Omen Operation Read Free Page B

the other side of the field where Gabriel stood with her shoulders squared, a desert eagle clutched between her hands.
    “See! Better! Now let’s see if blondie’s as good with that as she is with an AR,” Porter said.
    They walked together toward the other targets. Brooklyn smiled, watching Gabriel adjust her stance. “How’s it going over here?”
    Gabriel sighed, one eye closed as she tilted her head, staring at the target. “Shitty. I feel off balance.”
    “Both eyes open,” Dawson said, standing a few feet away.
    “They always close one eye in the movies. I never understood why.” She turned to look at him, gaze traveling down where his arms were folded across his chest.
    “It’s more dramatic,” he answered with a shrug. “Now hurry up and shoot.”
    Pale pink lips curved up. “At breakfast, you said you wanted to be somewhere warm with someone pretty.” She focused on the vibrant color of his eyes, glacier blue like the syrup at the bottom of a snow cone. “Do you think I’m pretty?”
    Julian watched as he sat on a large log and tugged one of his ear plugs out so he could properly eavesdrop. Brooklyn took a seat next to him, and he smirked, eyes drifting back to where Dawson was currently put under the stress of a very tricky question from a very tricky girl.
    “I think you’re dangerous,” Dawson said quietly, almost too quiet for the rest of them to hear.
    Gabriel grinned, her gaze still wrapped around the smug expression Dawson wore. She lifted the gun with one hand. “I’m flattered.”
    She pulled the trigger, and Porter winced, covering his ears from the blast.
    “Damn.” Julian craned his neck to see the target at the base line of the trees now split down the middle. “Gabriel wins.”
    Whoever won in firearms had the privilege of picking dessert.
    Terry’s whistle was their queue to take a break. Hydrate. Stretch. Relax.
    The rest of the afternoon was spent doing endurance drills and combat simulations.
    Brooklyn was quick and ruthless when it came to hand to hand. She was always ready to engage, and her unpredictability gave her an upper hand in most cases.
    Julian was the first to spar with her. After she dodged two fast jabs and a roundhouse kick, she swiped his legs out from underneath him, pressing her foot down across his chest.
    “Down one,” she breathed, yelping when he knocked her back with his knee.
    He was quick to rise and twisted her arm back. He bent her forward until she hissed for him to release.
    “Up one,” Julian corrected. “Try to slow down.”
    Brooklyn nodded and stood, rubbing her index finger and thumb together before launching forward again. She slid down around his knees as Julian aimed another jab at her and knocked him to the ground, snatching his wrist and folding it up behind his back.
    “Down two,” Brooklyn said.
    It was Dawson and Porter after that. They switched partners, one right after the other until the score was tallied.
    “It’s a tie,” Gabriel said. “Porter and Brooklyn.”
    “Tiebreaker for the side dish?” Dawson asked.
    The sun was starting to set, and Terry’s whistle sounded from the dining hall.
    “No time, but I do want mashed potatoes tonight.” Porter shrugged, glancing at Brooklyn.
    Brooklyn grinned. “Good, me too.”
    “See? We don’t even need a tiebreaker,” Porter said, shoulder bumping into Brooklyn’s as he walked by. “She gets me.”
    Gabriel appeared at her side, cat eyes narrowed playfully from under her lashes.
    Brooklyn told her to be quiet before she had a chance to say anything.
    Julian glanced over his shoulder as they all trudged through the grass toward the dining hall. She followed his stare and found what he’d caught sight of, Dawson’s muscular frame slinking around Terry’s small, secluded lodge near the front of the grounds.
    “What’s he doing?” Julian mumbled. He linked his arm through Brooklyn’s as they walked.
    Brooklyn glanced over her shoulder again, watching closely.