Chapter 4
James Hyatt
What was she doing?
And why the fuck was she only wearing panties and a top?
Then I spotted the clothes draped across rocks outside the cabin, and I put two and two together. She’d found water, and she’d done laundry.
Did she have to be so perfectly curvy? Those hips were made for grabbing. Her waistline was smaller, but she had some softness there too. That ass…
Okay, I was done. Done and irritated. She was gonna be a distraction.
I wiped sweat off my forehead and climbed the last bit, and then I trailed over to the helipad.
The closer I got, the more I could see. She’d moved the two rows of seats that could be moved. She’d made an open space on the floor, and she was laying out the seat cushions to create what I assumed was a bed.
“Are you honestly redecorating?”
She yelped and spun around inside the helicopter, and she clutched her chest. “Jesus Christ, you can’t sneak up on people like that!”
I clenched my jaw. She could at least put on a fucking bra.
Six days to go.
“I was trying to be nice and return your mattress,” she said with a huff. “Your turn. Where have you been?”
I was still distracted. And irritated. “I saw a bunch of pheasants in the valley, so I set up a trap after I talked to my OH.”
“What’s an OH?”
“My CO. Operations handler. Can you put on your clothes? You’re gonna get sick.”
She knitted her brows. “It’s like seventy-five degrees.”
No, by the look of things, it was much colder.
“Whatever,” I muttered, heading toward the cabin. “Don’t come cryin’ to me when you get pneumonia.”
She let out a laugh that stopped me in my tracks, and I scowled back at her.
That made her stop. “Oh. You were serious.” She turned solemn, but it was bullshit. “I promise. I won’t come crying to you on my deathbed.”
I gnashed my teeth and walked away once more—
“Wait!” she called. “What did your CO say? I never gave you my dad’s phone number.”
I didn’t need it. Her story checked out, and a simple Google search had led us to news articles. Her old man had been interviewed for one, and with his name and hometown, he’d been easy to find.
“We don’t have all the details yet, but your story checks out, and we found your dad,” I replied. “I told my people to let him know you’ll be home in about eight days.”
She lit up in that way again that kinda deflated me. She had an absolutely killer smile. She jumped down from the helicopter and ran toward me, and I braced myself. Fucking hell, she was going to hug me. Yup, I was right. Fuck my life. She plastered herself to me and hugged my middle.
“Thank you so much. Thank you, thank you!”
Yeah, all right, enough. I patted her awkwardly on the back before easing off.
But I wanted to keep that relief written across her face for a while longer, so I didn’t tell her that her team from The Lunch Box was most likely dead.
Nothing had come up in the search about ransom or other demands, and the Belgian government had reached a dead end in their quest to get answers via “diplomatic relations.”
“I’mma go make some food—”
“Actually, will you let me?” She grabbed my arm and peered up at me. “I’d like to be more than an annoying stowaway. I can cook, I can fish, I can…help out. I can sort out the border pieces for your puzzles.” Her mouth twitched with amusement.
I narrowed my eyes. Was she making fun of my hobby?
“Doing puzzles is badass,” I told her. “It’s relaxing, and it’s good for your brain.”
“I wasn’t teasing you!” Except, her beautiful grin was back. “I actually like puzzles myself. And crossword puzzles and sudokus…”
Oh. All right.
“So, about the food?” she prodded. “Based on the ingredients I saw, I can make a loaf of bread…?”
If she wanted to cook, by all means. I sucked at it. I nodded with a dip of my chin and gestured at the bird. “There’s a box of supplies behind my seat too. It won’t be enough to last us all week, but I’m pretty sure we’ll have pheasant tomorrow. Knock yourself out.”
“Oh, exciting. I didn’t know about the box. Lunch coming up in a moment, then. Go sit down.”
I just might.
We parted ways, and I—
“Oh, one more thing, pilot guy!”
Jesus, what now?
I looked over my shoulder.
“It would be nice to know your name,” she said.
Shit. I hadn’t introduced myself.
I scratched the side of my head. “Everyone calls me Hyatt.”
“What does your mama call you?”
Damn. I couldn’t help but smirk. “Sugar.”
Kiera laughed. “Goddammit, Hyatt, tell me your first name.”
