Page 6 of Fighting For You
For a split second before I got in, I’d considered sitting in the back and pretending he was my chauffeur. Would’ve been kind of fun, except we did have a little work to do, andit wouldn’t be great for our cover once we arrived at the resort.
We’d e-mailed a handful of times with plans, less out of a desire for efficiency and more for the sake of avoiding any additional face-to-face time before we couldn’t avoid it any longer.
I couldn’t speak for him, but I assumed we were on the same page. That was likely folly, but what else could I do? Saunter into his office, thump out a cheery knock on his door, and say, “Hey, Beast, can I sit and chat with you about our fun weekend plans?”
Not likely.
The last time we’d had a congenial chat had been somewhere around ten years ago. Maybe closer to nine, because our friendship didn’t shift until about the time I got engaged to my ex. It was like all of a sudden, I became this off-limits person and he wouldn’t be seen talking with me unless we were in a group.
I couldn’t think of a single time we’d spoken kindly to each other in the last five years. We’d cooperated on missions locally when needed, but there’d always been buffers with other Saint staff.
Locked in a small moving box with no music and certainly no friendly catch-up on the horizon, I questioned the sanity of the assignment on and off between songs streaming into my earbud. I kept one ear free just in case, but as a decently intelligent person, I’d planned ahead for the verbal drought of the ride.
The drive took an hour and a half one way, and we had less than twenty minutes left. Some of this we did have to actually speak about, and so, I mentally hyped myself into a place of noncombative assertiveness and began.
“We need to run down our plan. We both have thechecklists of things to review, and we can take care of some of those individually after check-in, but then we’ll hit our dinner reservation at seven.”
His hands didn’t move or flex on the steering wheel. His chin didn’t dip down like Tristan’s would’ve, nor did he respond with words like Bruce or Adam or Kenny or literally anyone else. Even Stone likely would’ve given me a visual hint he was listening.
But I’d pep-talked myself into oblivion last night. If I’d been in a movie, it would’ve been a montage of an athlete psyching herself up through lifting heavy and running stairs and fist-pumping at the top of a mountain. Granted, I did none of that save a solid run before dusk, butmentallyI’d “Eye of the Tiger’d” my way to bed knowing I could handle anything Jude The Beast Rawlins threw at me.
Even deafening silence.
There’s no way he hadn’t heard me. With nothing elsetohear, he had to be tracking everything I was, too. I may not’ve liked the guy, but I had no issues with him professionally save the small failure to communicate. Still, I didn’t doubt he’d come prepared, and that was the only thing saving my sanity at this point.
“I figure we check in together, make a show of things, then we’ll be seen at dinner. We’ll be able to look into the property under the guise of touring around together, but again, I think we can get away with the solo tasks we outlined earlier this week.”
Aaaaaand nothing.
Despite his refusal to acknowledge anything so far, I continued. I was nothing if not persistent, and eventually, the fact that responding to one’s coworker was the very least one could do when on assignment with them would penetrate his thick skull.
“Cookie said Jenna Halter’s biggest concern is room access, so obviously staying in the same suite she’ll have will give us that angle, but I’d like to expose floor access points. We’ll do the usual security review tonight and double check at zero-two.”
He might not need the refresher, but I preferred to verbally review the plan. It was how team leaders did it in the EMU and we’d both come from there, so this should be no surprise to him. It was how I ran ops when I did them, even still, and I figured it was a common language we spoke.
But silly me assuming he’d deign to speak.
I tapped through a few more pages of our op plan and did my best to ignore the frustration pumping through me. It buzzed in the pads of my fingers, making me feel electrified with irritation by the time he parked the car outside the sprawling, gorgeous mountain resort.
Back at home in Silverton, Silver Ridge Resort was truly beautiful, but it still had a cozy feeling thanks to the historic lodge located right next to the newer, fancier hotel. An hour and a half southeast from Silver Ridge sat Snowberry Mountain and Snowberry Resort. Silverton had become a destination for A-listers of all types—that’s how we at Saint Security had so much business and were ever-growing—but Snowberry? Snowberry was similar to the fanciest resorts in Utah, like Sundance or Deer Valley. And now, we were about to recon this place to make sure it was safe for Jenna Halter.
“It’s really pretty,” I said, momentarily forgetting I spoke to a brick wall. The whole drive had been a parade of Utah’s glorious fall colors, from gold to the pinky-oranges and deepening into burnished reds. But I’d appreciated none of it until right now with the wind rustling in the chilly autumn air in this tucked away place.
Astoundingly, this earned a grunt.
“Oh, so you’re not ignoring me anymore?”
His dark head turned slowly—a little creepily, if we’re being honest—and panned toward me until he stopped, his unsmiling face pinned to me.
“I was never ignoring you. I’m on board. You can calm down.”
“I can calm—” I snapped my mouth shut and clenched every muscle in my body in search of the self-control I’d convinced myself I had last night and this morning.
Has anyone in the history of forever actually calmed down when someone says they should calm down?
“Thank you so much for the helpful commentary. I’m so glad you’re on board with the job we were assigned to and are being paid to do.” And with that, I got out before I started snarling.
Good grief, he made me want to literally scream. Nothing sent me into an unnecessary rage like his smug, rude responses.
