Gladys mouth worked up and down in apparent surprise, then she shot up from the chair behind her desk as though she’d been poked in the ass with a straight pin. “Sir-- McCann-- Stop! You can’t just barge in there!”
“The hell I can’t,” Guy said, striding into Garrett’s office. “Hide and watch me.” The Colonel’s startled blue gaze swung to his and Guy knew instantly that the older man knew exactly why he was here.
His brow wrinkled into an annoyed line. “McCann--“
Guy planted both fists in the middle of Garrett’s desk and leaned forward. “What the hell are you playing at?” His voice was so hard he barely recognized it as his own.
“What do you mean?”
“Fuck it,” Guy said, instantly disgusted. He wasn’t going to play word games with Garrett. The crafty old bastard knew exactly why he was here and yet he wanted to pretend to be thick? Waste more of his time? His life? Guy drew back and pivoted on his heel. “I’m through. I don’t owe you a goddamned thing. Debt paid, Garrett.”
Guy heard Garrett’s chair slam against the credenza behind his desk. “Wait.”
Guy didn’t know what made him turn around--the fact that Garrett had actually vaulted out of his chair or the slight hint of desperation he heard in the old man’s voice. “What?”
Ashen-faced, his brow dotted with perspiration, Garrett gestured toward a chair. “Please hear me out.”
Guy crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his back against the door. “I’ll stand. You have thirty seconds. Don’t mince words and don’t leave anything out. I. Am. Done. Do I make myself clear?”
Clearly shaken, Garrett resumed his seat. “I’m assuming you’re here because of Rutland?”
Guy grunted and felt a smirk roll around his lips. “That’s why you’re the Colonel. You just wasted five seconds.”
Garrett paused, seemingly at a loss. He sighed and in that instant he aged ten years right before Guy’s eyes. “He’s the best we’ve got, McCann. The cream of the crop is in that room right now and unfortunately--like it or not--he’s part of it.”
Guy snorted darkly. “Well, if he’s the best you’ve got, then you need to scrap this plan altogether because it won’t work.”
He felt betrayed, Guy realized. He’d always secretly suspected that Garrett had been proud of he, Jamie and Payne when they’d put that arrogant bastard in his place. And yet he wanted Guy to teach him? Work with a man who absolutely no respect for his fellow peers? For the risks they took, the lives which had been lost?
He couldn’t do it.
Wouldn’t.
“I can’t scrap it,” Garrett said, seemingly agitated. “I need this to work, McCann. That’s why I brought you here, dammit. You’re the only guy who can make it happen. I have faith in you.”
Then that made one of them, Guy thought, smothering a grunt of derision.
“My back’s against the wall,” Garrett finally--reluctantly--admitted. “If this team isn’t successful, I might as well retire.”
“Would that be so bad?”
Garrett smiled sadly. “For a man like me? Yes.”
The man was old and in fear of becoming a has-been. He’d become the job--it defined him--and retiring clearly meant losing his identity. Guy felt sorry for him, he really did. But favor or not, honor be damned, he couldn’t do this. It would never work.
Guy released a pent-up breath and massaged the bridge of his nose. “Colonel, I have always had the utmost respect for you, but I won’t work with Rutland--and you know why. Danny was my friend--more than a friend--and I won’t help a man take his place who had so little respect for the life he lost.” He lifted a shoulder in a negligent shrug. “If he’s the best you’ve got, then we’re both wasting our time.”
Garrett sighed as though he fully expected Guy’s response. “Do you have an alternate suggestion?”
“Eliminate him. Poll the other guys for a replacement. Trust is key here and they’ll never trust Rutland, and if they do they’re idiots. You know as well as I do that Project Chameleon doesn’t have room for idiots.”
Furthermore, given Rutland’s penchant for running off at the mouth, Guy knew he’d have a helluva time getting them to trust him now. No doubt the mangy SOB had already filled them in on his failure and undermined his authority. Guy mentally swore, his mouth went dry and nausea crept up the back of his throat.
He’d have to tell them about Danny.
Garrett studied Guy, seemed to be weighing his advice.
“This is a deal breaker, Colonel. Who do you need worse--him or me?”
