Page 30 of Baby One Last Time
Bond pointed to the seats that could fully recline at the back of the plane. “Get some sleep. I’ll be back to check on you when we’re in the air.”
That was a little bossy, even for the resident medic. I almost argued just to be disagreeable. But everyone else seemed happy, maybe even a little giddy, to be getting underway with the next leg of Operation Peace and Resist, and it was a pain in the ass to always be the...well, the pain in the ass. Mai sat in the row closest to the reclining seats. Bond sat in the same row on the other side of the aisle.
“Good morning,” Mai said as I passed her.
“Hey,” I mumbled, then followed doctor’s orders, settling into one of the recliners at the back of the plane. I snapped the seatbelt over my lap and pushed back into a nearly flat position. It was so much better not to be upright. Fewer spots in front of my eyes, less bone-splitting pain in my head, lower likelihood I would upchuck the water that had been the only thing I could put in my stomach since I’d rolled out of bed.
I practiced my pranayama breathing and relaxed each muscle group in my body, one at a time. With my jaw slack and my eyes hidden behind my shades, I could watch the team while appearing to be asleep. Pathetically, the only person I watched was the one I wanted to slap. Then kiss. Then drag to the back of the plane and straddle.
He had turned sideways so he could talk with TJ, who had taken the spot across from him. My acting skills were vindicated when his sideways glance at me lingered for a couple of heartbeats. The look on his face in that unguarded moment gutted me. It reflected the deep gash in my own soul. But that couldn’t be right. He didn’t want me. He didn’t want us. He wanted me to trust him, but he wouldn’t share his secrets.
What did that say about his feelings for me? Had he, at any point in the past year of phenomenal teamwork and earth-shattering sex, loved me? And had I loved him? Was that why it was so fucking hard to let go?
My pulse kicked up a notch or ten. I closed my eyes for real to block the sight of him and returned to my yoga breaths. It didn’t matter what I suspected I might feel for him, because he didn’t return my affections. We’d never said the L-word, not even in the throes of passion, and we never would.
Someone stopped beside my seat, and I opened my eyes in anticipation of rescinding everything I’d just told myself. But instead of Mr. Tall, Dark, and Devastating, it was Bond with a needle in her hand.
“Hey Kessler,” she said gently. “Feeling any better?”
“It helps to lie down.”
“This will help even more. Roll up your sleeve.”
“I’m not sure adding IV drugs to the half-bottle of Macallan I drank is a great idea,” I said, but I obeyed her order.
“It’s vitamin B. Nothing hard-core.” She swabbed my arm with an alcohol wipe, then slid the needle into my skin and pulled it back out in a nanosecond, not even causing a sting. “So, you got sauced on some expensive stuff. Did you hook up with your new friend, Doppler’s bartender?”
“That falls strictly under need-to-know information,” I said, “otherwise known as none of your damn business.” I wasn’t going to tell anyone, not even my medical professional, about my night spent pathetically solo.
“Fine, but just so you know, IT and logistics are placing bets on whether he was your boy toy or you found someone else to keep you company, since you were a no-show for last night’s team dinner.”
“Tell them I had the bartender and another guy. A threesome. Everybody wins.”
Bond laughed. “Especially you, if that’s the case. All right, enough about your sex life. Get some rest, and I promise you’ll feel better by the time we land in Miami.”
“Ugh,” I grunted. “Does anyone really feel better when they land in Miami?” But she was right about needing more rest. Everything felt better when I closed my eyes.
I jolted awake,but knew immediately where I was: on a plane with Reindeer Team, on our way to shut down the rest of an illegal arms trading syndicate in Miami. I rubbed my eyes under my sunglasses.
“Good, you’re awake.” Mai sat across the aisle, her reclining chair in the upright position, and stared at me. Her face gave away nothing. Either she was already learning how to hide from me, or my hangover was still messing with my head. “I was worried my kick would wake you.”
I leaned forward until I was upright as well. “Why are you kicking me?”
“Because I’m pretty sure you deserve it.” Our voices were already too low to be heard by the rest of the team over the jet engines, but she dropped hers to a whisper. “Is there anything you want to tell me, because despite what the rest of the team suspects, I know damn well you didn’t sleep with that bartender or a pool boy or—what was the guy you were trying to pick up in Vegas last year?—a lounge lizard?”
I rubbed my temples. “Could you wait until I’m rehydrated to make snarky judgements about my taste in men?”
She reached into her backpack, pulled out a sports drink, and handed it to me. Her face remained blank, unreadable. Well, shewasa sniper. Steady hands, steel nerves, minimal emotions. I began to appreciate X’s genius in choosing Mai as a yin to my yang.
“Your questionable taste in men is none of my business,” she said.
“Thank you.”
“But if there’s anything at all that could affect HEAT or the team”—she leaned closer to me—“or especially my career, I’d appreciate a heads-up.”
“That seems fair.” I took another swig of the drink, feeling more like myself than I had since walking into the SCIF yesterday. “There is a situation. Well, there was. It’s over now.”
“I see. And when you say it’s over, do you mean it’s over for you, or is it over for the situation, as well?” She shifted her gaze in Derek’s direction.
