Chapter 14
Ten days.
Ten of the longest days of her life.
That’s how long it had been since Walker had left.
Gillian had coped pretty well the first week, but the night before last, she’d had a nightmare that Walker had been killed somewhere and no one would tell her.
She’d caved and called his friend, Fletch, who reassured her that he was still on his mission, and that he wasn’t lying dead in some foreign country somewhere.
His deployment wasn’t easy, but like Gillian had told him once, she had a busy life that didn’t stop just because he was gone.
She continued to sign clients for events and was kept occupied by calling hotels and reserving meeting spaces, as well as figuring out other details for the varied events she put together.
At least once a day she heard from one of her fellow hostages. By now, they’d all gotten the news that there was a seventh hijacker, and her phone had been buzzing with texts and emails from everyone she’d gotten close to. Everyone was speculating on who it was and what their next plan would be.
Though, ever since her interview with the FBI and DEA, Gillian had begun distancing herself a little from the others.
She felt awful about it, but she couldn’t help but wonder if one of her friends could actually be a cold-blooded killer.
It seemed unlikely, but if someone like Janet, who’d seemed so scared about her daughter, ended up being a hijacker, Gillian would never trust anyone again.
So she’d spent most of her time with her local friends instead of getting any closer to the women who’d been on the plane with her.
She’d gone out for lunch with Ann one day, and then joined Wendy and Clarissa for a movie night at Clarissa’s house another evening.
She’d cried a little and had a bit too much wine, but overall was pretty proud of how well she’d been holding up.
The biggest hurdle was how much she missed Walker. She missed his texts that let her know he was thinking about her. She missed his laugh. She missed falling asleep with him on her couch, or his. It was as if a part of her was missing.
But the other half of the coin was how proud she was of him.
She had no idea what he was doing or where he was, but she’d turned to the internet to do more research on Delta Force.
They were one of the most secretive special forces units out there.
Walker hadn’t been kidding when he’d said he’d never be able to tell her what it was he did when he was gone.
Hell, she couldn’t find any concrete news stories about any group of Deltas at any event around the world.
It was almost eerie how they simply didn’t seem to exist as far as the press went.
It had taken a day or so to sink in, but Gillian realized she was all right with the secrecy.
As long as Walker returned safe, that was all that mattered.
He’d probably seen some horrible things in his life, and she wanted nothing more than to give him happiness when he was home.
He needed normal. Not a girlfriend who was hysterical when he left and not someone who brought unnecessary drama to his life. She wanted to be that person for him.
It was late on a Thursday night, eleven days after he’d left, when Gillian’s phone rang. Concerned, because nothing good came from a phone call after ten at night, at least not in her world, and because she didn’t recognize the number the call was coming from, Gillian answered it after two rings.
“Hello?”
“It’s me.”
Two words, but that’s all it took for Gillian’s entire body to sag in relief. “Walker,” she whispered.
“I’m back, but unfortunately I’ve got about six hours of debriefing meetings to attend before I’m free to go home. Then, as much as I want to see you, I need to sleep. I’ve been up for about thirty-six hours as it is.”
“It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re home. Are you…is everyone okay?”
“We’re good,” he said gently. “I just wanted to call as soon as I could to let you know that I’m all right.”
“Thank you. I missed you. More than you’ll know.”
“That’s my line,” Walker said. “You okay? Anything weird happen since I’ve been gone?”
“You mean besides me adopting a family of six and moving them into my apartment because they had nowhere else to go? No.”
“Gillian,” Walker said in a mock threatening tone.
She giggled. “No, nothing weird happened. I’ve been working, seeing my friends, and locking myself in my apartment by nine o’clock every night.”
“Good. Gotten any suspicious texts or emails from the other passengers?”
Gillian thought about a recent text from Andrea, about how she’d given up on therapy because it didn’t seem to be helping, and she still felt so angry that she’d been the one singled out by Luis.
