EIGHT #2
On that list was a person connected to Echo’s weapons. And where Echo was concerned, every operator in Blackout had a score to settle.
“Let’s get to work,” Cannon said.
Chairs scraped against the floor as the team rose.
The hunt had finally started.
* * * * *
Stina was bored out of her ever-loving mind.
Her first day at Sierra had been chaos involving war rooms and black hoods. Not to mention learning that she was surrounded by enough heavily armed men to invade a small country.
She’d gotten a chance to reconnect with her best friend, only to learn that Jolie had grown and changed in the two months they’d been apart. Her friend was busy for most of the day, which left Stina to roam the base on her own.
She’d explored every hallway she was permitted to enter, gotten lost twice and somehow ended up in a supply room of cages full of weapons and ammunition she definitely wasn’t supposed to be near.
Yesterday she’d watched Jolie and Archer make heart eyes at each other.
She’d annoyed Rome simply by walking into breakfast.
And she discovered there was a limit on how many hours a person could spend thinking about a certain dark-haired, steel-gray-eyed special operator before they started questioning their life choices.
Today she’d reached a new stage of captivity.
There was nothing left to do.
Jolie was tucked up in a corner of the common room with her laptop, and Rome was either off on some mission or actively avoiding her. The last thought irritated her more than she cared to admit.
She sprawled across one of the couches with her feet hanging over the armrest, staring at the ceiling.
There was nothing to see there either. Boring gray. The concrete tunnels didn’t provide any stunning views and they sure as hell weren’t designed for entertainment.
They were designed for secrecy. Security.
Hiding.
Apparently, they were also designed to slowly drive her insane.
The sound of Jolie’s fingers tapping at the keyboard paused, and Stina turned her head to see if her friend was available.
“Thank god you’re finished—I was thinking about licking an electrical outlet for a change of pace.”
Jolie burst out laughing, but it ended with a lilt of remorse. “I’m sorry—I’m still working on this research paper for my cognitive psychology course.”
Stina controlled her sigh. She really was happy for her friend. She also really needed something to do—some direction while her life was on indefinite pause.
“What will my other friends think? What about my parents? I talk to them on my day off. And they’re supposed to come for a visit soon.”
Jolie touched her arm. “Have you talked to Rome about getting in contact with them to let them know you’re okay?”
She shook her head. “I will. And my job…it isn’t a great job, but I need it. If I stop showing up, I’ll be fired. My rent’s already past due, and all my stuff will be tossed in a dumpster.”
“Maybe someone can be sent in to move your things to storage. I don’t know how everything works. I only know it’s worked out for me.”
They fell into silence for a long moment. Then Stina looked at her. “What do people do around here for fun?”
Jolie gave her a sideways glance.
Stina rolled her eyes. “Besides that.”
Jolie laughed again. “That’s not all we do.”
“Mmhmm. If I had a boyfriend who was nice and hot, it’s all I’d be doing too.”
“Really, we don’t only do that.”
“Your face says otherwise.”
Jolie’s smile suggested she wasn’t totally wrong. But she twisted to face Stina. “I’ll help you think of something to do. A hobby.”
“I’m not allowed to do any of my hobbies right now. I can’t get on social media. No gaming platforms. No going out for an iced latte and walking around Chicago until my shift starts. I only have restrictions here.”
“There’s a gym,” Jolie offered.
She shook her head. “I’m not in the mood to work out.” That wasn’t completely true. If Rome asked her to burn off some calories in his bed, she’d gladly jump at the offer, but she couldn’t exactly tell Jolie that she was still a little sore in spots she never knew she had.
“Fine. No gym.”
Stina rolled to a sitting position but slouched on the couch. “Honestly, this place feels like 2020.”
She barked out a laugh. “You think it’s 2020 down here? It’s 1960 to 1980 up there.” She flicked her eyes to the ceiling.
Stina followed her gaze, her brows pinching. “Up where? On the concrete ceiling?”
Jolie’s smile faded as she leaned forward slightly and lowered her voice. “In the ski resort.”
“The what?”
