I snickered to myself and went for the orange cheese cube. Might that be cheddar? Who knew. They tasted much the same to me—and I loved cheese. Cheese you got from a real store.
“Anyway,” he said, clearing his throat. “Are you prepared for what’s next? It’s gonna be more than hugging your dad.”
I was as ready as I could be, I supposed. I mean, I knew there’d been a case opened to bring me home, but with the way our diplomatic relations had imploded in Afghanistan—and the fact that nobody had known where I was—everything had been at a standstill. And now…after I’d been saved by a private military contractor, the FBI and the State Department suddenly demanded to file all kinds of reports. In short, I’d be escorted from the airport—with Dad—to, I assumed, the FBI. To answer questions and whatnot.
“According to Dad, we’ve been promised it shouldn’t take long—this initial meeting anyway,” I replied. “I can give them an hour, I guess. Then I will riot.”
He smiled a little. “Give ’em hell. And then you’ll go to the hotel?”
I nodded. “Where I will call you and ask very sweetly if you’d like to come over for room-service pizza.”
He chuckled and gave my leg a squeeze. “I wouldn’t mind that one bit, but you should have some alone time with him.”
I sighed, knowing he had a point. Even more so because I had plans. Plans to tell Dad that I would be looking for my next job in the DC area.
I did have friends there. One of my closest friends, actually—we’d gone to nursing school together. I should give Ivy a call soon.
It would do me good to have a fresh start too.
I hadn’t told James about that yet.
James was on the phone from the moment we stepped off the plane.
Operator Wilde walked by briskly, and we exchanged polite smiles. She was the only one who’d flown back to the US with us. Operator Stevens and Operator Kelley had remained in Turkey.
By the time we got to baggage claim, Wilde was nowhere to be seen.
“I’m just gonna go check out my firearm. Go have a seat.” James pressed a kiss to my temple before walking off to what I assumed was the baggage office. “Yes, sir. I’ll hold,” he said to whoever was on the phone.
Okay, then.
I clasped my hands in front of me and glanced around. People didn’t bother me. That was one thing James had warned me about, coming home after experiencing something traumatic. How crowds and too many impressions could easily overwhelm someone. But so far, so good. Maybe it would come later. Right now, I was hopped up on adrenaline and the excitement of seeing Dad again. We were almost there. Almost, almost.
Six months of hell were truly over.
I’d decided to take James up on his offer too. I wanted to talk to their resident “Doc,” who specialized in trauma. He was apparently the guy every operator was obligated to talk to at Hillcroft.
At some point, I’d find a way to reach out to Noura too. I still wanted to help.
I watched as more passengers gathered to wait for their luggage to appear on the conveyor belt, and I couldn’t deny Iwas looking forward to being aroundstuffagain. My own stuff. Toiletries, clothes, A/C…a bathroom! Wherever I ended up. Real toilets. Hot water. Being able to shower every other day. Endless supply of toilet paper.
Dad was bringing my phone. So I was definitely going to add James’s number.
For now, I had it written on my hand.
James returned with his little hard case that contained his sidearm, and he nodded toward the exit and draped an arm around my shoulders.
“Let’s go, hellcat. I secured a private room for your reunion,” he said. “They’re bringing your dad there now.”
Oh my God. “That’s why you were on the phone? I heard you say something about past security.”
He inclined his head. “We’ll go through the red zone for those who have shit to declare.”
He was amazing. “You’re amazing, you know that? That’s what I have to declare.”
He smirked a little. “Your sense of humor is a bit on the dorky side.”
I chuckled.
