It had been a week since the mission in Colombia. We’d gotten home, reported back that our contract was complete, and then cashed out the Bitcoin. There was close to $2 million in cryptocurrency when all was said and done. After our personal cuts, that was enough to keep the Veterans for Mental Health fund running for two straight years. Not to mention the contract payout for blowing up Blanco’s compound. The mission had been a resounding success. Better than we could have hoped for.

  Yet I felt like it was a complete failure.

  Keeping information from Juliana had been easy to rationalize at the time. She was a total stranger. She’d never worked with us before. She didn’t care about the mission until learning Blanco was the target. If we told Juliana he was only a secondary objective, that we might not have gotten to kill him at all, she probably wouldn’t have accepted our offer. Without a hacker like her, we might have had to return the contract unfulfilled.

  If only we had known we could trust her.

  Fuck retrospection. I felt like a goddamn idiot for not trusting her from the start. And now we were paying the price.

  Donovan and Michael were eating breakfast in the kitchen. Michael nodded at me while munching on a piece of toast. Donovan said, “Hey,” but didn’t take his eyes off his laptop.

  They had been off since we got back too, though it was tough to tell with the way we all bottled things up. A little quieter than normal. Less interested in going out to bars or any other activities. We had all lost something. Something incredible. A woman who was a capable soldier, who was really fucking good at hacking, and who was romantically interested in all three of us. A woman who was perfect.

  And we lost her.

  With every passing day, that loss felt greater and greater. She was ignoring our calls and texts. Through our contacts we knew she had returned to Seattle and was working at the CSCG again. She was just in Milwaukee at a conference, and would be at another one in Phoenix this week. I was tempted to fly to Phoenix and show up at the convention, asking her a question during the Q&A part of her presentation the way Donovan had first met her. It would be a cute little callback. A way to maybe break the ice.

  I didn’t do that because I was terrified of rejection. All of us were. The fact that Juliana had ghosted us was as blunt as it got. It would only be embarrassing for everyone if we showed up and forced her to reject us in person.

  We had fucked up. We had lied to her. And now things couldn’t go back to the way they were.

  Deep down, I knew I had to accept that eventually. In the mean time I was too depressed to do anything.

  I poured myself a bowl of cereal and said, “I was thinking of maybe looking at the contract list today.”

  Donovan looked up from his laptop. The bags under his eyes were so dark he almost looked sick. “So soon after the last one?”

  “Normally we wait a month to recharge,” Michael chimed in.

  I shrugged and sat down with my cereal. “I’m antsy. Don’t want to sit around here doing nothing for another day.”

  “I know what you mean,” Donovan said. Michael still looked skeptical.

  “I’m not saying we accept a contract,” I added. “Just take a look at what’s out there. Maybe there’s something I can do on my own.”

  Michael carefully spread jam on another piece of toast, then took a bite. He chewed, swallowed, then said, “Okay. We will take a look tonight.”

  I dug into my cereal. It felt good to have something like that to look forward to. I still didn’t know what to do with the rest of my day. Sleeping late had killed a few hours. I didn’t feel like going to the shooting range again. Maybe I’d go see a movie. There was something depressing about a single guy going to a matinee by himself on a week day, but I didn’t much care what people thought of me.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket, and Michael’s made a noise on the counter. Donovan paused whatever he was doing and opened a new window. “Hey. I just got a weird email…”

  “I as well,” Michael said.

  I opened my phone and saw the same. It was from an email address that was vaguely familiar.

  It did not take long to find you, mercenaries. Killing Blanco and Suarez did little to cover your tracks. We are rebuilding. We are gathering our strength. We are coming for you.

  “What do you guys make of this?” Donovan asked.

  At first I thought it was a prank, but then I recognized the address. “This is Juan Suarez’s email account. Blanco’s lieutenant that we killed.”

  “It appears someone is stepping into his shoes,” Michael said.

  “But how the fuck did they find us?” I asked.

  Suddenly the Google Home Assistant in the kitchen chimed: “Locking all doors.”

  All throughout the house came the sound of deadbolts clicking into place. Upstairs, this floor, and downstairs. A surround-sound concert of security.

  “The fuck?” I said.

  “Hello Google,” Michael said. “Unlock all doors.”

  “Unable to recognize command,” it responded.

  Donovan frowned. “My laptop just lost its internet connection.”

  The fridge made a strange noise and then ice cubes came pouring out of the dispenser. They clattered to the ground and scraped across the floor in all directions, sending Michael jumping. The computer screen on the refrigerator door swirled with random pixels and then coalesced into an image of a fist with an extended middle finger.

  “Prepare to die,” the Google Home Assistant intoned in its robotic voice. “Prepare to die. Prepare to die. Prepare…”

  “We’re under attack,” Donovan said.

  “Guns,” I said. “We need guns.”

  I knocked over my cereal in my haste to flee the kitchen. I took the stairs two at a time to get down to the garage. The door was locked. Deadbolted by the smart lock. I ran back upstairs and rounded the corner to the next floor. I had a backup pistol in the gun safe next to my bed.

