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“À votre santé,” Gunner toasted, but Mantis hardly heard it above everything Manon’s eyes were saying to him. Longing and love—he recognized both. She didn’t blink as she took a drink at the same time he did.
When Dutch approached and put his arm around her shoulders, the spell was broken. Mantis turned away from them both and took another drink.
He would allow himself one glass. No more than that, for once dinner was over, he’d find his hosts, thank them, and leave. In the meantime, he intended to stay as far away from Alegria and Dutch as he could.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked Striker and Aine, who were seated outside on the deck, at a table with only one open seat.
“Please,” answered Aine. “Have you met my mother?”
“I haven’t. Gehring Cassman, but most people here call me Mantis.”
“What a fascinating nickname. How did you get it?”
“His freakishly abnormal stereoscopic vision,” said Striker between forkfuls of turkey and stuffing. “It’s his call sign. Mantis is a pilot.”
“Actually, I was given the name due to my supernatural powers.”
Striker laughed. “You keep
telling yourself that.”
Mantis heard a familiar ring tone and watched as Striker stood and pulled his phone from his pocket.
“Excuse me,” he said, his playful demeanor abruptly changing.
Striker was far enough away that no one could hear what he was saying, but Mantis knew what the tone meant. Soon he’d return to the table and let Mantis know where he needed to go and how quickly he needed to get there. As the only pilot here, other than Alegria, who wouldn’t be flying again anytime soon, he’d take the assignment without question or hesitation. It’s what he would’ve done if he were one of twenty pilots here.
“Aine, can I speak to you privately?” Striker said when he returned to the table. He turned to him. “Mantis, stand by.”
“Roger that.”
Mantis finished the food on his plate, took it inside, and dumped the rest of the wine in his glass.
“What’s going on?” asked Alegria.
Mantis hadn’t seen her follow him into the kitchen.
“I’m afraid Mantis and I have to cut our visit short,” answered Striker, coming back inside with Aine.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“Alegria,” admonished Striker, looking directly at Aine and her mother, who had just walked into the room.
“I’ll just say my goodbyes. Fifteen minutes?” Mantis said to Striker.
“Roger that.”
“Wait.” Mantis felt Alegria’s hand on his arm when he went to look for Razor and Gunner. He closed his eyes, wishing he didn’t have to have this conversation.
“Where are you going?” she asked again.
“I don’t know.”
“And you agreed to the op anyway.”
“Look around you. Who else is there, Alegria?”
“It wouldn’t matter if there were five other pilots here,” she said, echoing the thoughts he’d just had.
