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His CO swung his head to look at him.
“I request a few more days’ leave.”
Con’s stare pierced him.
“I’m owed the time off. I have it coming. I have something to take care of.”
He cocked a brow. “Does that something have to do with a certain member of Alpha?”
Everyone in the vehicle silenced, their personal conversations cut off in order to hear Slade’s response.
He drew a deep breath. If he was outing himself for being mixed up with Lena, so be it. He’d deal with the fallout later.
“That obvious?”
Con’s lips twitched. “I saw you together at that gala and then you disappeared together. We’ll drop you here and let you find your own way back to DC.”
Slade thrust a hand between the seats to grip his friend’s in a firm shake. They exchanged a nod of understanding that went deeper than the bonds of duty. Con was his brother.
“Go on. We know where to find you if we need you.”
The vehicle stopped and Slade leaped out with a wave at his teammates. Then he set off to find any transport that would get him back to Washington, DC…back to Lena.
This time he was going to make his intentions known. He was going to tell her that they were far from finished.
They were getting a fresh start.
Several hours and three transports later, Slade arrived at the door of Blackout headquarters. His need to see Lena launched his anxiety into outer space. Of all people, he knew the bad shit that could go down in a short amount of time.
He braced a hand against the wall, toe tapping, counting the seconds before someone gave him entry.
Too many minutes passed.
“What the hell is taking so long?” he growled under his breath.
Somebody wasalwayshere. When the team deployed, the support staff still remained in residence.
Another minute passed and nobody came. He pulled out his phone and was about to blow up Gia with text messages when the door opened.
He took one look at the creases on Mustang’s face and his blood drained out. “What’s wrong?”
He pictured Lena hurt, injured. Shot. The baby lost.
“A teammate’s been stabbed.”
His mind rolled. His stomach pitched. Bracing a hand on the doorframe, he ground out, “Lena?”
Mustang gripped him by the shoulder, his hard fingers steadying him. “If it was Lena, you’d already know. Breathe, Overstreet. It’s Apollo.”
Fuck, Apollo stabbed. His friend.
“Where is she?” He still couldn’t make his lungs inflate.
“She’s at the hospital. I was about to head over there. I’ll drive you.” Mustang squeezed his shoulder as if he understood the shock Slade still hadn’t recovered from. And until he set eyes on his beautiful wife, he wouldn’t rest.
SEVENTEEN
Lena wrapped her arms around her middle and stared out the hospital window at the parking lot below. Beyond that, the city stretched out as far as the eye could see. And the leaden gray sky hung heavy over it all.
