Kurt took one look at the airplane and walked away from it. “We can meet them there,” he told Elisa. “I’m not getting in that thing.”

Elisa rolled her eyes and sighed, the way a mother might with an exceptionally petulant child. “Kurt, people are staring. You can’t expect to play the role if you don’t understand the way these brave men live.” She shot her brittle smile at the assembled SEALs, who were indeed staring at him as though he’d just sprouted three heads.

“I challenge you to find the part of me that gives even half a shit right now, Elisa.” Kurt stopped in his tracks. “Because that plane? It’s held together with duct tape. Duct tape, Elisa! And it’s not even a passenger plane! You can’t tell me it’s safe to fly!”

Chief’s voice rumbled from behind him. “If it’s safe enough for us to fly on, what makes you any better than us?”

“Yeah, Hollywood?” Kurt would recognize Van Heel’s voice anywhere. “You think you’re so special you deserve to fly first-class everywhere?”

“I think not volunteering my body as Navy property does entitle me to a few choices, yes.” Kurt wasn’t about to take that kind of shit, not from Van Heel and not from anyone else. “And one of them is the choice to not get on a plane that’s already leaking bolts onto the tarmac!” He pointed to one bolt that shined in the dawn half-light.

“Aw, poor baby’s scared to fly!” One of the other SEALs pouted at him and made a faux-sympathetic face. “I’m so heartbroken, really I am. But hey, I’m sure Van Heel can hold your hand and make it all better.” He rubbed at his eyes, wiping away fake tears.

“Fuck you, Tinker.” Van Heel flipped that particular SEAL off. “Hollywood can hold his own damn hand. Or he can pay someone to do it, Jesus Christ.”

Two spots of color appeared in Elisa’s cheeks. “Get your ass on that plane, Kurt. You are making a scene.”

“I’d rather make a scene than die when the plane shakes itself apart over Kansas.” Kurt didn’t bother looking at Van Heel.

Elisa grabbed him by his ear, his actual ear, and dragged his head down to her mouth. “You will not embarrass the studio by denigrating the Navy’s equipment or Naval maintenance crews. I will tell the studio that you invalidated your contract and make damn sure you never work in Hollywood again. Am I clear?”

Kurt glowered at her. Someday he would be in a position to fire her, and to never have anyone like her in his orbit again. “Fine.” He gritted his teeth.

“Now get your ass on that plane or I’ll very politely ask Warrant Officer Boone to assign some men to put you there.” She released his ear and gave him a shove.

His cheeks burned with shame, but he mounted the steps and found a seat. It was a solo seat, so Elisa couldn’t sit with him. He couldn’t imagine this was going to be comfortable, especially with the wretched five-point harness, but he would do what he had to.

The rest of the crew filed in behind him. He ignored them. He could hear them snickering and whispering between them. He didn’t want to think about what they were saying, and thinking. It was fine. They were SEALs, none of them probably had phobias anyway.

The pilot hit every patch of turbulence on the way to Texas. Part of him believed someone had told him to do it just to spite him. He did everything he could to calm himself down. He tried to read a book on his e-reader, but every little bump just heightened his anxiety. He tried to listen to some fun dance music, but nothing could take away the absolute certainty he was going to die right here on this plane.

He had to bite his lip to keep from screaming when they went to land at the airport in Huntsville. The pilot brought the plane in for a hard landing, hard enough that even a few of the SEALs grunted when they hit. Kurt was convinced they’d crashed, but the plane kept moving. A few of the guys, including Van Heel, laughed at him and jeered as the plane taxied to a halt at the gate.

The SEALs got up and filed toward the door. Kurt let them pass. His shirt was drenched in sweat, and he didn’t want everyone to see it. Of course, Van Heel didn’t miss it. He zeroed in on it, like he’d been looking for it. “Looks like someone got a little sweaty, huh?” He smirked at Kurt. “At least we finally found something that gets you worked up.”

Kurt narrowed his eyes at Van Heel. Okay, they hadn’t been in love, and they hadn’t even pretended to be in love. They’d at least shared some intimacy. Why would Van Heel feel compelled to lash out at him like this? They hadn’t parted on bad terms, but it was the third dig the guy had taken at him today.

