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“That was a little one, and nowhere near as nice as this one.”
“I’ll ask Razor to arrange a flight for your birthday.”
“You’re a big chicken,” said her mother, sounding like one of her girls.
“I am not.”
“Are too.”
“Seeing as we didn’t have time to eat, I need sustenance before our flight. Hurry up.”
The whole way down the stairs, onto the tarmac, and into the main terminal of the airport, Saylor’s mother clucked like a chicken.
—:—
Monk got up when he heard the hotel room door close. He stretched his arms above his head and rolled his shoulders. His body was screaming at him to get to the gym, which he’d be able to, once they were back in Yachats.
He anticipated Doc would call the hotwash meeting soon after their arrival, and then he’d find out where this nomadic life would take him next.
The only thing he knew for certain was that Petrov would be their number one target. That much was a given. Ava’s life would remain in danger until they were able to find the man and take him down.
Saylor, though. Damn. There wasn’t a single thing he didn’t like about the woman, including her not wanting a relationship. It wasn’t that he didn’t want one. A relationship wouldn’t fit into his life, just like it didn’t fit into hers.
However, he had to admit, she’d played a role in his every thought so far this morning.
When he got back to Yachats. She’d be there. It’s where she lived. Where his job with K19 would take him next. How long would it be before he saw Saylor again? Taking down Petrov. A mission like that would involve putting his life in danger many times over. If he died, would his last thoughts be of her?
He checked his phone and saw there was a message from Doc. Monk was to pick up one of four SUVs they’d be using to escort Razor from the hospital to the airfield. The number of vehicles and personnel in them wasn’t for Razor’s protection as much as for his peace of mind. As one of the four founding partners, Razor could call in as much K19 firepower as he wanted, and when it came to keeping Ava safe, Monk was surprised that Razor hadn’t demanded tanks along with closed air space.
He got in the shower, turned the temperature all the way to hot, and stood under the scalding, cascading water. He eased the temp back once he felt the tension in his shoulders loosen and the fog clearing from his head. The job he did, required that he be one-hundred percent focused, one-hundred percent in the game. There was no room for any clouds of judgment.
There’d been a time in his life when he considered taking up the sport of bull-riding. It took the same kind of mindset. If a rider wasn’t all in, every thought, every breath focused on staying on the back of that bull, he faced certain death.
After he dressed, repacked his small bag, and was ready to head out, he turned around and took one more look at the bed he’d shared with Saylor last night and the one before. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of her and of their lovemaking. Both still lingered in his memory if not in the air.
HE PULLED the SUV up to the front of the hospital just as Razor and Ava came out the door. He walked closer when Razor motioned him over.
“Stay close, just in case,” Razor muttered as he climbed into the second row of seats, behind Ava. The man had survived a gunshot wound that penetrated both lungs, put him on life support, and yet he was leaving the hospital four days later. Monk would’ve gladly carried him out of the hospital if he would have needed it. Razor Sharp was a goddamn rock star, though. It was an honor to get to work with him as often as he did.
AS MONK HAD EXPECTED, Razor climbed the stairs onto the K19 plane unassisted. He wished he could’ve seen how Saylor had decorated the aft cabin, but it wasn’t for Monk’s eyes; it was for Ava’s. Judging by the way she gasped when Razor opened the door, it must’ve been beautiful.
When he smiled and turned around to take a seat, Onyx was studying him. “Heard you been keepin’ company with Razor’s sister.”
The pilot, with his quintessential quiff haircut and signature Randolph Aviator sunglasses, had become one of Monk’s closest friends. They’d met when they served together in the Marine Corps, where Onyx had flown F/A-18 Hornets. Like him, Onyx didn’t feel the need to fill a silent void with conversation.
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“You got it bad, son,” Onyx said when Monk sat in one of the airplane’s captain’s chairs, with the smile still on his face.
After waiting a few seconds for a response from Monk that didn’t come, Onyx walked toward the cockpit. Monk could hear him chuckling as he went.
Maybe Onyx was right and he did have it bad, but he’d be over it soon enough.
8
“We just landed,” Saylor called and told her best friend, Poppy, who the girls were staying with. “I’ll come straight there to get them.”
“I’ll bring them to the house.”
