29. Fuzzy Landing
29
FUZZY LANDING
Ronan brought the plane down on a decent line, compensating for the tremor in his hands. Not his best landing, but nobody died, and he didn’t scratch the plane, so he’d count that as a win.
“Show-off,” Griffin muttered from the co-pilot seat.
“Says the man who once landed a chopper in a sandstorm.” Ronan started shutdown procedures, each movement sending fresh fire through his arm from shoulder to fingers.
The Knight Tactical hangar was organized chaos. Axel stood at the front of the welcoming committee, his usual stoic expression cracking into relief when Griffin emerged. The two men embraced briefly, Axel clapping Griffin on the back.
“Good to have you back, brother.”
“Good to be—” Griffin’s response cut off as Kenji practically tackled him.
“You absolute jerk,” Kenji said, grinning. “Do you know how much paperwork you caused when you walked out of that last debrief without the CO’s permission?”
Ronan watched Griffin’s smile tighten, not quite reaching his eyes. Before he could analyze that, his mother rushed him.
“Mom, I’m fine?—”
“You were shot. Again.” She eyed his bandages while simultaneously pulling out her recorder. “Now, about these clinic infiltrations?—”
“Not now, Mom.”
Izzy appeared at Ronan’s side. “You look bad.”
“Thanks.”
“Med bay’s waiting. And those two”—Ethan nodded toward a corner where two people were examining Knight Tactical’s security setup with enthusiasm—”are making us very nervous.”
The two rescued veterans, both middle-aged, one male, the other female, were roaming away from Jack and Austin. Mike Rutherford, former Army Ranger, was pointing out what he considered to be potential blind spots in their security system. Katherine Genovese, the retired Marine, had somehow acquired a tablet and appeared to be taking notes.
“This is outstanding! What a set up you people have,” Kate announced. “Hey, Rutherford, they’ve got thermal imaging!”
“That’s proprietary info,” Austin protested.
“Son, I had better tech in Fallujah,” Mike replied. “Now, about these camera angles ...”
Maya materialized next to Ronan, steadying him when he swayed slightly. “Medical. Now. You need to let Kenji take a look.”
“I need to debrief?—”
“You need stitches.” Her hand brushed his good arm. “The conspiracy will wait ten minutes.”
“Five.”
“Ten.” Her tone brooked no argument. “Axel’s got this.”
Indeed, Axel had moved to intercept Lawrence Chen, who was trailing Ronan’s mom with his own tablet, adding commentary to her interviews. Axel’s expression suggested he was reconsidering several life choices.
“Fine. Ten minutes.” Ronan caught Griffin watching him and Maya, something unreadable in his expression. Before he could ask, Griffin turned away, focusing intently on whatever Kenji was saying.
“Make it fifteen,” Star called from nearby. “Your landing was crooked.”
“My landing was perfect.”
“Your landing,” Maya said softly, steering him toward medical, “was stubborn. Like the pilot.”
Her hand was still on his arm. He told himself the warmth spreading through his chest was just blood loss.
Behind them, Kate’s voice rose: “Hey, is that a weapons testing range? Mike, they’ve got a weapons testing range!”
“Ma’am, that’s restrict—” Austin’s protest faded into resignation.
Ronan caught Axel’s eye. His second-in-command shook his head slightly—Griffin was different. They both saw it. The question was why.
“Stop thinking so loud,” Maya murmured. “Medical first. Mysteries second.”
He let her guide him toward the Knight Tactical medical bay tucked in next to the workout area, very aware of her fingers still resting just above his elbow. He’d give it ten minutes, then they needed answers.
In the end, he endured twenty minutes of Maya hovering while Kenji cleaned and re-stitched his arm. Not that he minded having Maya around. She reminded him of the ocean—calm on the surface but with currents that could pull you under if you weren’t careful. And he was definitely in danger of drowning, especially when she looked at him with that mix of concern and exasperation.
The painkillers they gave him were barely enough to take the edge off—his insistence on staying clear-headed meant settling for something just above aspirin. Maya’s eyeroll suggested exactly what she thought of that decision.
Finally, Kenji snapped off his latex gloves. “He’ll do.”
While Kenji cleaned up, Maya helped Ronan shrug back into his shirt. “Be careful. If you pull those stitches playing hero again, I’m letting your mom interview you while you’re on the good drugs.”
“That’s just cruel.”
Her smile didn’t quite hide her concern. “Then don’t pull your stitches.”
They could hear the two vets’ enthusiastic voices carrying from the command center, punctuated by what sounded like Ethan and Zara giving them a technical rundown of the surveillance systems. His mother’s rapid-fire questions provided a steady backbeat to the chaos.
Through the windows of the medical bay, he saw Griffin standing slightly apart from the others, posture rigid as Axel and Deke tried to draw him into conversation.
“Something’s wrong,” Maya said quietly.
Ronan finished buttoning his shirt one-handed. “Let’s go find out what.”