“I guess abject terror is something reasonable to get worked up about.” He curled his lip at Van Heel. Had he ever been attracted to this guy? Sure, he was hot, but he was a pig. He was a pig who didn’t bother to hide it. At least most of the guys who used Kurt didn’t feel compelled to antagonize him afterward. “The next time I find something to get worked up about, I’m sure I’ll give you a call, Van Heel.”

Van Heel staggered back, like he’d been slapped. “What the hell, man?”

“Oh, just fuck off. There’s a good SEAL.” Kurt hadn’t loosened his grip on the armrests yet. His knuckles hurt from holding on so tightly, but he still couldn’t let go. He kept his voice cool and apathetic. Van Heel had hurt him, and that was on Kurt. He didn’t need to let Van Heel know. Van Heel gaped, open mouthed, at him. Then he left the plane.

Kurt waited until everyone was off the plane before he got up and peeled himself off the seat. He still squirmed with humiliation at the whole plane ride and at Van Heel’s treatment. He could congratulate himself at snapping back at Van Heel, though. It wouldn’t change the way Van Heel saw him, but at least Van Heel would have to recognize that he couldn’t just go around treating people like crap.

Elisa went to check them into the hotel, with strict instructions for him to “behave yourself, idiot.” Kurt was left to follow the SEALs as they went, not to some kind of naval facility or training area, but to the state prison at Huntsville.

Why would they go to a prison? It didn’t make sense.

The journalist Mansur Mohammad met them at the prison. Now there was an alpha. Kurt had always been attracted to the handsome, fearless journalist, but he didn’t approach him. He was supposed to be focused on observing the SEALs, and this wasn’t the time to pick someone up.

Mohammad greeted the SEALs like he knew them. “I’ve been asking around,” he said as they stood in front of the prison. “The coroner’s office isn’t budging on their finding. They’re sticking to their story of suicide. There has been an internal review of how a prisoner managed to get a gun to kill himself with. But you know, Texas.”

Van Heel scowled at Mansur. “You’re not even from here. Maybe don’t go judging Texas.”

Mohammad rolled his eyes. “Oh, come off it, Van Heel. I get that you come from Texas, and you’re a little sensitive about it, but be real. It’s a murder and a cover up. I don’t have to have been born in America to recognize that.” He turned to Chief. “At any rate, we’re not going to get into the prison, for obvious reasons.”

Kurt didn’t care about whatever had brought the SEALs here. Murder and a cover up were exciting news indeed, but they weren’t anything he could affect one way or another. The absolute last thing he wanted to do was help the SEALs. Still, he stepped forward. “If you really want to get in and meet with some people, tell them we’re researching for a part.”

Sixteen pairs of eyes swiveled to look at him. Only one of those pairs seemed at all interested in what Kurt had to say, but he figured he might be reading into things a little bit. “You’re not here to advise,” DeWitt pointed out with a frown. “You have no idea what you’re even addressing.”

“No, he doesn’t.” Mohammad rolled his shoulders and scratched at his chin. “He might not know what this particular situation is about, but he does know a lot about being an actor and the kinds of access actors get. It’s not a bad idea.”

Kurt pretended to be as vacant as his persona dictated, but he met Mohammad’s eyes for just a second. It wouldn’t do for a top-notch journalist to figure too much out, but he didn’t mind giving a little hint.

Chief nodded slowly. “I guess I can see it. All right. Let’s regroup at the hotel, and see what we can come up with.”

They headed back to Kurt’s hotel, and Kurt wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about the change in plans. He’d thought the SEALs were supposed to be out training and living rough in the bushes somewhere, not bunking down in the hotel with him. Was he expected to shell out for their lodgings, now, too? He hadn’t agreed to that, and Elisa didn’t have the right to agree to those kinds of obligations on his behalf.

When they got back to the hotel, a quick check with Elisa proved that the Navy was paying for the SEALs’ accommodations. He felt a little better about that, although he still intended to double check. He made a mental note to sit down and review his day to day expenses and then turned his attention back to the SEALs and their plans.

