The Last Roman (The Praetorian Series - Book I)

  ***

  The multiplex was eerily silent when I returned to the common area. Everyone, save McDougal, had gathered in the mess area and was in the midst of socializing and chow. Noticing my approach, they all stopped what they were doing mid motion and turned to look at me. Santino had a glop of noodles hanging from his mouth, while Bordeaux had paused as he sipped a steaming drink.

  I stopped in front of their table, hands on my hips, and looked each man in the eye. Each wore a passive expression and for a few moments, the five of us did nothing but stare at each other before, all of a sudden, the four men at the table burst out in playful laughter. In the midst of their laughter, I couldn’t help but noticed Wang pass a few Euros to Vincent.

  “Something I should know, gentlemen?”

  Santino was the first to stop laughing, but he had to catch his breath before explaining the situation.

  “Jake, man, it’s nothing personal, but before you got here, all of us, including Little Miss Strauss,” he said the name, emphasizing it in a haughty and disrespectful manner, “had lunch. Chit-chatting. She told us how she had just broken up with some longtime boyfriend of hers or something because he’d cheated on her when her time in the service kept them apart. Sad, right? Well, here’s the funny part. She said she’d kill the next guy she saw that even remotely pissed her off. I guess it doesn’t help that you kinda look like how she described him. Tall, wavy brown hair, broad shoulders, dashing good looks, whatever, as soon as I saw you I knew there would be trouble.”

  I continued to stare at him stoically.

  “Vinnie over there won the bet.”

  I glanced over at the aging priest with narrow eyes. He simply smiled, raised his fork in a salute, and continued to eat.

  “He said she’d throw a punch. I said she’d knee you in the balls, and the boxing twins over there thought she’d go easy on you, but I knew you’d do something stupid to get her all worked up. So what happened? Strike out swinging?”

  My response was delayed as the group noticed our female comrade exit the armory and head directly toward another set of doors, opposite the ones she emerged. She spared a single, distant look in our direction, glowering.

  “Didn’t even make it to the on-deck circle,” I reported as we all watched her leave.

  Santino stood up, placing a hand sympathetically on my shoulder while some of the other guys snickered at me.

  “Don’t worry, my friend. Maybe it’s still pre-season.”