Page 63 of Under Pressure

Nancy rested her head in her hand and nodded.

They’d never get anywhere at this rate. “Fine, we’ll take a vote then. Who’s for breaking them up?” Don raised his hand.

He was the only one to raise his hand.

“And who’s for keeping our noses out of it?” Nancy asked.

All the women raised their hands.

Walt and Harry did nothing.

Polly turned on Walt. “You’re not helping.” She looked at Harry. “You have to vote.”

Walt shook his head. “Everyone grieves differently. Maybe this is what he needs to do.”

A well of gratitude for his friend threatened to overtake Don. The women were either glaring—Nancy and Polly, or lookingworried—Winnie and Rosa. Well, that was that. He stepped forward and placed his palms on the long table, letting the edge dig into his palms. “Either help me or leave,” he said, careful not to let the words sound too harsh. He loved these gals like they were family, but he had a mission to complete.

A small gasping sob escaped Rosa.

Nancy stood. “I don’t want to leave, Don. We have your best interest at heart. But if this is what you want, then . . .”

She helped Rosa, who was softly crying now, stand. They walked out.

Winnie held her chin up as she walked around the table, but it was quivering. “This is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.” She followed after Nancy and Rosa.

Polly stood next and stared down at the table, red lips pursed. “We care enough to leave,” she said like it was an explanation, then walked out as well.

An ache formed in Don’s chest as he watched them leave. He hadn’t wanted them to leave, he just realized, but he’d forced the issue, and now his team—his biggest support system had just walked out the door. Regret stabbed at his insides, but he had work to do.

With one last glance in his direction, Nancy pulled the door closed behind them. It felt so final. Like the lid on Amelia’s coffin closing. He shook off the morbid thought. They’d forgive him. Those gals always had his back, through thick and thin. If he really needed them, they’d always be there.

“Now you’ve done it,” Harry said.

“I hope you know what you’re doing.” Walt leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Are you here to help or what?” Don asked.

“Help, of course,” Harry said.

Don swallowed the thick lump in his throat—it was time to make things happen. “Here’s the plan . . .”

12

Chapter 12

Sean

Sean beat the SEALs to his building by a solid ten minutes even though he’d stopped for emotionally cleansing donuts. In those ten minutes, he cleared the outside of his business of anything that might fly away and took a dozen confections down to six. It was almost enough sugary goodness to keep him from overthinking. Almost. Thankfully his thoughts were too jumbled to focus on any one thing for too long. Mostly just images of Blue, of the way her big indigo eyes stared right through him. He set to work closing the storm shutters, against a gentle breeze that lifted his hair off his brow and that would probably be picking up to something stronger than a caress soon.

“What’s wrong with you?” Gray asked, coming up on his side—Wolfe behind him. “Your face looks like a cloudy weekend and the hurricane hasn’t even hit yet.”

Before he could turn around, big, dark arms wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his sides.

“What are you doing?” Sean asked Knox.

“Giving you and your sad face a hug.”

“It’s not my sad face you’re hugging.”

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