Somehow, they’d decided to meet in the public room of his two-room suite. He hadn’t given them permission. He didn’t want that, and he was pretty sure he had the right to kick them right the hell out of his space, but he held his tongue. He might be able to learn something if he stuck around, and if he’d made the suggestion he should stick around to see how things played out.

“So.” DeWitt leaned against the door to Kurt’s bedroom and frowned over at Elisa. “How exactly is this supposed to work, anyway? Do we just walk up to the gate house and tell them we’re in a movie? Because that doesn’t seem like the brightest thing.”

Elisa frowned in confusion. No one had filled her in on any of this, but she recovered quickly. She usually did. Kurt might hate her, but he’d always admit she was pretty quick on the uptake. “Well, no, but Kurt could. He’s well known enough that he could get away with it, and he’s charismatic enough that he could convince them even though they wouldn’t really want it. He could probably convince them to let in a handful of ‘newer actors,’ too.” She used her hands to make air quotes. “What’s really going on here? I’m not sure I really get this. Kurt isn’t supposed to be participating in live fire exercises.”

“Of course not.” Chief gave her a tight smile. “But part of the exercises we’re supposed to be participating in right now is getting some information from someone inside Huntsville, and Mr. Mohammad had found a good solution to get us in there.”

Mohammad frowned at Chief. “It was Kurt, actually. But yes, that’s the best way to get them in.”

“Okay.” Elisa frowned, blinking. She didn’t like changes to her careful plans, Kurt knew. “Are we getting paid for this?”

Kurt looked up at the ceiling. “It’s part of their training, so the studio is actually paying the Navy. It’s not coming out of your pocket, so don’t you worry about it at all. I’ll go in with a few newer members of the profession. Hopper, I think, would be good. He’s got Hollywood looks. Kelly and Floyd, too.”

Chief sneered at him. “You don’t know any of these guys. You have no idea what their skills are. You don’t know if they can investigate their way out of a paper bag, but you think you get to pick the team?”

“Look. You’re all SEALs. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past week or so, it’s that the SEALs don’t have time for mental lightweights, all right? Any of you would be fine for the job. Do me the credit of assuming I know something about a job I’ve been doing since I was twelve. These three guys are the best looking among you. The warden or whoever isn’t going to believe they gave an acting contract to anyone who isn’t conventionally pretty. Do you trust your men to do the job or not?”

Chief’s head snapped back. Kurt thought he saw one or two grins, specifically from younger guys like Miazga and Lupo, but he ignored them in favor of locking eyes with Chief. Something was going on here, something a lot deeper than training exercises. Kurt didn’t give a crap about being excluded from the secrets. He wasn’t even American. But he would be damned if he was going to play stupid about this, for crying out loud.

Chief took a deep breath. “Okay. Yeah, yeah, okay. You’re probably right. They’ll be your team. Kelly, Floyd, Hopper, you’re up. You’re going to have to go in unarmed, because they will check before they let you into the prison.”

“Of course, sir.” Kelly spoke for all of them and the others seemed to be okay with that. He was a little bit older than the rest of them. “What’s the cover story? Generic prison movie?”

Kurt shook his head. “The working title of the film will be Folsom Prison Blues, just like the Johnny Cash song. I’m playing a young man convicted of a crime he didn’t commit. You’re all playing COs. It’s a horror flick with a supernatural aspect—there’s a ghost out for revenge against my character. The four characters have to survive by working together as the ghost slowly kills inmates and guards at the prison.”

Toledano blinked and nodded. “Hey, I’d totally watch that. Is it a real script you’ve written?”

“No. I made it up just now.” He blushed.

“Try writing it in your spare time.” Elisa shrugged. “It can’t be any worse than what they’re turning out these days, and it’s not like you don’t know the industry.”

Kurt ducked his head. He might write it, eventually. He’d have to sell it under a pen name, though. Kurt McNeil was just a dim bulb, bad boy who lived to party. Having an alternate income stream couldn’t hurt, though.

