Chapter 19 Prep Time
Chapter nineteen
Prep Time
“Let me get this straight,” Lance said, leveling a stare at Jon from his hospital bed. “We’ve got a Mexican cartel grabbing girls off the streets in fucking Oregon, and you called in three guys for back-up?”
Jon gave a faint shrug. “I don’t have the pull I used to. If you’d get out of this bed and make yourself useful, we’ll be up to six.”
Lance rolled his eyes. “Come off it, asshole. They’re talking about discharging me today, anyway.” He paused and a scowl bent his lips. “How the hell did you go from three to six? The two of us would make five. Did you forget basic math?”
“Alex called this morning,” Jon replied, ignoring the rest of Lance’s declaration entirely.
“Seems he was only manning the storefront while his older brother was away on vacation, and he wants to help clean up the community.” The call, and the offer, had surprised him, but Jon recognized the situation he was in. He wasn’t about to turn away real help.
Lance’s brows shot up his forehead. “Army Alex?”
“Army Alex.”
“Well, the six of us could make a difference locally, I guess.” Lance raised a hand and rubbed at the dark stubble that had grown on his jaw. The man hadn’t shaved since he’d come to the hospital and it was starting to show. “But there’s still the source to consider.”
“The Marines have live intel of an active threat on domestic soil from a foreign party. No way in hell that wasn’t passed along the moment they recognized it for what it was.
” That didn’t guarantee the Corps would be the ones given the task of subduing the threat, but it did greatly increase the odds that plans were already in motion to accomplish the goal that mattered.
Jon wasn’t arrogant enough to believe he could hop on a plane and personally overthrow a cartel that had apparently conquered an entire region of a foreign nation.
He had to be satisfied with culling their influence from his own territory.
He tightened his arm around Jenna’s shoulders.
She gave his thigh a squeeze.
Mischief sparked in Lance’s eyes. “You two are freakishly cute,” he said with a grin. “You know, I’m pretty sure there’s a utility room behind one of the doors out there, if you need a minute alone…”
Jon narrowed his eyes at his pain-in-the-ass friend. “Fuck you.”
Lance laughed. “No, sir, the point is most definitely for you to fuck the beautiful lady next to you. Have you put a label on it yet? This is the longest relationship you’ve had since … before boot, right?” The glint in his eyes assured Jon Lance knew exactly what he was doing.
Jon grunted and stood, pulling Jenna to her feet alongside him. “Well, glad to see you’re still in good spirits. I think.” He gave a deliberate slap to Lance’s partially exposed foot. “Call me when they’re getting ready to let you out, I’ll come pick you up.”
Lance waved him off. “Nope, not doing that, thank you. I’m angling for a sympathy invite to crash on Lynn’s couch.”
Jon groaned. This jackass.
Jenna choked on a laugh. “Yeah, that won’t happen.” When Lance shifted his focus to her, she said, “Lynnette doesn’t do couch surfers or roommates. She’s absolutely not breaking that rule for a patient.”
“Former,” Lance corrected. “I’d be a former patient.”
“Too recent for her to see the distinction.” Jenna curled an arm around Jon’s waist. “You’ll have to try a different angle. Sorry.”
“Huh.” Lance scrunched up his face. “Well, shit.”
Jon chuckled. “Call if you change your mind before I go dark. Otherwise, you really will need a sympathy couch.”
“Sir, yes, sir.”
Jon walked Jenna with him up to the door, raised one hand out to flip Lance the bird, and used the other to cup her cheek. “I’ll be back in about an hour, baby. But call if anything happens.”
She smiled and rested her hands on his chest. “I know. We talked all this out on the drive, remember? I’ll be fine. Go meet with that lawyer while you can.”
Jon stole a too quick kiss and stepped back again.
Of course, the damn lawyer he’d emailed after reading his grandfather’s letter to him had emailed that morning and of course he’d had an opening in his schedule that same day.
It was great for progress, but arguably not the progress he needed to be making.
Jon cut his eyes over to his too-observant friend. “Watch over her for me.”
Lance grinned and raised one hand, miming a gun. “Locked and loaded, boss.”
Jon shook his head, offered Jenna one more smile, and forced himself out the door. Being late wouldn’t help anyone.
Jenna tried not to let the nerves show on her face as the door closed behind Jon.
He’d offered to bring her with him to the meeting, but she had felt like going was entirely too invasive.
He would tell her anything that was worth sharing or needed to be shared, at the point when the necessity occurred.