“The resort. Sierra base is under a closed ski resort. But it’s classified. You can’t say anything. We have to stay quiet to keep the team—and ourselves—safe.”
“I can’t tell anybody because I’m not allowed to talk to anybody.”
She couldn’t do any of the things she usually did for fun…or the one thing that would really distract her.
“This feels a little like prison.”
Jolie issued another laugh. “It might not come with the freedoms we’re used to, but isn’t it nice knowing you’re not going to get shot?”
She fixed her stare on the ceiling again. “I wasn’t worried about it before the day Rome showed up.”
Jolie fell silent for a moment. “We’ve been friends for a long time. But you’ve never shared much about your personal goals.”
“Besides getting rent paid on time?”
She nodded. “What would you do if you weren’t working at the restaurant?”
The question caught her off guard. Nobody ever asked her that.
Stina tucked her legs under her and contemplated her friend’s question. She’d spent her adult life questioning every choice she made and trying to stay afloat.
But since she started working at Antonio’s, there was a spark floating around her mind.
Jolie watched her expectantly.
After thinking for a moment, she said, “There is one thing I’ve been thinking about.”
She gave Stina an encouraging nod.
“I’d like to be in the kitchen instead of on the floor serving food.”
Jolie blinked. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
“You never told me that.”
She lifted a shoulder and let it drop.
When her friend didn’t speak, she rushed on. “You know, their bread could be better.”
Stina bobbed her head. “And their clam sauce.”
Their gazes met, and Stina wrinkled her nose.
At the same time, they said, “Bitter.”
They shared a smile that made her feel a bit shy. “It’s a silly idea.”
“Not silly at all. I think it’s a great idea. But…do you actually have any experience in the kitchen?”
“Some. My baba used to take me in her kitchen and let me cook with her. We baked bread and varenyky every Christmas.” Her lips curved at the sweet memory she had of her Ukrainian maternal grandmother. She saw Jolie’s questioning look and explained. “Same family as a pierogi.”
Jolie echoed the smile. “We have a kitchen here. It doesn’t have a lot of variety, but there are staples and a few items in the pantry that might surprise you.
You could spend some time there. The guys love when I cook, but since I started all these classes, I don’t have a lot of time.
And Younger just heats things up and throws it on a plate, so you can’t be any worse. ”
She had met the whole team, but she wasn’t sure she had all their names straight. “Is Younger the older dude? Looks scary?”
“They all look a little scary, don’t you think?”
Stina laughed. “That’s true. All right.” She pushed to her feet. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need a break from your contagious physiology class or whatever it is.”
“Cognitive psychology,” she corrected, flashing her a grin.
Before Stina walked out, Jolie already turned back to her screen and was engrossed in her learning.
The kitchen occupied a surprisingly large section of the underground facility. Industrial refrigerators lined one wall. Stainless steel counters stretched in an L shape and there was a pantry where she found enough shelf-stable food to survive an apocalypse.
Or at least a ghost ops team with bottomless stomachs and hollow legs.
She turned in a slow circle, trying to figure out where to start. Then she spotted a cabinet. In black marker, someone had written on the front. AMMO.
With a suspicious glance around, she quickly opened the door, saw boxes of bullets inside, and shut it again.
A breath whooshed out of her. Welp, she definitely wasn’t in her baba’s kitchen.
But the place was actually…impressive. A big industrial stove that rivaled the ones at Antonio’s sat in the center of a wall with a stainless-steel range hood over it.
She moved toward the pantry and located supplies. Flour, sugar, spices, canned goods and dry goods. The fridge held little fresh produce, which wasn’t ideal for what she had in mind, but the inventory wasn’t that bad either.
An idea began forming. She poked around the refrigerator, her brain reorganizing ingredients. For the first time since arriving at Sierra, Stina felt a spark of excitement.
Maybe she couldn’t leave or go online. Maybe she couldn’t return to her old life just yet.
But she could do something she enjoyed.
And judging by the ingredients she spread across the counter, Sierra team—Rome in particular, if he planned to hang on to those sculpted abs—was about to spend a lot more time in the gym.