“Anyway, you guys know what we should be looking for. You’ll have to guide me, because there’s obviously stuff going on here you don’t want me to know, and I’m fine with that. But we’ll go in tomorrow. Elisa, you make the call to the warden and make the arrangements, okay?”

“Sure, no problem.” She pulled out her phone. “It’s all on the same tab anyway.”

The SEALs were all staring openly at him. “What?” he said, spreading his hands wide.

* * *

Dom paced as he waited for the team to get back from the prison. He couldn’t think of a good reason for the platoon to be going into the prison, if Texas authorities didn’t want them there. They were only supposed to work their magic overseas, damn it. The SEALs weren’t independent. They worked at the behest of the government, not against it.

Then again, the government seemed to be working against the government these days. Trials had just begun for the eleven congressmen arrested as a result of Church and Mohammad’s investigations into Chaos Tree, and it was already getting ugly. The president and his men were howling about witch hunts, and the opposition party was screaming shrilly about tearing everything down, and every day rhetoric on both sides was getting increasingly volatile. Maybe there were orders to be here after all.

“You’re wearing a hole in the carpet.” Toledano gave him a dirty look. “The poor kid’s going to have to pay it back.”

“He can afford it.” Dom waved a hand. “I ain’t worried.”

“Wow. This isn’t like you, Van Heel. You’re usually pretty respectful of other people’s property. What exactly did Hollywood do to you that makes you hate him this much?”

Dom scoffed. “I don’t hate him. I just, I don’t know. It’s weird.” He looked around. They were alone in the room. They could speak freely. “He’s never done anything in his life, you know? He just drifts from place to place, making scads of money to go out, party, and be a pretty face on the screen. He’s got a keeper, for fuck’s sake. And still half the country hangs on his every movement, like he’s some kind of hero, while real heroes can’t get a job when they leave the service.”

“Then why’d you sleep with him?” Toledano scratched his head. “I don’t get it. I’m not saying you’ve got to go and marry the guy, but if you hate him—and spare me the blather, it sure sounds like you hate him—then you probably should have kept it in your pants, bro.”

“Probably.” Dom sighed. “We were chatting, I guess, and it was kind of this thing. And I was thinking, well, why not me? Then I realized that keeper of his set us up, had set the whole thing up, and I was just—” He tugged at his hair. “I’m not usually this inarticulate.”

“So you felt differently about him when you realized he got that keeper of his to set you two up?”

“No, no, it wasn’t like that. He wasn’t into it. He just went along with it.”

Toledano opened his mouth into a big, round “o.” “I see,” he said after a moment. “That’s what’s got you down. Your whole self-image is being undermined.”

“That’s bullshit.” Dom scowled. “It’s got nothing to do with my self-image. I’m a SEAL. I fight for my country. I’m one of the best of the best, and no punk actor is going to take that away from me. It’s him. He’s some guy. He just—he doesn’t necessarily want it, or me, he flits from guy to guy and he lets us do whatever we want, and he’s not even into it. He’s literally just a toy. And it’s gross. I feel gross. He made me feel gross.” Dom scratched at his arms. “I went in there wanting it and wanting him, and now I just feel dirty and gross.”

“Imagine how he feels.” Toledano pulled away from him. “I mean how did he get that way? What put him into a position to let himself get treated like that? It doesn’t sound like it can be much fun for him, you know?”

“He lets it happen.” Dom sat down on his bed and rubbed at his temples. “He must be okay with it. Then he pops up with an idea like the one he had yesterday, and you’d think he had a brain in there, but then I can’t forget that he just lets that ghoul set the paparazzi to follow him around and all that. He’s got to be completely dim.”

“You’re the most judgmental fucker I’ve met in a long time.” Toledano shook his head. “I mean, I’m not the guy’s friend either, but I can at least see there’s something going on there.”

Dom opened his mouth to reply, but his phone buzzed before he could say anything. Chief wanted them all to go upstairs and regroup in Hollywood’s room. The insertion team was back from the jail, and they had a report.

