Then he reaches into the tool bag and takes out a bottle of Johnny Walker Black.“Pour me a few fingers, and feel free to pour for yourself too.” H... pours about 3 fingers of Johnny into the cups and hands one to me.“Sir, since I’m your bartender now, I gotta ask, what the hell? You never drink when we’re underway, especially when you’re scheduled for night ops.”“Allyson was killed in an accident. I’m flying out on the next COD.” I slam back the drink and feel it burn down my throat, grateful. I gripped his hand. I always have respected a man with a solid grip and Austin had just that. He smirked at me before taking his seat again, nodding to the brown leather chair set out for me. The soft chair seemed out of place in the sterile office, white walls with just a few photos and florescent lights. I threw my satchel down next to the chair before looking back to the pile. ‘Okay, so who am I this time?’ I replied. ‘Max, why so short?’ He replied. ‘Look, Austin. Don’t spread more shit.. More

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