Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“Let me at the C-4.” Not even glancing at Dustin, Wes waggled his eyebrows at Curly. They were practicing creating and removing obstructions on roads today—a not infrequent hazard they had to deal with in the field where they might need to lie in ambush for hours, waiting for a target, or alternatively, get somewhere in a hurry, clearing debris or vegetation or hostiles in an efficient manner.
Unlike the big explosions they’d done in training and on their last mission, which used a lot of C-4 all at once to clear an area, this trip was all about the precise strike—cutting a tree with a half-pound block, making it fall at the perfect angle to block the road and not hurt anyone in the process, using ribbons of C-4 to take out a girder, as they might on a bridge, and using identical charges on both sides of an abutment so a simultaneous explosion would crumple the concrete. They were also playing with det cord—the stuff that made the C-4 explode—lining ditches for ambushes. This sort of operation was what Wes specialized in, and as maddening as these past few days had been, not being able to talk to him, it was always a pleasure to watch the man work.
Dustin’s main role on the four-man demo team was to supervise, coordinate and double-check their work, while Wes was the real star who ensured that each explosion did exactly what they wanted. After they finished eating, they felled some trees—small ones about twelve inches in diameter, and it was fun, watching Wes come more and more into his element with each detonation. He’d been with the guy 24/7, and yet still longed for the other Wes, the guy who had been in his hotel room last week, the guy who had driven Dustin out of his mind.
“I’ve got to piss,” Curly announced before they moved to the ancient cement pylons and girders the navy had conveniently dropped in the middle of bumfuck nowhere here for their next challenge. Curly was fighting off some sort of kidney thing—the medics said he was okay to work, but he was downing massive quantities of water and complaining up a storm.
“Need me to refill your water pack? Mine is almost empty too,” Shiny offered. “I can jog back to base camp while you take care of business.”
“Thanks.” Curly pulled his hydration pack loose and handed it to Shiny, who also grabbed Wes’s before departing at a fast clip for the rest of the team. Curly wandered off in the direction of some scrubby trees, leaving Dustin alone with Wes with nothing to do but wait.
“You doing okay?” Dustin scooted a bit closer so that he could lower his voice.
“Yeah.” Wes nodded. “Mom called right before we left. Sam’s holding steady. Still no donor heart, but the medical team is optimistic. I’ve got my head in the game, don’t worry.”
Wish I had mine. “Not worried. Just...” Fuck. How was Dustin supposed to articulate the jumble of thoughts in his brain? I miss you. Miss talking to you. Tell me something. Anything.
“Gonna be online tonight?” Wes asked in low tones. They weren’t using com sets since they needed earmuffs for the explosions, and the rest of the team was busy with other projects.
“I shouldn’t,” Dustin said even as the urge to invite Wes over swelled inside him, a tsunami of need. But he needed to be logical here. Safe. “We do need to talk though—”
“I don’t want to talk,” Wes spat. “Because yeah, I already know what you’re going to say. And I can agree, but I don’t have to like it.”
“You think I do?” Dustin slid closer without really meaning to.
Wes made a frustrated noise. He’d leaned in, so that now their shoulders were almost touching. “I want—”
“Back,” Curly announced as he loped up. Fuck. Dustin moved away—not too fast, didn’t want to appear guilty, but he’d been beyond stupid trying to have a personal conversation with Wes out here.
“We ready?” Curly asked. His gaze shifted between the two of them. Not exactly speculative, but there was a curiosity there that Dustin hated seeing.
“Waiting on Shiny.” Dustin’s voice was gruff, and he turned away from both Curly and Wes to scan for Shiny, who sure enough, was jogging toward them.
“I’m here.” Despite the dry desert air, Shiny wasn’t even out of breath—the benefit of being young with boundless energy. And he was a good distraction from the tension with Wes. Keeping Shiny reined in and on task as they set up for the girder demolition fast became Dustin’s primary focus as they worked, sun beating down on them.
Over the years, the navy had provided all sorts of things for them to blow up at the bomb test range—military vehicles, boats, even a plane or two, so the derelict construction pieces weren’t that unusual of a challenge. However, he still needed to keep his head about him as Wes mapped out their strategy and Dustin divvied up the work. Timing was going to be critical, as always as they had a target time for the whole exercise as well as requirements for getting clear of the blast zone. Concrete and metal structures were always tricky, as debris could be a real hazard.