And the email from Alice, telling Gillian she’d heard Leyton had been detained by Border Patrol when he’d tried to get into Mexico without a passport.
But now wasn’t the time to bring all that up. Not when Walker had just gotten home and was exhausted. “Everything’s fine,” she reassured him. “Go. Do your thing. Maybe I can come up tomorrow evening for the weekend?” she asked tentatively.
“Yes,” Walker said without hesitation. “Whenever you can get here in the afternoon will be perfect.”
“Okay. Walker?”
“Yeah, Gilly?”
“I’m glad you’re home.”
“Me too. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll text later when I get back to my apartment before I crash. Okay?”
“Okay. Drive safe. I won’t be happy if you made it through whatever you were doing in whatever country you were doing it in, only to get into a car crash your first day back.”
He chuckled. “I will. Talk later.”
“Bye.”
Gillian hung up, but couldn’t get Walker out of her mind. Was he really all right? Were Lefty and the others too? He said he hadn’t slept in almost two days, so he probably hadn’t eaten very well either. Didn’t soldiers eat those MRE things when they were deployed?
Springing up from the couch, Gillian headed for the kitchen, a plan formulating in her mind.
She knew Walker had meetings he had to attend.
Then he had to get some sleep. But he also needed to eat.
Something good, and not crappy takeout food or whatever he had in his apartment from before he’d left.
She opened her pantry and contemplated what she could make that would keep until he was done with his meetings.
The last thing she wanted to do was push herself on him, especially when he’d just told her he needed to sleep.
But she couldn’t just sit home and do nothing. She needed to do something for him.
Pulling a few ingredients out of the pantry, she nodded in determination.
She would make him a casserole that he could easily heat up when he got home and before he slept.
Bachelor casserole had always been a favorite of hers, and it was quick and easy to make.
She’d just whip up a batch of the noodle and hamburger meal and drop it off for him.
Not caring that it was ten at night and Walker lived forty miles away and it would be close to two in the morning when she got back to Georgetown herself, she got to work.
Trigger was beyond exhausted. He and the team had finished up their job and headed home without catching up on the sleep they’d lost over the last week and a half.
Because they hadn’t managed to kill the high-value target—the HVT—but instead had taken out half a dozen of his cronies, they’d had to meet with the base general and debrief.
There might be blowback because of their failure to kill the head bad guy—as Gillian would call him—but they were all pretty pleased with the terrorists they had managed to take out of commission.
Not every mission was as straightforward as the one he’d found Gillian in the middle of, which was frustrating, but Trigger had learned how to compartmentalize.
He’d borrowed a phone from one of the Army pilots because he and his team always left their personal cells at home when they went on missions, and he called Gillian the second they’d descended low enough to the ground to catch the signal from one of the many cell towers they were flying over.
He might’ve been embarrassed at how happy he was to hear her voice, if she didn’t sound just as relieved to hear from him.
Their debrief only took four hours instead of six, which Trigger was thankful for. He and the rest of his team were dead on their feet. He knew they’d need to regroup when they’d gotten some sleep and some decent food, but for now, their best bet was going home and crashing.
Trigger wished he could’ve seen Gillian when he got back to his apartment, but he smelled to high heaven and could barely keep his eyes open. He wanted to be at least semi-functional when he saw her again.
Unlocking his apartment door, Trigger froze.
Something was wrong.
It smelled…homey.
He’d been gone for eleven days. The air in his place should’ve been stale, but instead, the scent of food surrounded him and made his stomach growl.
It was three-thirty in the morning. What the fuck was happening?
Pulling out the K-BAR knife he kept on his person at all times when he was on a mission, Trigger eased his door shut and put down his duffle bag.
He crept into his apartment and noticed a light on in the kitchen.
A light he definitely hadn’t left on when he’d departed twelve days ago.
For a moment, he was a little frustrated, thinking that perhaps Gillian had decided to come up to his place even though he’d said he needed some sleep.
It was a shitty thought, but he was exhausted and in no mood to entertain anyone. Not even Gillian.