Okay, so they flirted, too. But who could blame her? His Scottish accent made everything he said sound sexy. She could admit to herself that she was drawn to him—in no small part because he had rescued her from Abdul Jawad Kazi’s men—but it was nothing serious. As long as they both worked for Cobra, it could never be serious. Not only were those the rules, but Elizabeth had learned the hard way what could happen when a woman slept with a coworker.
“Hey, Shields. They finally let you out for a breath of air?” Malik asked.
“Finally.” She motioned for the bartender. “A glass of merlot, please.”
She must have been tired because it took her a moment to realize that something was wrong. The men weren’t ribbing one another like they usually did, their expressions grave. “What is it? What happened?”
It was Malik who answered. “McManus got a call. His best buddy from SAS was murdered a couple nights ago, his throat slit.”
“Oh, God. How awful!”
“He looked pretty torn up, man.” Dylan asked for another beer.
Elizabeth searched the crowd for Quinn once more.
“He’s on his way to Glasgow,” Malik said. “He flew with Corbray to D.C. and is catching the red-eye to London.”
“Oh.” Elizabeth wished she’d known. She would have said something and offered to drive him to the airport. “He’ll want to be there for the funeral.”
“The guy had a wife and two little kids,” Thor said. “Imagine surviving a decade at war and then being murdered on the streets of your hometown.”
“Awful,” Elizabeth said again, at a loss for words.
She had watched on satellite and drone feeds as good men and women were cut down. She’d flown home with heroes, their coffins draped with American flags, and had witnessed the heartbreak and grief of their families. She’d done her best to offer comfort, knowing that nothing she said would make a difference.
That was war.
But losing your husband to a robbery after he’d made it through years of combat… That was a different kind of tragedy.
She took her glass of wine from the bartender. “Do they know who did it?”
Malik shook his head. “Nah, I don’t think so. McManus said something about them not releasing the body yet because they’re still investigating.”
That added another layer of pain for the man’s family. They’d lost him, but they couldn’t yet mourn him or lay him to rest.
Lev Segal, who had joined Cobra after a career with Israel’s Sayeret Matkal, came up behind them, taking a seat next to Malik. “You all hear about McManus?”
Heads nodded.
Lev ordered a Fat Tire. “I hope they find the bastard who did it.”
“They should string him up by his nuts.” Dylan took a sip. “That’s what I would do if anyone murdered one of you. Kill one of my brothers—or sisters—and I’ll make a necklace out of your teeth.”
“Hell, yeah.”
“Damn straight.”
“What a sweet thing to say.” Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile.
She appreciated Dylan including her. For most of her career, she’d felt left out, a woman in a world of men—special operators, military brass, and politicians. No, she hadn’t gone into combat like they had. Her life had rarely been at risk. But her work had been essential for the success of their missions. She’d done the research and analysis that resulted in US forces being sent into action—and then watched them carry out their orders via satellite feed, barely able to breathe at times.
The guys at Cobra were different, perhaps because it was a private company. There were no alphabet soup agencies or generals vying for control and glory, no politicians looking for photo ops, no one fighting over budgets. They were a team.
Then Elizabeth remembered. “Anyone want some good news?”
No one looked particularly excited by this.
“Of course,” Thor said at last.