sure. I’m here with TK. She’s former Marine, was an MP—but not an investigator. Most of her file has been redacted. Classified. Way she handles herself, I think she spent some time outside the wire, as Andre would say.”
“Not a Hobbit, then.”
“Fobbit,” she corrected, knowing he’d fumbled the military slang on purpose to make her smile. Fobbits were military personnel who never left the safety of their base to go past the razor wire perimeter. “No. She’s seen real action. Do you know what Cultural Affairs does? Or what a FET is?”
“Cultural Affairs works with human intelligence, not spies per se, so much as working with the actual native civilians living in war zones. Soothes things over with local leaders, tries to leave places better than before we arrived.”
“Building schools, winning hearts?”
“Right. And FETs are Female Engagement Teams. They embedded women with the guys on the front lines, usually Special Ops, raiding suspected insurgent strongholds.”
“Makes sense. Afghani women would talk to another woman before a man.”
“Not just that—the women could search women and their quarters without offending the males in the family. And often the tribal leaders had more respect for our warrior women than for the guys. So the women in the FETs could gain valuable intel and de-escalate situations the guys couldn’t. But sometimes they’d end up in the thick of things.”
“So she probably did see action.”
“I’m sure she did. FETs worked alongside SEALs, Force Recon, Marine Special Ops, and occasionally were even loaned out to the Rangers—until the Army set up their own female teams. They’d go on missions with their assigned units, in pairs or alone, the only women on a team of men who lived and trained together, moving fast, carrying their gear, ready for action—but without the extensive training the male operators have.”
“Sounds pretty heavy-duty.” And risky—thrown into that kind of volatile environment with little to no training. Probably a good thing the military was revamping its stance on women.
“It was. Think TK might have a problem now that she’s back in civilian life? I imagine since the women weren’t given the full combat training their male counterparts received, it would be especially difficult for someone like her to make the transition.” He sounded guarded. Worried about her not having backup.
“It’s a case from thirty years ago,” she reminded him. “We’re just here to sort through whatever paperwork that’s left and ask a few old-timers questions about anything they can remember.”
“Still. I wish you were there with Taylor or Walden.” Her old team.
“Me, too. TK’s okay—she’s just so damn young. Out at the bar now while I’m soaking my achy old bones in a hot tub. How sad is that?”
“You’re in the tub? Now?” A thrill of anticipation colored his voice. “Because Megan’s in her room and I’m all alone in ours.”
“Hmm...What are you wearing?” she asked in a sultry tone.
Before he could reply, movement at the doorway caught her eye. Something dark against the white tile floor. “Nick,” she screeched, sitting up, splashing water and not caring.
“What? What is it?”
“A scorpion. There’s a damn scorpion. Coming right at me.” Her gun—where was her gun?—out of reach on the nightstand, damn it.
His laughter didn’t help. “Don’t shoot it,” he said, reading her mind. “It’s not going to crawl into the tub with you.”
She kept her gaze focused on the ugly creature with its menacing barbed tail. “I don’t care. How the hell am I
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