She trusted that. But that same thought process had resulted in Jon obsessing over the notion of her being somehow vulnerable on her own.
How he drew that conclusion when he could easily have left her in her apartment to wait for whatever window replacement people Diane had called, with no means of transportation, was a mystery.
Except the solution he’d come to meant leaving her alone with a stranger. A man Jon trusted completely, and so Jenna was certain he wouldn’t harm her, but he hadn’t had the greatest first impression of her. And she didn’t know how to bridge that.
Giving herself a mental smack, Jenna moved back into the heart of the room and looked across at the man who’d helped rescue her shop from the robbery.
“Sorry,” she said, “if we’d planned this better, I could have made you some cupcakes or something, at least.” She had no idea what—if any—sweet treat he preferred, but hopefully her point carried.
Lance grinned, the expression no different than the one he’d offered Jon moments earlier. “Well now I’m mad at our dude. He should’ve given you time to prepare. I fuckin’ love cupcakes. Especially those Funfetti ones.”
Jenna blinked at him for a second, caught off-guard by the opening line, before the entirety of his statement connected with her brain and a laugh burst from her in an inelegant snort.
She clapped a hand over her mouth and moved closer, extending her other.
“We never did get properly introduced. I’m Jenna. ”
“And I’m honored,” he joked as he shook her hand. “Sorry. Lance.”
She shook her head. “I’m definitely no one to be honored about.” She paused, thinking to add an apology for what had happened to him though he likely wouldn’t want it, but Lance spoke again.
“Oh, no,” he said. “You don’t understand. I’ve heard stories.”
Her eyes widened and Jenna moved back to drop back into her vacated seat. “I beg your pardon?”
“Guys talk,” he replied. “We talk a lot of smack, obviously, but sometimes we also talk truth. And Jon”—his expression calmed into a deeper, warmer smile—“he held you in his heart the way some people hold their mommas, or their gods. He never told a disrespectful story about the girl he’d left behind.
” A laugh suddenly vibrated out of him. “Hell, one time, one of the guys in our unit had had a few too many and he said your name. Made some stupid remark, I don’t remember it now.
Jon was on him so fast even I didn’t see him move, and I see everyone move. ”
Jenna’s eyes widened, though, if she were honest with herself, she could see it. He’d always been that way in high school. But she’d convinced herself he had shaken his old life when he’d boarded that plane—her included. It had never occurred to her that he’d held regrets.
Not until their recent conversations, at least.
She chewed her lip. “Did he get in trouble?”
Lance snorted. “Oh, yeah, but just minor shit. The other guy sobered up and owned his idiocy, even offered Jon another punch.”
Jenna frowned. “Why would he do that?”
“Because we all have someone,” Lance replied, meeting her gaze.
Jenna felt her face flush. Jon had told her he’d go back and change their story if he could, but she’d assumed that was something he had come to realize only recently. Since their reunion.
“So,” Lance said, speaking again before her emotionally taxed brain could spiral, “you probably know Jon’s not much for gossip.”
Her lips twitched. “I do know that.”
His grin returned. “How’re things?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Her fading blush returned full-force. “Private!” she said, a little too sharply. “Things are private.”
Lance tipped his head back and laughed, and he was still laughing when the door swung open.
“Glad to see one of us is having a good day,” Lynnette quipped as she wheeled in a food tray with a clipboard stuck under her arm.
She let the door swing shut behind her and the entire cart shifted with a suspicious squeak before one wheel popped off, rolling up to the hallway wall and rebounding sharply, all the way under Lance’s bed.
Jenna watched the entire scene happen in slow-motion, her mouth open with the intention to greet her friend but the words stuck in her throat.
“Son of a bitch!” Lynnette exclaimed as she dropped her clipboard in her rush to stabilize the food cart.
Lance sat forward and caught hold of the nearest corner of the cart, helping to hold it steady. “Easy there, Lynn,” he said, aiming a charming grin at his nurse, “your bestie’s shy.”
Lynnette finally stilled. “My what?”
Jenna’s eyes locked onto the bandages wrapped around her friend’s visible hand, obscuring her knuckles, and guilt stabbed her heart. “Hey. Surprise,” she said weakly.
Lynnette turned her head, careful not to move her grip, and her eyes widened. “Jenna?” She glanced around, most likely looking for Jon, and asked, “Are you here alone?”
“Jon left a little bit ago,” Jenna replied. “He had an important meeting.”
“I’m playing babysitter,” Lance supplied.