Operation Zulu Redemption: Hazardous Duty - Part 3 by Ronie Kendig Page B

trembled with rage. Slowly, gaze still on Cantor, he lowered himself to the seat again.
    “You’ve just told me that you are alone. That you have nobody you go to for counsel. That your relationship with a woman ended poorly, and that your anger is easily aroused. All points the counsel will use against you in determining whether your duties and your job should be returned to you.”
    Trace said nothing. Did nothing. He remained frozen, convinced one wrong breath would detonate the rage within him.
    “You’re heading into a maelstrom, Trace,” Cantor said, his voice more friendly, less accusatory.
    “That’s been my life the last five years.”
    “No,” Cantor said. “You’ve been at the eye of this storm for the last five years. You’re about to feel the full intensity.”
    “Good to know, sir.” Trace gritted his teeth, maintaining a civil tongue almost impossible.
    Cantor’s left eye squinted as he looked at him. “Trace, you should know something.”
    He waited.
    “I’m not your enemy.”
    “Forgive me, sir, but if this is friendly conversation—”
    “Consider it friendly fire, iron sharpening iron.”
    Trace lifted his chin. He reserved phrases like that for friends. “Why would I do that, sir?”
    “Because I’m the one who tapped you to assemble Zulu.”

Nuala
Lucketts, Virginia
5 June – 1140 Hours
    It hurt Nuala’s heart to see Boone in such misery. And it killed her to know that he was in such shape because the woman he loved—which wasn’t her—lay in a hospital mysteriously failing. Of course, that made her feel worse because she shouldn’t begrudge him. He had no idea how she felt. She’d never given him any indication that he held the moon and stars in her world. Even if she had, he would’ve rejected her. Nuala King wasn’t the type of girl guys fell in love with.
    Now, Annie. . .and Téya . . .and Keeley. . .yeah. Guys tripped over themselves trying to get a date with them. But Noodle? The nickname alone told her what they thought of her.
    But Boone. Like Rock of Gibraltar. Impenetrable. Solid. That he had enough muscle to make up two humans meant little to her.
    Oh, who was she kidding? He was as physically attractive as he was kind. As bulked up as he was compassionate. Which is why it hurt all the more to see him in pain like this.
    She poured a cup of coffee, added cream—oops. Not too much. Nuala carried it over to the workstations where Boone sat in a chair, staring at the computer. Which she knew from the blank look on his face either wasn’t on or he wasn’t paying attention. “Here,” she said softly as she set the mug before him.
    Boone glanced down at it but seemed as if he didn’t see it. Then shifted. “Did I ask for that?”
    Heat crept into her cheeks, but not enough—she hoped—to make the blush evident. “No, you looked like you needed it.”
    Boone’s gray eyes came to hers, a shade of disbelief coloring them. “Thanks, Noodle.”
    Would he call her anything else but that stupid name? Something with respect. Something with meaning. But she had no meaning to him, other than being a member of Zulu. And a top sniper.
    They had that in common. And she loved to talk shop with him. Really, she’d talk about anything with him.
Am I pathetic?
    “Wow, I sure would love someone to bring me coffee without having to ask,” Téya murmured loudly from the dais, where she sat studying the wall. “Must be nice, Boone.”
    Again, his mind seemed jogged back to the present. “Maybe you should try being nice to someone,” he said, almost not missing a beat. But then he glanced at Nuala and lifted the cup and nodded. “Thanks.”
    She smiled.
    “You think you’re nice to Nuala?”
    Oh no. This wouldn’t end well. Nuala knew where this was going. And suddenly knew what Téya was up to. She swept across the room and stood over her friend, glaring deliberately at her, warning her to stop.
    Téya, unrepentant as always, just shrugged. “I’m just saying—he