“Who what?”
“Who has not answered or received his texts for over two days. His requests for contact with her seem... desperate.”
Fuck.
“I’ll know more by the time you land to refuel,” Yunho said. “And I’ll be in touch.”
“Thank you.”
Rhett unplugged Yin’s phone, pocketed it, and turned the laptop around just as King walked back in.
“How’s the leg?” Rhett asked him.
King groaned as a response as he lowered himself into his chair. Rhett caught a glimpse of King’s leg when his trouser leg rose up. Mottled skin, disfigured, and reducedmuscle mass, and he felt bad for making King suffer more than was necessary.
“I better get back to my seat,” Rhett said. He stood up and made his leave but stopped before he got too far. “Oh,” he said, nodding to King’s phone. “Don’t forget to wipe your call log.”
King smiled as Rhett turned and went back out to the seats, and amongst the silence were stoic faces and enough tension in the air to catch fire.
It was not good.
Rhett took his seat next to Jay. “What the hell happened in here?” he whispered.
“Words,” Jay replied, equally quiet. “Bisgaard had something to say to Yin. Giardello told him to shut it.”
Fuck.
Which means Giardello told Bisgaard what King had said. That Yunho was looking into Yin and Chen’s involvement. And Zihao. And how the hell they came to be in Milvus.
The last thing any of them needed was the two teams turning on each other.
Rhett could feel Sid watching him, waiting for shit to go south, waiting for Rhett to stand up, and Sid would be by his side in half a second.
Rhett heard Giardello hiss something, presumably at Bisgaard, and the tension amped up another notch. It was damn near combustible.
Jay spread his feet, as if ready to leap. His hands were fists on his thighs, his face downcast, but his eyes were on Rhett.
Ready. Waiting.
But then the intercom burst the bubble; the cockpit announced their descent, and the tension simmered a little.
When the plane landed, Rhett was first on his feet. “Alpha One with me,” he said.
Giardello seemed to agree because when they deplaned, he took his team to the other side of the bunker.
A bit of space would do them good.
But the rift in Rhett’s team was evident. Yin and Chen stood to one side, arms crossed, faces sullen, and the others... well, Echo was watching everything, Azrael was glowering in Bisgaard’s direction, and Sid was pacing.
“What the fuck’s going on?” Coyote asked, none too quietly.
“We don’t know,” Rhett answered. “I’m waiting on more information.”
“From HQ?” Sid asked. “I thought they?—”
“Not HQ.”
“Bisgaard said Yin had a phone,” Echo said, voice detached.