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In the silence that greeted his words, he did look up to see Charlie at his side, exchange silent signals with Ian, at his back. Well, this was what they did. They stood at one another’s side and had one another’s back. That had been the rule back when they were in the Navy, and it hadn’t changed now that they were technically civilians. So he wasn’t too surprised when Charlie replied, “Negative. Solo side trips are not a good idea when we don’t have a sit rep on possible pursuit.”
“Yeah. Arturo could have sent some of his men after us. We sped off in a car—it wouldn’t be impossible to track us, so we’re going to have to stay alert and play it safe. Meaning that if you need a breather, you won’t be getting it alone. I’ll go with you.” Ian’s tone made it clear this wasn’t an offer or a suggestion—it was a statement of fact.
Eric barely registered Charlie muttering something and heading back to the motel, leaving him and Ian alone. “Go where?” he scorned. “I wasn’t exactly planning on hitting a bar or restaurant. Not really dressed for it, either.” To be fair, hewasstill dressed in a nice suit—but it wasn’t exactly looking its best after getting into a gunfight and then a car wreck. Plus, Rhianne had bled on it some when he’d thrown over his shoulder so they could make it to the getaway car. It was a dark suit, so in dim lighting it would probably still pass muster, but only if no one looked at it too closely.
“Funny you should mention going to a restaurant…” With that cryptic comment, Ian steered him across the road to where a food truck had pulled up the sidewalk with a few customers milling around.
About to protest that he wasn’t hungry, Eric caught the spicy aromas of grilling meat and melted cheese, and his stomach rumbled.
Ian laughed. “Yeah. Charlie and I were just here and picked up a couple of tacos to go. I could use a beer, though.” He signaled to a cook visible at one of the van’s side windows, holding out a big enough bill to jump the line waiting at the front.
“I don’t think I could eat,” Eric admitted.
“Which is why I’m getting us soup.” Ian, the parent of a teenage son who could be as uncommunicative and defensive as Eric felt right then, was implacable.
A minute later, Eric found himself sitting on a nearby bench, a container of red chili soup in his hand.
“Tell me what happened just now back at the motel with you and Rhianne.”
“Nothing.”
Ian’s sucked-in breath told Eric he wouldn’t be fobbed off.
“Look, the mission went to shit, and tempers got a little high.”
“And that’s it?” Ian asked, sounding skeptical.
Eric shrugged. “Sure. Happens all the time.”
“But not to you,” Ian argued.
“Missions going to shit? Thatabsolutelyhappens to me. Have you forgotten Beirut?”
Ian still refused to be deterred. “I’m not talking about the mission—I’m talking aboutyou.I’ve never seen you this rattled. It’s more than a mission going wrong. And I know you’re worried about the girls being auctioned, but it’s more than that, too, isn’t it? Is it Rhianne? Did something happen there?”
Ugh.Ian had always been like a dog with a bone when it came to getting to the bottom of things, but since he’d fallen in love with a high school teacher who’d gotten him in touch with his feelings and in the habit of communicating them, he’d gone and gottenperceptive.The bastard.
“If you must know, we got too into the cover story and slept together. That’s all.”
“That’sall?” Ian repeated, sounding unconvinced. He pointed his spoon at Eric’s hands, which were clutching tight to his unopened container of soup…and trembling. “You haven’t quit shaking since you threw Rhianne into the car at the compound. So you and Rhianne… Whatever happened there, I can tell that it was more than just a hookup. So what was it?”
Eric sighed. “Okay, so maybe we had something—for a little while. Intense chemistry, mission adrenaline, whatever. I thought that maybe it could be something more, but as tonight showed, that option was never really on the table at all.” Eric tried to flick the lid off his Styrofoam soup container but couldn’t make his fingers work enough.
“Here.” Ian took the bowl from him, opened it, and handed it back. “You should eat something. Drink something even if you can’t work a spoon.” He mimed tipping the soup into his mouth, then passed him one of the bottles of water he’d gotten along with their food.
He waited, arms folded, until Eric took a sip of water. Finding he was parched, Eric drained the bottle in two long swallows and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.
“I got paper napkins.” Ian half-smiled. He unscrewed the top off one of the small bottles of beer he must have gotten too. Eric hadn’t paid attention. He accepted the drink and took a mouthful.
“Seriously, food.” Ian nodded at Eric’s untouched soup.
Eric took a gulp just to shut him up.
“Listen, bro, I know about intense chemistry and emotions running high because of being caught up in an op,” Ian started. “That’s what nearly made things fall apart with me and Sofia, remember?”
True. The petite teacher had gotten herself in the crosshairs of a cartel pushing laced marijuana in her high school. The ruthless Mexican gang had no qualms about getting rid of any and all opposition, including a brave, crusading teacher determined to do her utmost for her students—which included Ian’s son. The two of them had met and hit it off earlier, before the trouble began, but once the danger dialed up, Ian had stepped in to keep Sofia safe. In the end, the two of them had come together to become one of the strongest couples Eric had ever seen…but the road to happiness for the two of them had had more than its share of bumps along the way.
“So I know what can happen between people who feel that much about each other that quickly,” Ian continued.