  I stopped on the third step. The doors up there were locked too. “Fuck!” I said in frustration.

  “Close the blinds,” Donovan commanded. “We’re vulnerable if anyone is watching.”

  While we closed those, the television turned on and opened the built-in YouTube app. The image of a dancing Rick Astley filled the screen with the familiar music.

  “We’re no strangers to love…”

  My phone started belting out music in my pocket. It was playing too. So was Michael’s phone, Donovan’s phone, and Donovan’s laptop in the kitchen. Panicked, I ran into the kitchen to grab a knife. I had to jump to avoid the stream of ice cubes still pouring out of the fridge, which was also now playing Rick Astley.

  “You know the rules, and so do I…”

  Donovan started laughing first. I rounded on him with my knife held forward and said, “The fuck is wrong with you?”

  Michael relaxed next. He pointed at the TV. “You know what this is.”

  I walked out there and it hit me. It was the same as that night in the Boston hotel room. When our test system had been hacked.

  “Juliana…” I said.

  Something wet hit me in the back of the head. Michael yelped too. I spun around and immediately found the source.

  There she was leaning over the railing of the stairs. Juliana aimed a neon orange water gun down at us. Another jet of water shot out and hit Donovan in the forehead.

  “Three headshots,” she said with a grin. “You know, for an elite mercenary team you guys sure are easy to kill.”

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “Put the knife down and I’ll tell you.”

  I realized I was hold it out threateningly. I lowered it to my side.

  Juliana rested the water gun against her shoulder and strode down the stairs. She looked better than I remembered. She was stunning in tight jeans and a blouse, every step accentuating the curve of her hip. It had been a long week while she’d been gone.

  I remained frozen in place, waiting to see what she would say. I was still terrified of rejection, and the evil thoughts swirled around in my head.

  She’s not coming back.

  She’s here to berate us.

  She wants her cut of the cryptocurrency.

  “Jules,” Donovan began.

  “No,” she cut him off with a hand, then stopped at the bottom of the stairs. A respectable distance away. “Let me talk.”

  “Okay.”

  She put the water gun down and rested it against the wall. She’d fixed her hair into a long braid which draped over one shoulder against her chest. The expression on her face was all business.

  I steeled myself for rejection.

  “I needed the past week to figure some things out,” she said carefully. “There was a lot to process between Blanco’s death, my own grief… And you three.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat as she regarded each of us with that hard gaze. Like she was only just now making up her mind.

  “And?” Donovan asked.

  “I have some demands.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “I’m a member of the team. No more contractor bullshit where you hide a bunch of info from me. I’m a full partner, which means I’m involved in choosing which contracts we take and which we reject.”

  “Uh, okay,” Donovan said.

  A grin spread across my face. She was coming back.

  “We need to improve the security of this place,” she continued. “I warned you about it when I first got here, and you laughed it off. Hopefully my demonstration makes it clear how vulnerable you are.”

  “We are open to suggestions,” Michael said.

  She shook her head. “I won’t be making suggestions. I want total control over all smart devices. I’ll be improving the security of some, but I’ll be ripping some others out. Starting with that idiotic smart fridge.” She ticked off another finger. “I want to manage the IT security for your charity. I poked around the VMH website and it’s got more holes than Juan Gonzalo Blanco’s rotting corpse. I’ll be assuming total control of their databases as well. They’re stored locally now, but I’m going to put them in the cloud. If veterans are getting treatment, I want them knowing their medical information is secure.”

  “Done,” Donovan said. He didn’t need to ask Michael or me. “What else?”

  “I think that’s it.” She crossed her arms. “Those are my demands if you want me on your team.”

  I couldn’t stop smiling. It didn’t feel real. Juliana was back. She was here.

  “Well,” I said with as much seriousness as I could muster. “What makes you think we want you on the team?”

  “Excuse me?” she said.

  “Yeah,” Donovan said, catching my eye. “That first mission in Colombia was just a trial run. We still want you to apply to be a full-time member of the team.”

  “Is your resume up to date?” Michael asked. “We will require references as well. At least four who can provide a recommendation.”

  “Not to mention the problems with your background check,” I said. “Your discharge from the Army is concerning. We’re going to want to look into that, kiddo.”

  “Go ahead and email all of that to us and we’ll get to it in a week or two,” Donovan said. “Send it from your own email address, though. Not from Juan Suarez’s.”

  We were all barely able to keep the joke going without laughing. Juliana squinted at us like she was not amused.

  “In that case, I change my mind,” she said. “Let me know if you guys ever want to hire the CSCG to do an evaluation.”

  She turned to leave.

  “Wait! We were joking!” the three of us sputtered at once. Donovan caught her by the arm and Michael blocked her way, while I stepped up behind her. Juliana let out a giggle.

  “You guys are too easy,” she said. “So do you accept my demands or not?”

  “It sort of depends on the other stuff,” Donovan said. “Professionally, we want you. But the personal stuff between us…”

  She stood up straight and turned so she could face all of us at once. “I’m going to need a little more time on that. I’m still hurt by the way you lied to me.”

