He was seated at the middle of a long board table in a meeting room with DeLuca, Tuck, Evers, Schroder, and three of the DEA guys they’d been training with in Biloxi. They’d already been talking—well, Tuck, DeLuca and the DEA guys had been—about ongoing security issues along the Gulf Coast and the threat of Islamic jihadists smuggling across the border from Mexico. Tugging at the thighs of his pants, he tried stretching his legs out a bit to relieve the pressure in his lower back. “Bauer. Go grab us all some coffee,” DeLuca said. Clay looked at him. Yeah, his CO knew exactly what was happening and was giving him an out. He opened his mouth to argue, but he had nothing to add to the conversation thus far and getting up to walk around for a bit would definitely ease the ache in his spine. He took drink orders from everyone and tried not to scowl, then headed down to the lobby and stood in line at Starbucks. While he waited he texted Zoe. He was anxious to get back to her, and even more anxious for it to be nighttime so the others would leave and he’d get to be alone with her again.