Oh, fine. “James. Happy now?”
She beamed. “Very. I’ll let you know when the food is ready, James.”
Uh-huh. I nodded once and headed off, 100% certain now that she was trouble.
The outhouse was ready. It took some dusting and cleaning out of a few spiders, but we were good to go. Before I ducked out of there, I placed two toilet paper rolls next to the shitter and poured a bottle of disinfectant in the tank.
“James?”
“Yeah?” I trekked back to the cabin and arrived just as she came out of there.
“How did you bring so much?” She was holding two handfuls of spice bags and stock cubes—and one jar of strawberry preserves.
“I thought the hot sauce and salt were luxurious enough, and then I saw a pouch labeled ‘Kitchen’ attached to your rucksack. I hope you don’t mind that I snooped. I didn’t touch anything else.”
It was fine. I could go with I have my orders again, but that might get repetitive.
“I didn’t bring all of it. We have people like your friend’s husband in all countries we work in.
Nobody knows everything, but each one knows something.
One guy will keep supplies stocked for us.
Another will act as a courier. Someone will…
you know, be in charge of surveillance at a safehouse. ” I lifted a brow at her.
She smiled sheepishly. “I’m guessing you know Noura’s husband by name now.”
I did. “He won’t get into trouble.” We wouldn’t be using that location again anyway. “As for all this—” I gestured to her hands. “Call me comfortable. I don’t like my fish bland.”
It wasn’t technically a lie, but I wasn’t about to divulge that I was preparing the location for two operators who were going to spend three months here soon. The helicopter had way more supplies in the cargo; it just wasn’t for me to use.
Kiera squinted up at me and tilted her head. “I think you’re withholding something, but I’ll allow it. I’m just curious. Food’s ready soon.” She turned and headed back inside.
Her ass was still too sexy for her own good, but I’d allow it.
One would think a fantastic meal would silence just about anyone. And if that didn’t do the trick, then how about the view?
Kiera had a nice fire going in the pit a few paces away from the camp, and we were currently eating soup and freshly made bread in front of it. Plus, the view. Did that shut her up? Not one bit. She hadn’t been lying about being curious.
“Siblings?”
I shook my head and dipped the bread into the soup. It was fucking amazing. She’d turned canned tomato soup into something worthy of a restaurant menu. She’d used rice, green lentils, freeze-dried chicken, and chili. And the bread was fantastic. I tasted olive oil and rosemary.
“Small family, then?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Not really. My grandparents had two boys. One had one child—me—and the other had eight.”
“Wow. So a lot of cousins. Are you close?”
“Not really,” I repeated. “I’m close with my folks. That’s plenty.” I shoveled more food into my mouth and eyed her. Family was important to her—that much was clear. Was she disappointed I had another opinion?
My folks were about as married to their careers as I was. Even now when they were getting closer to eighty, Ma was involved with activities for the children at her church. She’d always loved being a teacher. And Pop could be found under the hood of a car.
It made me think of something, because there was one more.
“You haven’t asked about my grandparents,” I pointed out.
She widened her eyes, and it was fucking funny.
“I-I’m sorry,” she said. “They’re alive?”
“I woulda said yes if you’d asked me last year,” I answered. “Gramps kicked the bucket last September, but I have my nana around.” Wretched woman. She always cheated at poker and stole my whiskey.
Had to love her, though.
“Oh, wow. That’s impressive.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “How old do you think I am?” Let’s face it, I was pretty old. Gramps had died at the young age of ninety-nine.
Kiera bit her lip. “Um…forty-three?”
I snorted. Horrible liar.
“You know it’s more than that,” I drawled. “I turn forty-eight in three months. It’s totally fine that you didn’t think I’d still have grandparents.”
She smiled a little and lowered her gaze. “My dad’s gonna be a funny grandpa.”
I dropped my spoon into my bowl and stared at her. “Are you pregnant?” Had someone forced themselves on her in Kabul?
“What? No!” She must’ve seen the gravity in my expression. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. I’m just looking forward to being a mom. This assignment was supposed to be my last one for a while.”
Jesus. Okay, that was…a lot different. Christ.
“The past six months, I haven’t really dared to keep dreaming,” she admitted. “It was like I lost sight of my future the moment we were attacked.”
