Fireteam Delta by J. Halpin (ebook reader that looks like a book txt) 📕

Asle just stared back at him, impassive.

The caravan was disassembling tents from the previous night, loading up so they could leave as fast as possible. The city was only a few days away at this point, and nobody wanted to take the chance they’d run into trouble this close to safety. Considering this was the final stop for a lot of cargo that had been brought along the way, the merchants were probably just eager to make their money and get out of town as Summers’ group was. It was better if everyone left before they got involved in the fighting that was sure to come.

“Are you seriously complaining about getting laid?” Cortez quirked her eyebrow.

“She tricked me into sleeping with her,” Summers suggested. “Probably, I was drunk.”

“Yuhuh . . .”

Summers read the skepticism on everyone’s faces. “Look, the point is, this is a problem. If they think we’re something more than people, they might try to get us involved in this war. That’s not good.”

Between the killing field they’d left, and the order from the city, there were already whispers about some secret the group was hiding. The truth was that they were hiding something, but godhood wasn’t it.

“I don’t get it. What’s wrong with being gods?” Cortez considered.

“People will look to us to help them, and they will turn on us if we can’t. Or won’t.”

“That actually makes sense—especially if we take preferential treatment, which we’re sure to get,” Logan agreed.

Cortez just eyed Summers in response. “And we have to deal with this because you couldn’t keep it in your pants for five minutes?”

“To be fair, you guys never came looking for me.”

Cortez smiled sweetly.

“You’re right. It’s our fault. Lucky for you, I have a solution right here that might help.” Her smile only widened. “God’s don’t bleed, right?”

“What?”

That was all Summers managed to get out before Cortez’s fist slammed into his face.

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Summers nursed his black eye as the caravan rumbled along down the main road. Synel had actually checked in on him after news had spread of his injury, which hadn’t gone as well as Cortez had planned.

According to rumors Asle and the kids had overheard, they thought Summers and Cortez were a couple, and that Synel had “encroached” on her territory. Which, given their previous demigod status, kept the woman far, far away from their wagon. That was fine in Summers’ eyes because he wasn’t sure how to handle her right now. It was not fine for Cortez.

“I hate you so goddamn much. Really. Watch your back,” Cortez shouted to the front, where Summers sat driving.

“All right, keep it quiet, lovebirds.”

Cortez turned to Nowak.

“I have a grenade, and I will take all of you with me.”

Summers had turned down around a dozen gifts that morning: everything from armor to spears. Everyone had been looking at them strangely since they arrived in the caravan, and now, with actual proof that they were different on a physical level, there was no shortage of merchants trying to curry favor. They’d refused everything, of course, mostly because Nowak didn’t want to haul around a bunch of crap they’d have to sell in the city, which might not go over well if the merchants caught wind.

And while Summers wasn’t running to see her, he knew avoiding Synel wasn’t right. Even if she was doing it of her own accord. He resolved to clear things up later that night, preferably with Asle’s help. Hell, she could stab him a little if that meant an end to all of this.

Summers was brought back to reality when the wagon in front of him came to an abrupt halt. He craned his neck to see what was happening.

“Looks like we got a tree down in front of us,” Nowak called out. He’d been perched on top of the wagon. “Guns ready, just in case.”

“Of fucking course.” Summers chambered a round in his rifle and flipped the safety to off. They’d seen enough IEDs in their time to know that a block in the road was something you should be paranoid about. “Where are the kids?”

Asle and the others had wandered off to look at the different wagons while they traveled. If they ran into trouble . . .

Sure enough, a shout came from behind them. They saw a cluster of guards moving to the source of the noise. The caravan was set more or less in a single file line. Summers’ wagon was set up somewhere in the middle, which meant that the trouble was at least a good distance from them.

To their relief Asle, Beorn, and Erne came from the opposite direction, clearly understanding that something wasn’t right.

“Hold it. Let the guards do their job,” Nowak called down.

“You sure, Sarge?”

“They haven’t seen what guns do yet, and considering how many we’ve got stashed in the wagon, I’d like to avoid showing them off, if possible. Besides, we’re merchants, not mercenaries, remember?”

Summers spotted movement from his right, and a man with a bow stepped out from the brush just beside the three kids. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t ask for permission. Summers fired into the man’s chest, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Erne screamed just as an arrow slammed into the wagon, followed quickly by another. Summers noted Beorn grabbing his sister before a third shot hit. The two covered for the upcoming barrage as their parents yelled something from the back that Summers couldn’t understand.

“Right. Weapons free,” Nowak called out.

Summers saw Asle holding her pistol with her free hand, searching the woods.

“Asle. Wagon. Now!”

He didn’t need her looking for trouble.

As he spoke, more men came from the forest. They were cut down as fast as they appeared, much to the relief of the traders alongside Summers’ group.