  “Oh,” I said. It was like someone had stabbed me in the chest all over again.

  “A week ago, I didn’t think I’d forgive you,” she admitted. “But now that I’ve had some time to think about it, the sting is gone. The three of you are going to have to rebuild my trust. But I think we can all get back to the way things were.”

  Without thinking, I stepped forward and wrapped her in a big hug. She molded against my chest like she had never left. Two puzzle pieces fitting together after a short time away in the box. I held her until she tried to pull away, then squeezed her even tighter.

  She gave me a peck on the cheek, then hugged Michael next. Then Donovan. Everything sort of relaxed in those moments. Like the air pressure in the room had been too high but was now back to normal.

  “I’m curious as to how this kind of… relationship will work,” she said. “Are you sure the three of you won’t mind sharing me?”

  The three of us answered at the same time.

  “I’m sure.

  “Positive.”

  “Sharing makes it fun.”

  “And what happens if we want to escalate our relationship?” she asked. “Do we move to Utah and try to get a group marriage?”

  “I think they only allow men to have multiple wives, not the other way around,” I said.

  “Plus I think they stopped doing that,” Donovan said. “But the truth is we don’t know what will happen. That’s part of the fun.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “Want to find out with us?”

  I took her other hand in mine, and then Michael wrapped both sets of hands in his massive palms. The three of us smiled together.

  “I do,” Juliana said. “Just don’t expect me to pop out a bunch of kids.”

  Epilogue

  Juliana

  Three Years Later

  I was on the roof of a building in Karachi waiting for terrorists to storm into a bank across the street, yet I was stuck on the phone with the babysitter.

  “Daniella, I hear what you’re saying,” I said into the phone. “But I wrote down all the instructions on the fridge. Cali gets cranky if you don’t feed her lunch right at 11:45. Noon is too late.”

  “I understand Mrs. Ellersby, but Cali is especially fussy today. Even before 11:45.”

  “Did you turn on cartoons at 9:30?” I asked. The pause on the other end told me the answer.

  Over on the edge of the building Michael put down his sniper rifle long enough to shake his head. No matter how many times we told Daniella not to call us while we were gone, she still panicked over every little thing. We needed to get a better babysitter.

  “Here’s the thing,” Daniella said. “She ate all of her lunch and now she’s acting strange.”

  “Strange how?”

  “She’s watching TV, like the schedule said, but now she’s making weird noises…”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. “She’s humming while watching cartoons.”

  “I’ve never seen her do that before! Are you sure I shouldn’t take her to the Urgent Care…”

  “Daniella, I have to go. Please don’t call me unless the apartment is on fire. Or if Cali is on fire. Basically, fire is the threshold for calling me. You’re doing great, honey.”

  I hung up and slumped against the wall at the edge of the roof. Michael chuckled while aiming his sniper rifle. “We should have replaced her after the Hong Kong job.”

  “I thought she would get better. And we can’t fire her. She lives in the condo next door. It would be awkward.”

  “I will do it,” Michael said.

  “You have a cold heart.”

  “Only when needed.”

  Despite my protests about not wanting to pop out a bunch of kids, the four of us realized we wanted children about a year after I rejoined the team. We got back from a particularly dangerous mission in Libya and it was like all of our biological clocks turned on at the same time. Ours was a dangerous business. We wanted to leave something behind in the world beyond a charity and a slew of dead bad guys.

  We found Cali in an orphanage in Costa Rica. We were only passing through while gathering intel for another mission, but the orphanage children were in the market square asking for donations. Cali was in the orphanage mother’s arms, sucking on a bottle. The four of us saw her, looked at one another, and the decision was made. We never even had to discuss it.

  Cali was two years old now. The most adorable, loving girl we ever could have hoped for. That mission through Costa Rica had been a failure, but maybe things happened for a reason since it gave us Cali. And the best part was the four of us got to raise her together. We were at home three quarters of the time, so the girl got tons of love from me and her dads.

  But the one week a month where we were out on a mission…

  “Cali is fine,” Michael said, still staring down the scope of his rifle. The bank across the street was one of the nicest in Karachi, six floors with lots of glass windows. They were as dark as the night sky right now, all except the one where the bank manager was currently working. “And assuming the attack happens tonight, we will be back home to see her tomorrow night.”

  “That’s assuming a lot,” I said. We’d been watching the bank for the past three nights waiting for the attack. Basically, the bank refused to hold accounts for insurgents who ventured across the border into Afghanistan, and the Taliban was not happy about it. They had already made threats against the bank manager, who hired us to intercept them. Our intel said they were making a move this week. But as we went back to our hotel each morning I was beginning to doubt our intel. Tonight, after sitting here for three hours, I felt as fussy as Cali before her afternoon snack.

  I pulled out my walkie-talkie. “Anything from you guys?”

  “Nothing on the south side of the building,” Donovan responded.

  “It’s quieter than a nun’s cooch down here,” Gregor said. He was in the same building as ours, but on the ground floor. His role was more hands-on than ours.

 

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