The Edge of Courage (Red Team) by Elaine Levine Page B

introductions.
    “Ivy, this is Rocco Silas. Rocco, Ivy Banks.” Rocco looked at the woman sitting with them. She had dark hair, black maybe, and blue eyes. She was petite in stature and very pretty. He could see why Kit had fallen for her. It felt odd sitting here with the woman who’d made his friend’s life a living hell. Did Kit know she was back in town?
    Rocco had to pull himself out of his thoughts as Mandy introduced him to the men. “You remember Jerry. This is Bobby Gallahan. Bobby, this is Rocco. He’s a friend of Kit’s.”
    Rocco met Bobby’s friendly gaze, feeling no warmth for the bastard who had been Mandy’s lover. The man leaned across her to offer a handshake. Jesus. Not that. Not here. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t risk what might happen. He reached for the menu that was lying in the middle of the table instead, ignoring Bobby. The silence that met his rudeness was deafening. He ignored it, too.
    A waitress came by to take their order. Rocco asked for an iced tea while Mandy ordered a micro-brew from a local brewery.
    “So, Rocco—Jerry says you’re recently back from the war. Thank you for your service,” Bobby said.
    Anger flashed inside Rocco. He held still, trying to let the feeling wash through him, but all it did was sit and fester. This stranger thanked him for his service—service that cost him his wife and son and unborn child. Thanked him for becoming more Afghan than American. Thanked him for losing his mind.
    He ground his teeth to keep from saying something that would upset Mandy. She must have felt his tension. She put a hand on his thigh. He forced himself to nod at the man, trying to take the comment in the spirit it was intended. He pulled a long breath to calm himself. He knew he shouldn’t have come here tonight.
    “Bobby turned pro on the rodeo circuit this year,” Mandy said, providing Rocco a welcome distraction.
    Rocco looked at Bobby. “Congrats. What’s your event?”
    “Steer wrestling.”
    “He rodeoed all through high school and college,” Mandy told him. “He was always hitting up local businesses for sponsorship money before he started earning some nice prizes.”
    “They’d see him coming and just take out their wallets,” Jerry added with a chuckle. “Then he struck gold. Found a first-class operation to sponsor him—a bank out of Jackson Hole. Bought him his pretty new rig.”
    “Glad to see it’s worked out for you.” Rocco offered, though he couldn’t help but think that while this guy was wrestling steers and dreaming of the PRCA tour, Rocco was navigating the deadly Nangarhar and Kunar provinces in Afghanistan to infiltrate the Taliban’s upper echelon. Christ, how the hell was he going to make a life that held any meaning for him after having spent so many years on a razor’s edge?
    “How’s the construction progressing, Mandy?” Ivy asked, moving the subject away from Bobby.
    “It’s progressing, but slowly. You know the foundation had to be repoured for part of the stable. Nothing bad has happened since then. Maybe whoever was messing with us has moved on to other mischief. The pole barn is nearly finished. The fencing crews are making good progress in the lower pastures. Rocco has removed most of the barbed wire from the old pastures up by the house.
    “Fingers crossed things continue smoothly now. I’m going to bring the horses over in a few weeks, once the upper corrals are finished. After I’ve worked with them a bit, maybe Casey could come over and help me put the horses through their paces. I train them with sacks of hay to get them used to unstable riders, but it would be good to get an actual child in the saddle to play that role.”
    “She would love it!” Ivy accepted for her daughter.
    The waitress returned with their drinks and took their meal orders. The DJ played a popular slow song that had couples leaving their tables and taking to the floor.
    The plaintive chords of the music echoed inside Rocco. He