Jameson (In the Company of Snipers #22) - Irish Winters Page 0,85
in his impatience, Alex rolled his shoulder in yet another useless attempt to get his latest migraine to back off. One of these days, he’d have to succumb to Kelsey’s plea for him to see her chiropractor. But not now.
Staring at his old man, he lifted his cell, thumb-dialed the agent who lived closest to him, and put the phone to his ear.
“Well, hey!” China Carson, Maverick’s wife, answered brightly. “How’s that brand-new little baby boy of yours? Kiri’s dying to meet him. I am, too.”
“He’s good. I need a favor, and I’m sorry I’m calling when Maverick’s running an op for me but—”
“Is Kelsey all right? What do you need, Alex? Tell me. I’m five minutes away. Kiri and I can be there in three.”
Alex swallowed hard. “Kelsey’s fine, but something came up, and I have to leave. I don’t want her alone.”
“On my way,” China said as she disconnected the call.
“Are we good?” Mel asked, his tone rife with concern.
“No,” Alex snapped. “We’re not good, and if you’re lying to me this time, I’m through.”
“I’m not.”
“Then prove it!”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jameson was thrilled to be on the ground in Boston, hopefully before Maddie’s flight touched down. The express flight had made good time, landed five minutes earlier than the flight that left just prior to this one. Maddie hadn’t been on either, and he hoped that meant he and his buddies had gotten ahead of the shitstorm headed her way.
With no bags to claim, he, Eric, and Harley traversed the concourse at Logan International quickly. Eric had clapped a hand onto Jameson’s shoulder once they’d cleared the Jetway, ensuring he wouldn’t need his cane to maneuver the crowds. He kept it collapsed and tucked under one arm. From out of nowhere, Harley acquired a decent set of dark glasses for him. Round with wire frames. Lightweight. Almost perfect.
Jameson felt like himself again. He’d dressed in TEAM black today, hoped Harley and Eric had, too. The second the express flight landed, that familiar spike of adrenaline before combat hit his bloodstream and amped up his senses. He was a SEAL again, two brothers at his side. This was who he was. This, he could do.
Once outside the airport’s front entry, Jameson pointed his cane at the sidewalk, letting it extend to full length. The sounds of the busy metropolitan city wrapped around him. Harried passengers rushed by, seagulls screeched overhead, and a far-off train horn blared. The deep blast of a tugboat bellowed from nearby Boston Harbor. He lifted his head and his nostrils flared, scenting the briny Atlantic to the East, the bittersweet aromas of coffee, chocolate, and cinnamon from the barista just inside the terminal behind him, and the greasy call of fresh fish and chips on the air. The stringent sting of an over-indulgent splash of someone’s aftershave. Cotton candy and popcorn.
His stomach growled. The last time he’d eaten was earlier, with Maddie. She’d saved some cinnamon rolls for him, then rewarmed them in the microwave. He’d thought then how adorably sweet she was to think of him. But now he worried what lay beneath all that sweetness.
That she’d struck out on her own declared she might just own a set of brass balls beneath that gentle demeanor. Might also mean she was still trying to prove herself to her father. And to herself. While her motivations mattered, it bothered Jameson more that she’d ditched him. It was bad enough she hadn’t trusted Eric and Harley to let them in on her plan. But he’d assumed Maddie’s declaration of love automatically entailed trust and honest communication with him.
Instead, she’d betrayed him, as well as her teammates. Bottom line: teams didn’t work without the skillsets of trust and communication. Team members coordinated ideas and plans, everything they did, said, or thought. They revolved around each other. Trusted each other. Had to. There was no ‘I’ in team for a time-proven reason. The lone wolf was as much a menace to successful missions as the predatory object of those missions. Maddie had a lot to learn.
Eric had been on his cell the moment they’d landed, talking with Mother, aka Mom, while still aboard the express out of Reagan to Logan Airport. She’d supplied an address, although she hadn’t been sure Lucy Delaney would be there. With time as short as it was, that was where they were headed now.
Eric waved down a cab. As he climbed inside, Jameson collapsed his cane, then spent the short trip keeping his ears open.