Twitch, Emily, and the guys were draped on the overstuffed chintz living room furniture while Maggie whipped up Herc’s favorite: a ham and cheddar sandwich with a pineapple slice, Ruffles potato chips, and homemade iced shortbread. Herc told them the story of the exchange at the dock, the remote-controlled rifle, Billy, and the unknown man. Elbows on his knees, head in his hands, he finished.
“I didn’t mean to kill him. I just wanted to fire a warning shot. Make the guy think I had backup.”
Nathan walked in from Charlie’s office where they had put the case. Emily extended her hand to him. He took it with a soft kiss to her palm and perched on the arm of her chair. “Trust me, Hercules, one of you wasn’t walking away from that meet. You did what you had to do.”
“Did you open it?” This from Tox, who was eyeing the kitchen door along with Daisy, both waiting for the treats they smelled to emerge.
“He did. The guy. The case, I mean. He didn’t open the cartridge inside. It looks like a spark plug with a latch near the top.”
Ren looked at Twitch. “Volatile chemical transport cartridge.”
“Sounds like it,” Nathan agreed.
Twitch popped up from behind her laptop. “We got a confirm. It’s Mendaz.”
Emily looked up. “He’s dead?”
Nathan kissed her forehead. “Dead and gone. Literally. My people will handle the cleanup.” He turned to Herc. “There will be no evidence either you or Rigo Mendaz were at the dock tonight.”
“What about Billy?”
“It’s going to look like exactly what it was. Billy got shot doing something shady after hours at the warehouse. Suspect at large.”
Hercules nodded in grim acceptance.
“Hercules.” Emily’s soft voice had him looking up. “That man, Rigo Mendaz. He abducted me when I was a child. Don’t let his death weigh on your conscience.”
“It doesn’t.” Hercules stared down at his feet. “Not anymore.” He seemed to be speaking of more than just this incident.
Chat turned from where he was standing at the large circular bay window that framed the darkness and the roiling surf. “What number?”
Hercules looked into Chat’s eyes, and seeing a kindred spirit, said without inflection, “Fifty-one.”
There was a silent understanding among the group. Hercules had been a sniper and he’d gotten out at fifty kills, a boatload for any elite shooter. With one push of a button, he had crossed a moral and emotional line. Chat walked over, squatted next to Herc, and spoke softly. Chat nodded along. No one but Hercules could hear what Chat said, but Herc’s whole posture changed. Emily scrambled off Nathan’s lap and gave Chat a hug that took him by surprise, but he returned the gesture.
“You’re something special. You know that, right?”
Chat smiled sadly at Emily. “It’s a gift.” He then turned back to the window and the night, leaving Emily feeling slightly puzzled.
Tox returned from the kitchen with half a sandwich in his hand and the other half in his mouth.
“What’s your call sign?”
Herc turned a shade of cherry red that had the whole group waiting for his answer.
“Shorty.”
“Why Shorty?” Emily asked. Herc was neither tall nor short at just shy of six feet.
At that moment, Maggie came out of the kitchen with a tray of goodies.
“Okay, Shortbread, I’ve got some snacks.”
With that, Herc popped out of his chair, grabbed the plate of cookies off the tray, took four for himself, and sent the treats around the room. When Emily took a bite, she couldn’t contain her groan.
“Oh my God, Maggie.”
Herc shook his head. “That very sound got me my nickname. Maggie used to send them to me at the base.”