Page 34 of Stolen Faith
“Wait. Am I supposed to be the hero in your movie?” Rowan asked.
Brennon laughed. “You took on five guys after protecting my unconscious ass with a couch. It sure as shit isn’t me.”
“No one is going anywhere,” Izabel said. “And we certainly aren’t splitting up.” She nodded to the camera. “This thing is here for a reason, and the only reason I can think of is a proof-of-life video.”
Rowan eyed the camera, then nodded.
“But I wish they would hurry up and record their little video for my parents, make their demands, so we can get out of here.”
Brennon couldn’t help but notice that Izabel didn’t seem as confident about their being ransomed as she had earlier, despite her words.
“I hope it’s over soon.” Izabel shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “If for no other reason than the boning in this dress is killing me.”
“Starting to feel guilty about not stripping that off like you asked,” Brennon said, trying to lighten the mood. Their far too brief interlude in Izabel’s condo felt like years ago. Under normal circumstances, he probably would have already replayed that bliss over in his mind about a thousand times.
As the three of them sat here, he realized how close he felt to them, despite the fact they knew practically nothing about each other.
“Favorite color?” he asked.
Rowan gave him a confused look, but Izabel took the question in stride.
“Red. Because I look fucking awesome in it.” She tossed her head dramatically, then eyed her dress and grimaced.
Brennon laughed. “I bet you do. Rowan?”
Rowan shook his head, and Brennon wondered if Night Stalkers even thought about stupid shit like that.
“Orange,” Rowan replied, taking Brennon by surprise.
“Really? I would have pictured you as a navy-blue guy. Or maybe even black, given your occupation.”
Izabel leaned forward slightly. “Why orange?”
Rowan shifted, leaning more heavily against the wall at his back, and Brennon saw the tight lines by the other man’s mouth. “I was out on a mission a few years back in Syria. Shit went sideways and there was a moment when I honestly thought I wasn’t going to make it home. We had acquired our target, but we took heavy fire during takeoff. My bird’s tail boom was almost gone.”
“What happened?” Brennon was a visual person, his mind playing Rowan’s words out like a movie.
“Do you know what happens when a helo has no rotor?” Rowan scowled as if he really wasn’t sure of the answer.
“No,” Izabel said. “That’s not common knowledge.”
“Yes,” Brennon countered. He mockingly shook his head at Izabel. “How do you not know that?”
Izabel stared at him, then looked at Rowan. “He knows weird stuff.”
Rowan smiled and continued. “The helicopter will spin.” Rowan rolled his head on his shoulders, demonstrating. “Spin in a circle.”
Brennon pictured an out-of-control, spinning helicopter spiraling toward the hard ground.
“Did you crash?” Izabel asked.
Rowan frowned. “Crash? No. I don’t crash.” There was pride in his words.
“How do you fly a helicopter that’s spinning around?” Izabel’s eyes were bright with intelligent curiosity.
“I hauled ass,” Rowan said simply. “If you get going fast enough, you don’t need the rotor.”
Brennon pictured Rowan, helmet on, face grim, flipping switches and pulling levers.