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brotherhood of warrior monks that the Pope had tasked with finding his kidnapped flock of priests and children.
    Cal looked over at Travis, then back to Brandon. “Is this for real? Are you seriously telling me that the Pope has monks that shoot guns and take down bad guys?” He said it in jest, but no one laughed. “Come on, guys, that was just a little funny.”
    Zimmer didn’t even crack a smile. “And the part about jihadist soldiers running around in our backyard?”
    “We’ve been talking about that for years. I’m sure you get reports on this stuff every week. I told you before, it’s only a matter of time before they exploit our weaknesses along the border. And don’t even get me started about our border with Canada.”
    “Trust me, I know all about it. My concern is that this is something new. Travis checked with the CIA, and there wasn’t even a blip on their radar. If that’s the case, we have an obligation to at least check it out.”
    “You want me to go down there?” Cal asked, not surprised by the president’s coming request. He could see it on his face. Brandon’s mind was made up.
    “I do.”
    “When?”
    “As soon as you can.”
    Cal shrugged and turned to Diane. “Well, babe, it looks like our time in paradise just got cut short.”
     
     
     

Chapter 6
     
    Seacrest Beach, Florida
    4:14pm, March 13 th
     
     
    Cal didn’t say much on the way back to the house. Diane knew better than to pry. Like a lot of men, Cal liked to digest information before coming to a conclusion.
    She’d seen the reluctance on his face when the president leveled his request. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the president, the opposite was the case, but the analyst in her understood that at times Cal thought he knew better than his good friend Brandon. Not to say that wasn’t the case, but Diane might’ve been a little more subtle in her manners with the leader of the free world, even if he was a good friend.
    But that wasn’t Cal’s style. While she’d instantly seen his drive when they started dating, it wasn’t until they started working together that Diane saw the breadth of Cal’s personality. His men trusted him because of his confidence. To say it was cockiness would be naïve. Cal Stokes lived and breathed the battles he fought. It was part of who he was. If others didn’t like him, they could just pound sand.
    It was why men like the president came to Cal for help and guidance. He admitted when he was wrong, asked questions when he didn’t understand, and always passed the credit off to his men. She’d asked him once why he thought so many men trusted him, why they put their lives in his hands. He’d shrugged and said, “I guess it’s because I’m a Marine, and I’m not afraid to figure it out as I go.”
    And that was what he was doing now, even as he guided their rental car back to the beach house. His eyes scanned, but his mind was calculating. Diane wondered what he would say when he gathered his men.
     
    The house was empty when they arrived. After grabbing two Coronas from the fridge, Cal and Diane walked out onto the back porch. It led to steps that spilled out onto the white sands of their own private oasis. Cal heard the taunts before he saw them. They were playing eight on eight tag football, shirts versus skins.
    Cal stopped and took a sip of his beer. He watched as the two sides collided at the line, and then, despite the deep sand, the mountain who was Master Sergeant Willy Trent broke from the line, heading for the end zone. Jonas Layton was playing quarterback and stepped back to pass.
    Gaucho, a short latino with a deep tan and an eccentric dual braided beard, barreled toward him, somehow slipping through the offensive line. Jonas scrambled, heading toward the water, waiting for Trent to get open. And then he launched a perfect spiral that sailed downwind over the defenders’ heads, and was snatched out of the air by the the massive Marine.
    “Touchdown!” boomed