Page 23 of Bad Decisions

“Hey, I have to go, but I’ll call you when I can,” I promise.

“Okay. Bye,” she chokes out before the call disconnects.

I climb the cargo plane’s stairs two at a time, my pack slung over my shoulder. Parker, Ben, and I are still stowing our gear when the engine kicks in. We’re just taking our seats when, with a jolt, we start to move. From the moment Tim briefed us in the office to now, we’ve barely had time to think. It’s a four-hour flight to our destination, and most of that time will be spent planning the mission.

Capital Security predominantly handles private security and protection for wealthy and high-profile clients. But occasionally, like today, we’re asked to run special operations for the government. The kind of work that nobody talks about and that the countries we go to don’t even know we’re there. Sure, there’s risk involved, but considering what I was doing in some of the most dangerous places on earth, this is still a nice change of pace.

Buckling my seat belt, I draw in a deep breath and drop my head back against the headrest, closing my eyes. The loud drone of the engines as we taxi down the runway can’t even drown out the thoughts tumbling around.

I’m on my way to South America. Where? I haven’t been told yet.

All I know for sure is that tonight I should have been packing my bags to catch a commercial flight to go see Jewel tomorrow. Some days life sucks, and today is one of them.

“Wake up,” Ben says, dropping into the seat facing Parker and me.

“Fuck off,” Parker grumbles, and we both know he doesn’t mean it. I think he’s been seeing a woman and is obviously pissed that his plans have been changed too.

I scrub a hand across my face and stare at Ben. He’s a big unit, but he’s pretty enough to mask his true intentions in a room full of dignitaries. So, while we’re all considered equal partners in the company, when it comes to covert operations, Ben is our designated leader, and he’s damn good at it.

“Okay, so here’s what we’ve got.” He opens a map of Guatemala on the table between the three of us. At least I know which country now, and I focus my attention on the mission’s details as he explains every possible scenario over the next couple of hours.

It’s somewhere high over the Gulf on our way to Guatemala City when I’m next left to my own thoughts. I lean back in the chair, staring out the scratched cabin window at the dark night. My brain is buzzing with information and logistics, but sneaking in between it all is a beautiful brunette who is never far from my thoughts. This is probably the last chance I’ll have to think about her, and certainly the last opportunity to send her a text before switching to a burner cell. A necessity when we’re slipping undetected into countries where we have no legitimate business, even if it’s one that’s friendly with the United States.

Pulling my cell from a pocket, I go back to the unsent text and retype it.

It’s only when I’ve hit send on the message saying that I should be back in DC in about a week, and I’ve seen her response, that I turn off my cell.

The last four words she sent tattooed on my brain: I’ll see you soon.

Fuck, I hope so.

But right now, my sole focus has to be on the mission. I hope we’re not too late.

Chapter eleven

Jewel

My cell drops into my lap. Disappointment sits like a lead weight on my chest. The chasm between our separate lives has never felt so wide and unbreachable.

We promised to see each other again. But with no timeline, the connection was already stretching thin, fading like the light outside the window as the sun disappears below the horizon. Now the last thread tying us together has snapped.

Will isn’t coming tomorrow, and I want to cry. But I won’t. Because I understand there are far worse things that can happen than canceling a weekend trip to Brooklyn. I’ll let myself be disappointed, but I won’t shed a tear.

Snatching my cell back up, I fire off a text to Cara.

Me: He canceled.

Cara: WTF!!!!

Me: He said something important came up at work.

Cara: I’m on my way with alcohol and chocolate.

A smile eases the tension in my jaw. I love how my friend has the perfect response for every occasion.

A short while later, she’s at my door. A bottle of red in one hand, one of white in the other, and her arms stacked full of snacks. A large bag of my favorite dark chocolate Hershey’s Kisses is balancing precariously on top.

“Wow, did you clear out the corner store of snacks?” I joke, grabbing the Kisses before they end up at her feet.