Page 8 of Dangerous Mission

When I look at the stranger again, he’s not angry, he’s blank.

Cold.

Like he was there and now he’s not. Totally checked out.

Intense, awkward silence stretches out around us. The only sound is rain hammering down on the tarmac.

Finally, Scout’s shoulders rise and fall before he tips his chin up a notch. “Thank you. Don’t ever do anyfuckingthing like that again.”

The tension eases enough for me to take a quick inhale. “Hopefully I’ll never have to, but you’re welcome.”

I drag my eyes away from the withering glare he’s giving me and focus on my brother. “Griff, we need to get you to a doctor.”

He slowly nods, surprising me. “This fucking earache is killing me.”

“Scout,” I call across the space between us, “Do you know where we can get medical care for him at this time of the night?”

“I can make some calls.”

Griff rubs the side of his neck as he looks at the upside down plane. “Thanks, feels like I’ve got an icepick in the side of my head. But first we need to deal with that. The pilot is okay, but shaken up badly, and one of our team is trapped in there.”

Scout has a strange look on his face when he asks, “Who is diving with your team?”

“Aria.” Griff hooks a thumb my way, then with a displeased sound, he motions toward the plane. “Brundage is the other diver. We’re going to have to cut him out. He’s not injured, but we’re going to have to move some metal to get his big ass free.”

Scout, whoever the hell he is, gives me one more cold, angry look before he walks away. “Let’s get this done.”

Chapter Four

Griffon Kane. Former Delta, current cause of my irate anger.

Motherfucker. Of course he’d have a girlfriend that looks like she does and acts like she does.

Lucky bastard.

Some assholes just have everything.

Some assholes like me get the fuck-stick our whole life.

For Christ sake, she jumped in a truck and put her damned self in harm’s way to save my sorry ass.

A stranger.

I can’t think about that now—shit needs to be done. People extracted. Medical help for Griff.

Sleep, for fuck sake.

God.

I need to lock myself in a dark room for a week.

When was the last time I slept?

Feels like years ago.

I rub the back of my neck, and try to ignore the weight of my bones. It’s a real bitch when the adrenaline wears off before you’re done with your work.

When I duck down and shove my head inside the plane, the rain sounds like jackhammers on the upturned belly.