Page 74 of False Flag

Bowl empty, he sat back and studied his dinner companion, who was halfway through the crab Louie. “Thank you. For ordering dinner. For staying with me.”

“Thank you for letting me stay.”

Just this morning, he had pinned her to the rail, his mouth on hers. Now, while it remained a pleasant memory, sex was the very last thing he wanted from her. He reached across the table and placed his hand over hers. “I fully intend to break down tonight. It might get ugly. Just warning you.”

“I can handle it. You were too perfect anyway.”

“Careful, or you’ll inflate my ego.”

“Not possible. It’s at maximum expanse.”

He smiled even as his chest burned. “If only.”

She turned her hand beneath his and squeezed. “I’m here for you. Get as ugly as you want. I won’t leave.”

He nodded. “I heard. What he said to you this morning, I mean. I waited out of sight, not to spy, but because I didn’t know what he’d do, and I wanted to be there for you if…” His voice trailed off.

If Lloyd got violent.

It was something he’d never considered until he was called into a meeting at NSWC and was told about Lloyd’s arrest.

“I’m fine. I mean, his words couldn’t hurt me. I don’t let men’s shallow opinions define how I see myself.”

“I’m glad. Because you’re pretty damn amazing.”

She gave him a wry smile. “When I’m not being a coward.”

He jolted. “I’m sor⁠—”

She held up a hand. “No. You were right. I was a coward. But we can talk about that another time.”

He brought her hand to his lips. “Promise?”

She nodded, slipped her hand from his, and drew an X over her chest. “Cross my heart.”

He couldn’t help but smile. He snatched a fry from the plate of fish and chips that had mostly gone ignored and took a bite. It had a good crunch to it.

He studied the half-eaten fry. Crisp on the outside. Fluffy on the inside. Perfection in fried potato form.

He would never again eat fries—good, bad, mediocre—with his brother. It was such a small thing, but how many fast-food meals had they shared over the years? How many deep-fried potatoes had they consumed?

He remembered stealing Lloyd’s fries when his own plate was empty. It happened often, because there was never enough once Jake hit puberty.

Huh. So there was something Lloyd wanted that Jake had stolen. But it wasn’t a spot on a SEAL team, or a wife, or a beautiful archaeologist.

No.

French fries were the extent of his fraternal larceny.

His eyes burned. He finished off the fry, but his stomach churned.

He took a slow breath. His stomach needed to settle before he could let go. A crying jag now could make him lose his dinner. He focused on his half-finished beer. He was back in the Pacific Northwest, and the Canadian amber was one of his favorite local brews.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

The refrigerator clicked on, the buzz of the motor strangely loud in the quiet room. He picked at the corner of the label on the beer bottle and broke the lengthy silence. “He wasn’t always like that.”

“What was he like? When you were boys?” Staci’s voice was soft. Smooth. Genuine. She wanted to know.