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thought with a brief stab of envy. Doyle kept his addiction under control, even if he’d been expelled from his military career because of it. He’d never been anything but sober on duty.
    Off duty? Entirely different story.
    Whether it was drugs, a stern mind-set, or some kind of archaic upper-crust English thing about viewing everyone else as subhuman animals, on the surface Doyle didn’t seem remotely concerned over killing.
    If it was the drugs, Miller was going to corner Doyle and demand a share of his own.
    “But—”
    “But nothing , Hsiung. You’re working with Miller—this one-sided grudge isn’t relevant. You put it aside, understand?”
    Hsiung shot Miller a razor-edged glare, biting her lip as she sucked down breath. “Fine,” she hissed at Lewis. “I’m putting it aside.”
    Lewis nodded once, sharply. “Good. That’s the end of it. Miller! Your team ready to move?”
    He leaned back, grimacing. “It ain’t even three in the morning .”
    “This isn’t a football game—no time-outs. You ready?”
    “The StratDevCo Rats said their boat’s getting in at five with the device, then it’s taking us over to Manhattan. Unless you think we can swim across the river, we’re cooling our heels until it gets here.”
    “And here I thought you were some kind of bad-ass spec-ops ninja. Hurry it up, Miller, the second that boat’s here, I want you across the river.”
    Miller nodded sharply. “Yes, sir. Understood.”
    Smirking as he shook his head, Lewis turned and left the room, leaving Hsiung standing by herself with a sour expression.
    After a few more moments’ sulking, she marched over and slumped down into a free chair, arms folded. “I should be doing your job,” she announced.
    Warily, Miller looked up. He felt the rest of the team’s eyes on him.
    Hsiung continued to glare.
    “Okay,” he answered her.
    “ Okay? ” she hissed.
    Du Trieux cleared her throat. “What’s your problem with him, anyway?”
    Hsiung shook her head as if the answer was obvious. “You don’t know? ”
    “You want my job, fine, whatever,” Miller said. “Career goals, I get it. But do you think I’m incompetent?”
    Her eyes turned acid. The obvious response, the one he’d steeled himself against—that he was incompetent—didn’t arrive. Instead she grit her teeth, and snapped, “You didn’t earn it.”
    “How you figure that?”
    “You walked into close protection for Gray with your pretty-boy face, then you took Cobalt-2. It all got fucking handed to you. Some of us”—she stabbed a finger into her chest—“put in the work and got fuck-all, because of you. That’s my problem with you.”
    Doyle grinned. “You think he has a pretty face?”
    Hsiung shook her head with a sneer.
    Miller blinked, dumbfounded. “I... I’m sorry.”
    She was right. He had been handed things. Lewis seemed to have a soft spot for him, and after Miller had gotten along so well with Gray’s children, it was hard not to have opportunities fall into his lap.
    And here he was, underqualified and overpromoted into running an operation he’d never been trained for. Of course, neither had she. None of Cobalt were drawn from special forces. Hsiung’s pedigree was strictly in private security and training. The closest the team had to black ops specialists were Doyle, with his ended-before-it-began military career, and du Trieux’s adventures in liberating the Middle East.
    Miller looked back at Hsiung as she angrily shuffled her arms across her chest, guilt gnawing at him. “Hsiung?” he said.
    “ What? ”
    “Thanks for helping us out. We could use someone like you on Cobalt-2.”
    There wasn’t much less hate in her gaze, but the fire cooled, a little. She raised an eyebrow. “Flattery? Really? You think I can be swayed that easily?”
    Miller shrugged. “It was worth a shot.”
    Hsiung rolled her eyes.
    Sensing the worst had passed, Miller pushed the loader, empty drum magazines, and boxed ammunition across