Dom and Toledano headed up to Hollywood’s room. The whole crew was there, and Hollywood was scratching at his arms like some kind of addict. He was in the middle of speaking as Dom and Toledano walked in. “That prison is a bloody shit hole,” he said, with more passion in his voice than Dom had heard outside of his freakout about the plane. “It should be burned.”

“It’s a prison, dumbass.” Dom scoffed at him. “It’s not supposed to be a resort.”

Toledano elbowed him.

Hollywood curled his lip. “I spoke with men today who were walking skeletons. Hadn’t eaten in days. The temperature in those cells was beyond brutal. There’s no air, you can’t breathe, these men have no access to mental health care—and yes, you pillock, I did check to make sure the law requires that here. It does.”

Dom made a mental note to look up “pillock” just as soon as he got a chance. “I’m just saying, these guys aren’t in there for vacation. They’re in prison for a reason. You get that, right? They did something bad. They’re out there selling crack to kids or killing their wives or whatever.” He waved a hand. “Maybe in jolly old England you have the money and time to hold their hands and coddle them, but here we tend to think punishment should be, you know, a punishment.”

“And then when you’ve starved them and tortured them, what exactly do you plan to do with them? Turn them loose on an unsuspecting populace so when they can’t cope you can lock them right back up?” Hollywood waved a hand. “Look. I’m not going to change your mind. I don’t actually care enough about you to try. I did learn something, though.”

“Did you learn to stay out of American politics?” Buelen asked with a smirk.

“I learned your prisoner didn’t make any friends among the inmates. Even the white supremacists avoided him, and he went to great lengths to try to make nice with them. The men on his wing noticed there were absolutely no bed checks on the night he died.” Hollywood ignored the jibe.

Hopper wrinkled his nose. “That doesn’t jive with the procedures we were told.” He sat down on the couch and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I see what you mean about the conditions, but some of that is on the inmates themselves. Yeah, it’s on the state to provide access to mental health services and to put some AC and ventilation into the place, but some of those inmates are actively refusing food. And I don’t think you’ll meet an inmate who’d tell you this wasn’t an unsafe work environment for the guards. They might want to help, but it’s risky.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It was a big incentive not to get involved with the prison system, in any way. I’ll tell you that much.”

“I’m with you there.” Hollywood smirked. “Anyway, whatever it is you gentlemen are looking for, you might find it in a guard who quit a few days after Conley died. An inmate slipped me his name.” He pulled a piece of torn brown paper from his pocket and handed it to Chief.

DeWitt frowned, but he didn’t seem hostile now. “I’m dying to know now. How is it that you managed to get this and all of Navy Intelligence didn’t?”

Hollywood flashed him that big, pretty smile that had Dom wanting to drop to his knees. “It’s easy. Between the whole ‘movie star’ thing and the bad boy crap, they trusted me more.” He shrugged. “I never figured it would actually be useful to have my life out in everyone’s face in quite this way, but here we are.”

Dom tilted his head to the side. He couldn’t quite understand that sentiment. He didn’t need to, though. “Wait a minute. You got unfettered, unsupervised access to prisoners?”

“Van Heel, were you actually worried about me?” Hollywood curled his lip. “I’m touched, really. No, the prisoners were supervised. I made sure I shook hands with all of them to thank them for their time. I might have spent my teens in a pit of vipers, but I wasn’t raised in a barn.” His nostrils flared as he snorted and turned his head away from Van Heel. “I’m sure you’ve all got super secret Navy things to discuss now, so I’ll just wash up and head out for dinner.” He headed into his bathroom.

“The kid is weird.” Dom shook his head.

“He’s actually pretty skilled at what he does.” Floyd fixed Dom with a hostile stare. “He knows what assets he has, and he’s willing to use them. It’s not all that different from us. Anyway, we should look this guard up. The guards we spoke with didn’t give up much. They did talk a little bit about the pressure on them, though. The pay is crap, and the conditions in there are pretty terrible. The inmates did something to put themselves there, for the most part, but the guards didn’t.”

“So that could be a motive for them to cooperate with someone offering money. Just a chance to get some extra compensation for what’s essentially a shit job.” Kelly made a face. “Man, I don’t envy those guys.”

