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I guess that’s what you’d call it when Iranian mercenaries rip your friend’s leg off with an unlucky shot in a dark Syrian village.
Never mind the devious shit that’s been going on Stateside in my newer missions.
Still, I hold my tongue.
Delia flips her long black hair over one shoulder. “It’s okay, Evie. Really. It’s actually enlightening to hear from someone on the other side. I took a whole class last semester about story sensitivity.”
I snort at how cold she sounds.
Her pretty face curdles.
But the fire I can’t temper in my eyes, lapping at her skin, must get her attention. She looks at me, cocks her head, and polishes off another delicate sip of wine before speaking.
“So, what are you? Submarine sailor? A marine?”
“Hewasa Navy SEAL,” Ma answers for me. “He hates me for saying it, but we’re all family now. There’s no sense in secrets. I don’t even know if it’s classified or whatever now that he’s out.”
I glare, but she carries on undaunted.
“My son’s very shy when it comes to his work. Or the government just keeps his lips sewn shut or something. That little company he works for now is just as bad.” She wrinkles her nose.
Or something.
Goddamn, I’d love to show herwhyclassified information exists.
The only thing worse than the media jackals I dealt with overseas are Ma’s loose lips. My commanding officer wrung my neck not long after I joined the SEAL team when she drunkenly squawked to a tabloid.
Thankfully, the tabloid asshole dropped the story before it went live, but only after she shelled out some serious money.
If my mother thinks her new sugar daddy gives her a license to blab about my business, she can think the fuck again.
“A SEAL?” Delia sounds sincerely impressed when she looks at me again. “Wow. You must be awfully good at what you do to have had the honor...”
“I’m good at everything I do,” I throw back, locking eyes until she looks away. My confidence scares her, and I fucking love it. “I’ve got my duties and I take them seriously. That’s all anybody at this table needs to know.”
I drag my fork across the appetizer plate of stuffed mushrooms, puncturing the awkward silence that follows.
“So, Bruce, while we’re sharing secrets, why don’t you tell us about the big merger coming up?” Ma’s face is a mask of nerves as she looks at him intently.
I’ve got a feeling Daddy Warbucks has a narcissistic streak as well. And I’m right when his face lights up, and he launches into a long-winded story that spares no detail or legalese.
It’s not hard to miss the main point—if and when this merger with a rival airline gets wrapped up sometime this century, it’s guaranteed to make him even richer.
What else is new with the world?
After glazing over for five minutes while I pick at my risotto, the main dish arrives. I huff out a grateful breath.
Seared steak and lobster with this citrus-glazed asparagus pairs well with the beer I have brought out.
It’s almost enough to forget about the hot piece I won’t be bedding tonight while I down my tall glass in one swallow. Mom gives me the stink eye the entire time.
Hilarious.
It’s like she doesn’t know I’m doing her a favor by taking the edge off.
A mild buzz is the lesser evil versus letting my hands have their way.
If they get half a chance, they’ll be under the table again, and this time they won’t stop at Delia’s supple thigh.
