“Look at you,” he said. “All dressed up. You come from a meeting or something?”

“Something,” I said.

He turned back to his circle before the word finished landing. “Boys, this is my daughter, Alex. She’s Navy. Does all the intel paperwork and coordination. Real brain work.”

The Recon shirt man stuck out his hand. “Logistics?” he asked. It was not disdain. It was reflex.

“Intelligence,” I said. “Special operations.”

He nodded like those were synonyms.

The man with the operator eyes stepped forward. He had a scar near his ear and a patience that made me like him on sight. “Commander Jacob Reins,” he said. “SEAL Team. Good to meet you, ma’am.”