I nodded. That made sense. It’d been a long time since I’d thought about the future. I worked too much. I practically lived at the agency. I had an apartment across the street from Hillcroft, and most of my meals came from the cafeteria.
“I get it,” I said. “So, you’re gonna go home and find someone to knock you up and drag you down the aisle.”
Her mouth twisted into a wry smile. “That sounds romantic. It’s a mystery someone hasn’t snatched you up yet.”
Eh.
I’d heard happy stories from work, but they were in the great minority. Most operators my age were on their fourth divorce. I’d never bothered. The day I retired from field ops, I was going to adopt a dog or two. Maybe buy a house.
“But seriously, though,” she pressed carefully. “You seem like a good man. You’re certainly handsome. Have you never been close to dragging someone down the aisle?”
Check that out, I was handsome.
I scratched my head with the end of my spoon. “My last serious relationship ended about six years ago because I couldn’t put her before my work. Same story every time. No, I haven’t gotten close.”
For some reason, that made her look even more curious. “Have you been at Hillcroft for long?”
Way too long, and I was never leaving. She’d asked about my family, the people I was related to, and the men and women I was actually close to…my second family…they were all at Hillcroft.
“Around twenty-five years.” Depending on how one looked at it.
“Holy crap.”
“I was still in the Air Force when I was recruited,” I said.
“Did you enlist when you were a toddler?”
I chuckled. “Almost. Got my ship date right before I turned eighteen.” In many ways, I had loved the Air Force.
In other ways, I’d felt…contained and held back.
“Hillcroft needed pilots and promised me what I was looking for at that age. Excitement, money, way more control…” I shrugged.
“Usually when you join Hillcroft, they want you to have a few years in the service, and you gotta be out when you start your training. But with pilots—they don’t exactly have their own flight school, so some of us are still active when we join.
I didn’t leave until I’d completed a deployment.
I wanted to make sure I was making the right choice. ”
I remembered those days with amazement at how I hadn’t developed an ulcer.
All my spare time off base had been spent at Hillcroft, and they’d pulled strings to get me time off as well.
Hillcroft wasn’t one of those shady agencies.
We took government contracts and cooperated with all our military branches.
But goddamn, had it been a stressful time in my life.
“Any regrets?” Kiera wondered.
I shook my head. “Not a one.”
She smiled. “Good. What did you fly in the Air Force?”
“Hueys.” I reckoned she knew more than most, considering her old man. Her low whistle and smirk boded well. “What did your dad fly?”
“T-38s.” Her smile softened. “I used to love watching him fly. I’d kind of dreaded the day he retired, because I was so sure he was gonna fall into a depression, but…
” She shrugged. “He said it was time, and that he was the luckiest bastard on earth for having been blessed with three big loves. Me, my mom, and his white rocket.”
I grinned. That was fucking beautiful. I could only hope I felt the same way the day I gave up flying. Granted, I could fly as a hobby, but it’d be like a fighter pilot wasting time on a crop duster.
I finished the last of my bread and felt bizarrely content.
At peace. But there was a dose of melancholy as well.
Peering out over the valley and the mountains beyond, I wondered if I was ever coming back here.
These days, most of my assignments took me to South America and Africa, and they weren’t as frequent anymore.
I was the senior operator in charge of our drone defense at Hillcroft, a passion project of mine.
“What’s that one called?” Kiera pointed at the helicopter.
“It’s an AW139,” I replied. “One of my favorites for low-risk assignments. We go way back. I had to kiss a fuck-ton of ass to get my boss to buy one for our permanent fleet.”
She chuckled. “Maybe you shouldn’t leave it in Afghanistan.”
I smirked. This particular model didn’t belong to us. Once we were done with our op, this one was returning to her owner in Cyprus.
“You’re lucky we have it now, seeing as it’s apparently your new bedroom,” I said.
She pointed to the bird. “There are zero spiders and scorpions in there.”
“There’s also zero heat,” I pointed out. “You know it gets cold at night.”
Also, there were no scorpions in the cabin. I’d looked with my UV light.
I hated scorpions.
“I’d rather freeze than wake up with a spider on my face,” she retorted.
Suit yourself.