State of Emergency

CHAPTER 30


January 1





It was four-thirty in the morning when Boaz Quinn walked to the door with a bowl of cereal. A swarm of moths thumped against the screen, trying to get to the light. He wore only his boxers and a loose white T-shirt. The angry black octopus tattoo contrasted sharply with the tan flesh of his arm. Assorted scars from blade and bullet mapped the rough-and-tumble life Bo Quinn had led since striking out on his own shortly after high school.

Jericho had already finished a protein and carbohydrate shake that would become his pre-breakfast staple over the next two weeks and sat on a bench by the front door snapping the cam-locks on his riding boots. Thibodaux was outside loading extra tires on top of the support truck.

“There’s a chickaloon in the shower,” Bo said. He slurped placidly on a spoonful of cereal, apparently used to women showing up in surprise places. “She almost cut me when I went in to pee.”

“That’s Aleksandra. She’s working with us now,” Jericho said, giving a brief explanation.

“A Rusky?” Bo gave a long, groaning stretch, holding the cereal bowl out in front of him. “You know how I feel about Russians.”

“I know,” Quinn said. The entire incident—a fight with some drunk Russian nationals talking smack about America during his Air Force Academy parade—had very nearly made it so Jericho wasn’t allowed to graduate. It had become the stuff of Academy legend and followed him his entire career. “Behave,” he chided. “This particular Russian is after the same thing we are.”

Bo held up his spoon and shook it at Jericho to drive home his point. “Did I mention she nearly cut me a minute ago? I thought it was you in the shower. Anyways, I hear Russian women are—”

“Russian women are what?” Aleksandra’s husky voice came from the stairs. She was dressed in a pair of white shorts and a blue and white striped tank top. Red hair hung in damp ringlets around her shoulders from the shower.

Bo waved her off, but shot a “save me” glance at Quinn.

“I’m interested too, brother.” Jericho grinned. “What is it you hear about Russian women?”

“I prefer American women,” Bo grumbled, going back to eating his cereal. “That’s all.”

Aleksandra let the trill of her accent creep fully into her words. “You spend two minutes with a Russian woman and you will throw rocks at American girls.”

Jericho chuckled at that. A woman who could go toe-to-toe with his brother was a rare find indeed.

“Come on,” Jericho said, looking at Kanatova. “You can ride with me to ASO headquarters before the start of the first stage. We need to get you a wristband now that you’re officially a member of Team Quinn or you won’t be able to get into camp every night.”