Sunny, Misty, and Flynn were in a nearby trailer with Special Agent Lasky, studying security footage and suspect photos to see if any faces looked familiar. Hopefully by the time they hooked up again, this would all be over and Sunny’s temper would have cooled. Given her brother’s probable involvement, she had to be on edge.
It wasn’t sitting all that well for him either, and he’d never even met the guy.
Major McCabe shifted from boot to boot as he crouched beside him, joints cracking.
Wind whistling fast and colder up high, Wade shot a quick glance sideways, ice pellets stinging his face. “Knees aching, old man?”
“Always.” McCabe tweaked his binoculars, sweeping the side lot while Hugh Franco lay flat on his stomach with a rifle. “I know I’m too damn old to still be jumping out of airplanes, but, well, I’ll keep on until the day they haul me off on a litter.”
Franco kept his eye lined up on the scope. “If your knees hurt so bad from your ranger days, why didn’t you choose something else after OCS, fly a plane or even a desk?”
“I said it hurts,” McCabe answered fast. “I never said I could give it up.”
Below them, SWAT team members darted around the building, the front gates sealed closed. The power plant and grounds around it had been evacuated. Beyond the gate, however, the world carried on like normal, blessedly oblivious. At a harbor dock, a small fishing festival was under way. The FBI had decided the event was far enough away from the plant to continue safely, and too large to stop without creating a stampede.
Wade tweaked the focus on a news crew setting up cameras outside the main gate. “Then why aren’t you still a ranger? Why bother with the swimming and mountain climbing?”
“I guess that’s my story to tell.”
“Fair enough.” Wade scanned past the grid of scaffolding and wires surrounded by chain link fences. A K-9 cop jogged with his German shepherd toward a side entrance, but not with enough speed to cause alarm. The dog probably smelled the moose sausages and fish roasting at the bayside festival. How odd that just seeing the shaggy canine made him think of Sunny’s big mutt. Seemed as if his every thought these days rounded back to her. “Aren’t you going to ask me if I care about her?”
“Nope.” McCabe just grinned.
“Everyone else did after our public argument over the interphone.” He jerked a thumb at Franco. “Starting with this guy here.”
Amazing how they’d found time to jab at him while in the middle of ramping up to catch a bomber. But then this was their life. Standard ops.
Wade glanced at McCabe. “At least you know it’s none of your business.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said dryly, without missing a beat on his scan of the bay on the opposite side of the power plant. “I don’t need to ask because I’ve known you a long time. I’ve seen how low-key you’ve kept other relationships in the past. Even that babe Kammi, the one you actually dated for three months, didn’t get anywhere near this kind of reaction out of you. I can see straight up how far gone you are on Sunny Foster.”
The words struck a little too close to the nerve for his peace of mind, especially considering how soon he would ship out. He needed his full concentration for his Afghanistan deployment. He didn’t need attachments.
He didn’t need to spend every waking minute of every day worrying about what kind of trouble a fearless woman like Sunny was getting into. He didn’t need the mind-bending stress of worrying about her stepping on some kind of land mine—
Shit.
His mother was the one who’d stepped on a bomb. Not Sunny. And hello Dr. Freud, it was too creepy that he was mixing them up in his head.
Irritation grated his nerves much like how the ragged ice along the roof jabbed and poked, making him snap back. “What makes you such an expert on love? Last time I checked, you’re as bad as Franco, never dating a woman more than a week—long enough for a one-night stand.”
Silence settled on the rooftop thicker than a morning fog. McCabe was staring at him with a you’re-a-dumb-ass look. Franco still stared through the scope of his rifle. But his knuckles were stark white.
Damn.
Franco had been a serial dater since he’d lost his wife and kid. Razzing the guy about his relationship history was