Page 72 of Constantly Cotton
They were interrogating the two surviving suspects, both of them sullen and angry and tied to chairs in the kitchen with actual nylon cord from Henry’s car and not with zip-ties, which Jason didn’t like because they could be broken.
The suspects—both men in their thirties with dark hair and eyes and features as severe as Karina Schroeder’s had been—were giving them information, but doing it bitterly.
If Jason had to hear “Why should I tell you, you killed my boss!” one more time, he was going to pull out his Glock and clock them each behind the ear so he didn’t have to think about them for a while.
Finally, Henry Worrall gave him a little wave. “Hey, can I try?” he asked.
“Knock yourself out,” Jason muttered. He pulled out his weapon, still appalled that Rivers and Henry had launched themselves into this operation without small arms of their own, and handed it to Henry, who took it with the grace and assurance that told him soldiers didn’t forget.
“Better me knocking myself out than you knocking them on the heads,” Henry said frankly. “I mean, you seem like a decent guy and all, but you’re gonna kill them if you have to keep doing this.” He kept his voice raised so both the captives heard him, and Jason grunted affirmative.
It wasn’t true—at least hehopedit wasn’t true—but they didn’t know that, and it made sense to give them time with a guy dressed as a civilian who might not scream in their faces like Jason had been about to do.
He was exhausted.
If nothing else told him how much he’d needed time to recuperate, being ready to curl up in a little ball to fall asleep after the last two hours did. He resisted the temptation to look out into the sparkling waters of the little lake outside their cabin and beg his team for another month to stay there with Cotton, alone, making love and growing stronger, until Jason felt like he could do this again, could make hard decisions, could pull the trigger in more ways than one.
But he had a mess on his hands, and the one thing he’d promised his sister after that long-ago accident was that he’d take his responsibilities in the military seriously. He’d never let her down.
He needed to help clean up this mess.
“How’s the patient?” he asked Rivers, who was hanging out in the hallway, waiting to see if Cotton needed any help while apparently making three hundred phone calls to fix Jason’s life.
“She’s stable,” Jackson told him. “I talked to Burton, and he’s got medics coming up from Sacramento who can transport her back to the base. Apparently you people and your secret-agent bullshit think that’s a good idea.”
Jason nodded. “Mostly I don’t want her someplace I can’t watch to keep her safe,” he said, meaning it. “I’m a control freak that way.”
“I’ve noticed,” Jackson said dryly. “That doesn’t mean she doesn’t need some blood and some antibiotics and industrial-strength painkillers, although your boy managed an IV bag for fluids with some mild ones, which I find a little frightening. Apparently Lance has schooled him in everything but how illegal it is for him to give that kind of help without a license.”
Jason sucked air through his teeth. “Well, he will probably need to be broken of some habits before he goes into medical care as a vocation,” he said. “But if he can make her more comfortable before the medic chopper arrives, I’m grateful.”
“How’s your scumbags?” Rivers asked.
“Talking, but they’re being assholes about it,” Jason replied. “For instance, I know that they were going to kill me to get guns from Deavers, but I don’t know when or where they’re supposed to meet up. Your boy is trying to help me out there, so that’s nice.” Jason gave a glance over his shoulder and saw Henry involved in earnest conversation. Maybe he could do it, Jason thought. Well, good. Jason was not on his game today, and he could admit that.
“Well, lucky you,” Rivers said, “Karina’s husband caved when Ellery told him she was dead. Apparently she was the driving force behind their little crime spree, so he’s ready to go cry in prison now. I’ve got a time and a place tonight. Deavers is apparently going to be in Tahoe because you’re a lucky bastard. Now that Dietrich has a guard, Goldfarb would like to get Greta released so they can come here and debrief. I told Ellery to go for it. They should arrive a little before Burton does, so you’re doing okay.”
Jason nodded. “I am,” he said, “thanks to you.”
Rivers shrugged. “De nada.”
De nada. It meant “It was nothing.” But it was everything, and Jason knew that more than most people. And still, he was going to ask for more.
“If it was nothing,” he said bitterly, “you wouldn’t mind doing me one more little tiny favor, would you?”
Jackson met his eyes with compassion, but his words were harsh. “You’re going to make me break that boy’s heart, aren’t you?”
“No,” Jason said, watching Cotton, confident, kind, talking to Trina reassuringly and telling her she was going to be okay. God, he was gorgeous. Not just the curly dark hair and the enormous eyes with the cheekbones and the dimples and chin. His smile, his calm, his compassion, his humor—all of it was beautiful, and Jason swallowed hard, thinking he’d had that beautiful creature, that angel, in his bed, in hislife,for a blessed, blessed time.
“No?” Jackson asked, sounding hopeful.
“I’ll break his heart,” Jason said, dashing those hopes, he knew. “But I’d really appreciate it if you could take him home.”
“NO,” COTTONsaid after Jackson had told him Jason needed to talk to him.
Jason ignored who might be watching and cupped his cheek. “It’s time, Cotton.”
“But Trina—”
