the jet landed, Dave could co-pilot Ted back down to Hanscom Air Force Base, where the prince would be extra safe.
It was an inspired idea, but the admiral had given him a very hard no.
Rio wasn’t done, but he hadn’t gotten out more than a “How about—” before the admiral cut him off.
“Call me when the jet lands,” he said, abruptly ending the call.
Now, a full hour later, one of the phones stuck in the center console’s cup holders made a swooshing sound—announcing an incoming text message. Maybe the admiral had changed his mind, but when Rio reached for the phone, he realized it was Dave’s personal cell.
The incoming text showed up on the screen.
Made you miss me, didn’t I?
It was from H-less Jon, that heartless sonofabitch. It was intentional—his failure to respond to Dave’s many, many texts before now.
Dave was still sleeping hard as a second text came in, also short-and-sweet enough to show up on his lockscreen: I’m outside your apt. Lemme in.
Seriously...?!
“Yo, Dave. Your loser ex finally texted.” Rio held out the phone as Dave’s eyes opened.
“He’s okay? Oh, thank God.” Dave grabbed his phone, but then, as he read the two messages, his face tightened.
“You can do so much better,” Rio said. “Because that shit? Is bullshit.”
Dave was already nodding his agreement, but his eyes were sad. “So, you think it should be Fuck you or Fuck off...?” he asked, already typing in the identical first word of his impending response.
Rio didn’t need to think hard about it. “Off,” he declared. “Off is a shrug. Whatever, bro.”
“I kinda don’t call him bro,” Dave pointed out.
“Oops.” Rio laughed at himself. “Sorry, right. Still, you is a little too personal. Too wounded. He’ll know he got under your skin.”
Dave’s smile was forced. “Yeah, well, that’s a given.” His phone whooshed as he sent the text. “I’m glad he’s okay, I am, but...”
“Damn.” Rio finished his sentence for him.
“Yeah.” He very deliberately turned his phone off and stashed it in the glove compartment. “Conversation over, I wish him the best.”
“You’re a better man than me, my friend. I’m over here wishing he lets one rip during an important meeting with his boss and is forever after known as Air-Biscuit Jon. In fact, that’s what I’m calling him from now on, so you better not patch things up.”
Now Dave’s smile was more genuine. “Understood.” He paused, then added, “Thanks for the moral support.”
“Any time,” Rio said, and as they settled back in to wait, he kicked the heat up a little higher, wondering if—wherever they were—Thomas and Tasha were managing to stay warm.
Chapter Eighteen
Thomas was sitting there, his eyes unfocused, looking shell-shocked as hell, so Tasha had mercy on him. She was feeling lightheaded herself, having just bared her soul to him. And a large part of her wanted to stop time right here and now, so she could live forever in this moment of hopeful maybe.
She picked up her book and stood. “I think it’s time for me to lock myself into the Hall of Mirrors, so you can get some sleep. I know you want to get out to the extraction point at dawn, and that’s coming at us, fast.”
He looked up at her then. “I didn’t know,” he said. “About any of that. I mean, I knew things were terrible with Sharon, I just didn’t know you were... I mean, you were a kid, so the whole playing-princess Will you marry me thing was just... you being a kid. It was... cute. I thought. And I knew when you were a teenager, you still had a crush on me, but Tash, I’m so much older than you.”
Tasha sat back down, unwilling to stop him if he truly did want to keep talking. “Twelve years isn’t so much—”
“It sure as shit was when you were twelve and I was twenty-four.”
“Yeah, but I’m not twelve anymore,” she pointed out. “You know, Jake is more than twenty years older than Zoe.”
“I’m familiar with the fact that Admiral Robinson’s second wife is significantly younger than he is, yes.”
“Ooh,” she said. “So judge-y. Not a good look for you. He was widowed, you do know that, right? It’s not like he ditched his old wife to run off with the hot scientist babe who helped him save the world.”
“Their age difference raises eyebrows up the chain of command and in the Pentagon and... You’re the one who thinks I’m perfect,” he countered. “I know I’m not.”