“Send him to me,” Garrett said without hesitation. His brows formed an intimidating line. “This had better work, McCann. The remainder of my career is riding on it.”
“Trust me. It’s the only way it’ll work.”
Satisfied and looking forward to wiping the smug smile off Rutland’s face, Guy backtracked across base, parked Julia’s little car as close to the building as he could and then made his way back upstairs to the classroom.
In the middle of dispensing hand-outs, Julia’s questioning gaze swung to his as he re-entered the room. “--and p-please give it a careful read before coming back to class tomorrow. There’s a questionnaire in the back which will help us determine how each of you, on an individual basis, learns to trust.”
Guy strolled to the front of the classroom and joined Julia. He felt his lips slide into a smile and his gaze found Rutland’s. He paused, savoring the moment. This is for you, Danny. Not as good as decking him, but it’d do in a pinch. “Colonel Garrett would like to see you.”
Rutland’s jaw tensed. “I’ll go after class. I’d hate to miss anything you’re going to teach us.”
“Then I’m afraid you’ll be hating it. He wants to see you now.” Guy jerked his head toward the door, dismissing him. “Collect your things and go.”
Rutland laughed and shook his head. Hate blazed from his eyes. “Got me bounced, didn’t you?”
Guy nodded once and a hard smile curled his lips. “Count on it.”
From the corner of his eye he caught Julia’s pleased expression and for whatever reason, that tiny smile and look of satisfaction in those clear green eyes made him want to beat his chest and roar like a true Neanderthal. She was proud of him, Guy realized, and the idea made him feel positively...wonderful.
Grumbling under his breath, but not loud enough for Guy to understand what he was saying, Rutland gathered his things--loudly, of course--and slammed the door on his way out.
Guy surveyed the other three men in front of him, gauging their response. One guy--O’Malley--according to the white sticky name tag adhered to his shirt--Julia’s work, no doubt, he thought stifling a smile--looked openly relieved.
Jamie, Guy thought.
His gaze shifted to the next man--Holt. Cool, impassive, the perfect poker face. He kept his own council and you wouldn’t know his opinion unless he chose to share it with you.
Payne.
Guy surveyed the last man in the room, a dark-haired clear-eyed man named Mitchell who met his gaze directly. Smart, a bit cocky and from the vaguest hint of relief in his gaze, he too was glad to see the backside of Rutland leaving this crew. He smiled at Guy and gave a slight up-nod of appreciation.
And him, Guy realized, recognizing the similarities.
“Richard Rutland will no longer be a part of this unit,” Guy said. “I’ve spoken with Colonel Garrett and he’s given me permission to poll the three of you for a replacement.” He paused, letting the statement sink in. “Any recommendations?”
The three men looked at each other and though no one said a word, Holt finally spoke up. “Jack Anderson.”
Guy looked to the other two men. “Anderson is a stand-up guy,” Mitchell said, adding his approval.
O’Malley nodded once, indicating a decisive nature. “I’d want him at my back.”
“Will he be interested in becoming part of this unit?”
“Definitely,” Mitchell told him.
Guy nodded and set his hands at his waist. “Good. I’ll alert Colonel Garrett of the replacement and see to it that Anderson reports ASAP.” He glanced at each of them in turn. “Any questions?” A thousand hung in the air, but no one voiced any, so Guy merely nodded. “Okay. I’m former Lt. Colonel Guy McCann and I was unit commander of Project Chameleon until the death of a good friend of mine.”
Better to address it head-on, Guy thought, bracing himself for the confession. He hadn’t truly spoken of Danny’s death to anyone since it had happened--with Jamie and Payne he hadn’t had to. They’d gotten it, had known what he’d been going through without him having to spell it out for them. Words hadn’t been necessary. Grief had had a language all its own.
“Danny Levinson was killed in action during our last mission. We were ambushed.” He paused, swallowed as the memory threatened to smother him. “At that point my remaining unit partners and I decided to leave the military. We currently run a security and PI business in Atlanta. I’m here because Colonel Garrett has asked me to be here. I’m here to share my experience, the good, the bad and the ugly.” He smiled. “Welcome to the big leagues, gentleman. Let’s get started.”