4
The base commissary had delivered a stack of pizzas. Drake figured that if you ever wanted to know the location of every top-secret outfit on a base—and be welcomed into the compound every time—you just had to get a job as an on-base pizza delivery driver.
Drake had managed to stick close beside Nikita as well as snag three slices of fully-loaded pizza to go with his beer, more than sufficient solace for his battered ego. He’d been razzed more times than the sirens had called to Odysseus for the way he spoke—he was an Army sergeant with the speech befitting a West Point officer—so it was no big deal. Though he could have done without Nikita laughing at him.
Everyone was calling the guy J-dawg and he bristled just like a junkyard dog every time. If the guy would just chill, it would go
