He cast a quick glance around, but nobody else was there but Irish. Since when did Donovan refer to him by his rank when they were alone? “Sir,” he responded, automatically coming to attention. “We need to discuss the incident that took place on the field today.” “Incident?” Gabriel’s gut clenched but his blank expression didn’t change. Irish hadn’t been on the field today. He’d been at headquarters being briefed on the training changes and mission details. “Oh-eleven-twenty-three, equipment malfunction that resulted in a blow to your chest, sending you flying across the back of a Humvee into a building, the resulting collision possibly offering warning to the natives that unfriendlies were in the area. You made up the loss of those approximate three minutes by scrambling, still managing to detonate the explosive on schedule, hence allowing the rest of the team to complete their mission unencumbered by said incident.”