A handful of the guys—Kelly, Fitzpatrick, Adami, Floyd, Robson, and Hopper—headed out with Chief to talk in greater detail. DeWitt dismissed the rest of them in the hopes of giving Hollywood his privacy back. Dom and Toledano headed back to their room to change and get ready for dinner. The hotel had a few restaurants, and they figured they might as well enjoy it.

Once they got downstairs, they found Hollywood sitting at a table by himself. He had a tablet in front of him, and he was frowning at it. Dom would have been perfectly happy to keep going, but Toledano was feeling all altruistic and whatever. He headed over to Hollywood’s table. “Hey, Hollywood.”

“Kurt.” Hollywood looked up at them.

“Excuse me?” Toledano blinked a few times.

“My name is Kurt. Mr. McNeil if we’re being formal, although that’s my dad’s name so it sounds weird to me. It’s not Hollywood. I’m very much aware that you don’t call me that out of affection or acceptance.” He looked up. “Are you looking for dinner?”

“Well, we were hoping.” Toledano shifted his weight. “Is this place any good?”

“No idea.” He glanced at Dom and flattened his lips out into a thin line. “Please, feel free to join me.”

“We’d rather not.” Dom took a step away.

“We’d love to.” Toledano sat down and turned his head to face Dom. “Don’t be an infant, Van Heel.” He looked back at Kurt. “So what were you reading? A new script?”

“I wish.” Kurt made a face. “No, something that came up while I was at the jail was that the GED program there has been put on hold due to lack of study materials.” He sighed and rubbed at his temples. “And I know most of the guys in there have been convicted of crimes they actually committed. I get that. But most of the crime in the developed world stems from poverty. None of these guys are going to be able to build much of a life for themselves without a degree, right?”

Dom rolled his eyes. “I notice you’re not concerned about their victims, though.”

“The guy who gave us the information,that will hopefully lead to whatever brought you back to Texas, is in jail for dealing in marijuana. He was selling to pay for his mother’s hospital bills. He gets that it was a crime, and he has to do the time. But if he can’t get a job when he gets out, he’s just going to wind up coming right back here.”

“So anyway. I figured I’d make a donation, but I’m having trouble finding a way to make it anonymously.” Kurt scowled back at the tablet.

Dom bit the inside of his cheek. “I’ve never heard about you giving stuff away before.”

“Well, no. Of course you haven’t. You’re not supposed to. That’s what anonymous means.” Kurt looked up at him like he was exercising all of his patience. “It hardly fits with an image of a hard-partying little bimbo omega, does it?” He shook his head a little bit and looked back down at his tablet.

“So you honestly just…go around donating stuff, and not telling anyone, because it might make you look like you have too much substance.” Toledano rubbed his jaw. “That’s weird, man.”

Dom’s stomach twisted. “Why would you even do that?”

“Look, it’s pretty simple. My ability to act is part of what gets me big roles. But it’s not all. Publicity is also what gets me those roles. Directors want me because I’m a damn good actor. Producers want me because they can count on a certain amount of free publicity, because I’m in the media and whatnot.” Kurt fixed him with a cool stare.

“So, you’re not really out partying or anything.” Toledano leaned back in his chair.

“I go out to be seen out there. The studios usually want an omega actor to have an ‘assistant’ who makes sure they keep their image up, whatever that image may be, so my assistant arranges things. It’s all part of the job. Eventually, I’ll get to a point where I won’t have to play that game anymore, but until then I have to keep on doing it. So.” He waved his tablet. “Anonymous.”

“I see.” Toledano frowned. “Why not just get Ms. Sommer to go and make the donation for you?”

“I don’t want her in that part of my business.” He looked away for a moment, and then broke out into a smile as the waitress approached.

Dom ordered mechanically, but his mind was reeling. Everything about Kurt was an act. More to the point, he’d pulled Dom into that act. Sure, Sommer had arranged it, but Kurt sure as hell hadn’t been forced. He’d known Dom was being used, he’d known it was all fake, and he went ahead and did it anyway.

He just accepted it as part of business.

Dom didn’t want to eat dinner with him anymore. He wanted to get as far away aspossible.