Bandits Engaged (Battlegroup Z Book 4) by Daniel Gibbs (classic literature list .txt) 📗

“Not so fast.”

All eyes turned to Adeoye as he held up his cards. “I believe my straight flush beats yours.”

Justin blinked. Sure enough, they did. Heh. It’s always the quiet ones that get you in this game.

Adeoye collected the chips and stacked them neatly in front of him. “I was thinking, sir. I’d like to put in for the squadron-commander position in the Winged Lightnings.”

Silence descended over the room.

“Jackson, they lost half their bombers against that carrier,” Feldstein replied with emotion. “We’ve got a good thing going here. We should stick together.”

“I’m rated for both craft,” Adeoye said, the rich timbre of his voice filtering across the table. “And I believe I could make a difference. The remaining pilots are demoralized and shaken by the loss of two squadron commanders.

“You’re sure?” Justin asked.

“I am.”

Feldstein leaned forward. “Maulers have nothing in common with Sabres. They’re slow, the turn radius sucks—”

Justin held up a hand. “We’re not debating this here. I’ll make a recommendation to Major Whatley, and that’s the end of it. Now, let’s get back to the cards.”

“Yes, sir,” Feldstein ground out.

The hatch buzzer interrupted the conversation.

Mateus tilted her head. “Who could that be?”

Justin grinned. “I might’ve invited a new player.”

“Better not be one of those rubes from the Black Hogs,” Feldstein said archly.

“Nah, even better,” Justin replied. “It’s open. Come in!”

All four of them looked toward the opening hatch, which revealed the form of Major Nishimura. He had on a pair of athletic shorts and a T-shirt that proclaimed No One Promised You a Rose Garden.

“You invited a Marine?” Mateus's accent became more pronounced.

Nishimura let out a belly laugh. “Nice reception there. I heard about this mythical card game between Alpha from your CO here. He said I could drop by. What? You hotshots are afraid of a single Marine?” He pulled a chair from the living room and set it at the table.

Everyone glanced at one another.

“I thought it would be nice to have some new competition,” Justin said.

“You mean someone else for me to clean out.” Mateus’s eyes glinted.

Nishimura met her stare with one of his own. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

Laughter yet again broke out from everyone.

Justin tossed a chip into the center of the table. “Ante up.”

It felt good to see them relaxing. He was mildly annoyed at Adeoye for bringing up the bomber squadron’s losses and current lack of leadership in what amounted to a war-free zone but understood where he was coming from. Jackson wants to make a difference. Nothing wrong with that.

The game began in earnest, and several rounds were played as they felt out Nishimura.

As usual, it came down to Mateus, who’d become uncannily good at figuring out the hands of other players. “I’ll see your bet and raise five credits.”

“Ooh. Big money.” Justin snickered. “Watch out, Major. She won one of Feldstein’s shirts a few weeks ago after she lost everything.”

Nishimura slid his entire stack of coins forward. “Care to match me, Lieutenant?”

“I’d be glad to,” Mateus replied as she batted her eyelashes.

“Show ’em.”

Mateus slowly turned each card in her hand over. She had a seven, an eight, a nine, a ten, and a jack of hearts. “Straight flush.” Her hands went for the pile of chips.

“That’s a lovely hand,” Nishimura replied with a grin. Slowly and deliberately, he turned over his cards. “But I’ve got five of a kind.”

Mateus cursed in Portuguese before slamming her fist on the table. “Spencer did the same thing when he played me. You both cheated!” Her accent was deep enough that understanding all the words coming out of her mouth was difficult.

“Nah. I don’t need to cheat, Lieutenant. All Marines are gifted at cards.” Nishimura scooped up all the chips. “I’ll make sure the guys know you chipped in to get them steak dinners when I do my side supply purchase.”

Before anyone could respond, a knock came at the hatch.

“You invited more Marines?” Mateus asked darkly but with a touch of amusement.

“Not me,” Justin replied.

“Come in!” Mateus shouted.

The hatch swung open, and Whatley stood there with a bottle of alcohol in one hand. “I’ve meant to crash this card game for a while now.” He strode in and did a double-take at Nishimura. “What the… What’s he doing here?”

Nishimura sprang from his chair and gestured at the pile of credits. “Soliciting donations to the TCMC steak fund. Your pilots were in quite the giving mood.”

As Justin and Feldstein doubled over laughing, Whatley’s eyes grew wide.

“Oh hell no,” the CAG replied. “Sit your ass down, Marine. You and I are going to settle this man-to-man.”

“Ooh, this is gonna be good,” Mateus said to peals of laughter.

“I’ll go get some popcorn from the mess,” Adeoye interjected. “We’ll need it.”

The laughter continued, and as they got back to playing, Justin felt good. Even amid all the pain and strife around them, they could still feel and enjoy one another’s company. It made all the difference in the universe.

25

Jason Nolan’s days seemed to grow longer and longer. Maybe it’s just my getting older. He’d already flipped through the daily presidential intelligence brief on his tablet while brushing his teeth and shaving for the day. It brought another list of trouble spots, problems, and League attacks.

At 0655 sharp, Abdul Karimi, his chief of staff, stuck his head through one of the Oval Office doors. “Mr. President, are you ready?”

Nolan snapped his Bible shut. Until a year ago, he’d cracked it open maybe once or twice a year. Now, he sought solace and wisdom within its pages daily. Anything to give him strength to make difficult decisions that sent millions of men and women into harm's way. “I am.” He stood.

They walked down the hall to the briefing theater. A small army of military officers and civilian advisors clustered around a thirty-person conference table and lined dozens of chairs along each side of the room.

General Antonio Saurez leaped to his feet along with everyone else the moment Nolan crossed the threshold. “Commander in chief on deck.”