Free Operation Zulu Redemption: Collateral Damage - Part 1 by Ronie Kendig

tugged at her as they stepped into the cool evening, the thick smoke of the grill seeping out. Paolo’s friend stood with a bottled water in one hand, his other hand stuffed in his jeans’ pocket. His gray shirt accented his blue eyes and tanned complexion. Casual yet confident, he talked with her father, but his gaze strayed to Frankie. Took her in.
    He met her gaze once more before he nodded, apparently in response to something her father said. “That’s what I told the commander.”
    “Imagine that didn’t go over too well.” Her dad chuckled as he lifted the lid of the grill.
    Smoke plumed out, chasing the oxygen up over the roof.
    “No, sir.” He smiled and again, he looked at Frankie.
    Her stomach squirmed. She was used to attention. She got a lot of it, even in uniform. But it felt weird to get this in front of her brother and father.
    Paolo punched his shoulder. “Brent.” He leaned in and whispered something to his friend that made the guy pull up. Something, Frankie was sure, that had to do with killing off guys who stared at his little sister.
    “Ah, Francesca,” Daddy said as he turned and held out his arm to her. He never failed to put differences behind them. To show his unconditional love, even after they came close to ripping off each other’s heads. She wished she could do that, but she had too much of her grandmother’s fiery Italian temperament.
    Frankie slipped in and hugged her dad. “What masterpiece are we having this time?”
    “Steaks and shrimp.” He planted a kiss on her temple. “You’ve met Paolo’s buddy?”
    She faced the man, feeling a bit of warmth as she met his blue eyes. “No,” she said as he extended her hand. “I’m Frankie.”
    “Brent W—”
    “Hey, heard you were in Vegas,” Paolo said, shouldering into the greeting. “D’you win the jackpot?”
    “Ha. Right. Like I had time to hit the casinos, or would want to.” Frankie tucked some hair behind her ear.
    “Work?” Daddy asked as he sipped a glass of sweet tea.
    Frankie skirted a gaze around the three men, sensing a wave of tension lurking just beneath the surface. She wanted to share with them what happened. Nearly catching Trace. But she knew better. “Yeah.” Instead she shifted around, tucked a leg behind her, and eased into the oversized patio chair. “Where’s Mom?”
    “Resting,” Daddy said as he started for the house. “I’m going to grab a few things.”
    Leaving her alone with Paolo and Brent. She squinted against the remains of the sun settling over the fence behind Paolo and Brent, who’d already fallen into a conversation. Great. Home with four people and yet. . .alone.
    Frankie pushed out of the seat and went into the house. She squeezed between her dad and the cabinets to get a glass of ice water.
    “Was Vegas about Weston?” Daddy asked, not looking at her, but working on assembling the shrimp onto skewers.
    Glass almost at her lips, she hesitated. “Yeah.”
    “I take it you didn’t get what you were after.”
    Frankie took a sip then rested her hip against the granite countertop, watching as his nimble fingers worked the food and veggies. “He was there, but I wasn’t fast enough.”
    He shook his head, gave a soft snort, then lifted the tray of shrimp kebabs and started for the backyard without another word. Again, leaving her alone. She slumped back and thumped her heel against the cabinet. Why did he not care?
    “Hey.” Paolo entered, his dark hair shorn and his beard trimmed, but the intensity he’d always had remained in place. Especially right now. “What’d you do?”
    Frankie rolled her eyes. “I didn’t do anything.”
    “He’s mad.”
    “Then he shouldn’t have asked.”
    Wariness crept into her brother’s eyes. “Asked what?”
    “Why I was in Vegas.”
    Behind her, she heard the door but didn’t dare look. Didn’t want to face her dad’s disapproval again.
    “And why were you there?” He had that tone, the one he’d taken as oldest