"How's it going?" It's Riley, approaching from the direction of his assigned quarters.
"Definitely not boring," I reply.
He sits beside me. He's the muscle on the team with a Hollywood smile and the ability to charm any woman he crosses. While all the guys are strong, Riley is a bear.
"That's the way we like it," he says with one of his trademark grins. He's looking at the open door to his barracks. Light pours out of the front door and windows, and I can see kids dancing and milling around.
"You having issues getting them to sleep?" I ask.
"Nah. They'll wear themselves out." He's quiet for a minute. "Hopefully. I didn't realize kids had this much energy."
I laugh.
"Got two of my own. No fucking clue," he quips.
With a nod, I don't pry. Riley had a problem keeping his dick in his pants the first few years in the military. I know his history only because I had to look over his admin paperwork a time or two. Two kids, two different mothers, neither of which he's married to. A diehard bachelor, he's learned a thing or two about not sleeping around as much, though I'm pretty sure the kids and child support aren't a total deterrent.
"You figure out why your partner wants to kill mine every time they cross paths?" he asks. "She won't say."
"I can't even begin to guess," I reply. "I have never met anyone so stubborn."
"Hey, at least she ain't hitting on you all day," Riley said ruefully. "I love a pretty girl, but Brianna … pretty sure Petr's got his eye on her. He lost his leg to save my ass. Not gonna take his girl."
"Pretty sure you can handle flirting."
"It's better than people shooting at you."
"I wish I could say the same about his sister."
Riley laughs.
"Great team we have here." Katya's cold voice comes from behind me.
Goddamn it. I checked our room and the bathroom before coming out. Assuming she'd gone wherever she fucking wanted, I didn't bother looking for her anywhere else. I can't say anything right around her.
"It's almost a compliment," Riley says, not missing a beat. "Captain Mathis loves a firefight."
We both twist to look at her. Standing in the doorway, she's glaring at me, dressed in shorts and a long sleeve t-shirt, her arms crossed.
"It was an inappropriate thing for me to say." No part of me wants to apologize, but I remind myself that I'm dealing with a civilian.
"You're welcome to find yourself a new team," she says. Stepping inside, she closes the door quietly.