Chapter 24
Chapter 24
“ I do not like to work with civilians,” Victoria declared. Jones wasn’t certain if her accent made everything sound moody and imperious or if she actually was those things. Whatever the reason, he never thought he’d be so glad to find some space away from such a beautiful woman.
“So you mentioned,” he said dryly, tossing Ribs a conspiratorial glance that was lost on him. Ribs looked somber and deep in thought, harkening him back to Carol’s earlier pronouncement. Was Ribs sad? If so, why?
“She is not ready,” Victoria continued, talking about Carol as if she weren’t standing right beside them, looking small and helpless and, if Jones would admit, not ready.
But at Victoria’s declaration her face took on a mutinous pout and she puffed up, an angry little hen now. “Anything to add, Carol?” Jones prompted, tossing her a knowing look. Do it, he mentally urged. Go full Gum Lady on her, let her have it.
Carol’s smile was sickly sweet and she smoothed a hand over her hair, as if physically pushing back the impulse to snap. “Of course not, David. Because that wouldn’t be nice.”
“And you are so nice , Sweetie,” he countered, heavy on the sarcasm.
“I have to be in order to counteract your toxic masculinity, David,” Carol returned, still in the saccharine tone.
Ribs gave them a paternal smile, one that said he didn’t understand what they were talking about, but approved anyway.
Jones poked Carol. “The looming explosion is going to be epic. I’m bringing popcorn for when you finally go postal.”
“And what should I bring for when you finally go full romantic pussycat?” she asked, and Ribs snorted.
“Full romantic pussycat. I have to write that down to relay to the guys. Anyone have a pen?”
“Or possibly a plan?” Victoria inserted, tone frosty. “You may be content to enter this disaster with clever quips and longing glances, but I have a reputation for excellence to maintain. I will not fail this mission and you are in charge.” Her finger jutted accusingly toward Jones’s chest, but it was Carol who whirled on her, hands on hips.
“Then why did you miss your check in?” she demanded.
“What?” Victoria asked, blinking at her.
“We’re in this mess partly because you missed your check in, meaning David’s friend had to ask him to intervene and make contact. Where were you when you were supposed to be doing your job?”
Ribs blinked at her in surprise because it was the first time he’d heard her whip out the Gum Lady tone. Jones beamed in delight. He’d sort of missed the insufferable shrew, especially when it was being used in his defense instead of against him.
“I do not answer to you,” Victoria said haughtily.
“Then neither do we answer to you. If David says he has it covered, then he has it covered. I’m certain he’ll ask for your input if or when he needs it.”
Victoria whipped around and stalked ahead of them, her high heels clicking angrily on the cobblestone
“Dang, Carol,” Ribs said, impressed. “Are you sure you’re not one of us? That was terrifying.” He made a show of dabbing his forehead.
“I guess I’m a tad protective of my friends,” Carol said.
“I guess we’re lucky you’re on our side. Also that you don’t have access to weapons,” Ribs said.
He was smiling but Jones, newly attuned to his expression, realized it didn’t quite meet his eyes. Was Ribs sad? He couldn’t ask in front of Carol. If his friend had any hope of confiding in him, he wouldn’t do it in front of someone else.
“I tried to tell you,” he said. “She’s a killer.”
“I’m not though,” Carol said, blushing. “I think it’s you, David. I think you bring out this side of me.”
“He has that effect. Our SEAL team was a bunch of softies until Jones came along and made us fighters,” Ribs said, giving Jones a halfhearted shoulder punch that still managed to hurt. Not that he let his wince show.
“I really am the wind beneath your wings,” Jones agreed.
“Seriously, though, what is the plan here?” Ribs asked, eyebrow quirked in that way he always did before a mission, a signal that the time for fun was over and you’d better not be standing in his way because things were about to go down. Jones was intimidated by that look. It took him back to being the team’s little brother, the funny fat kid, the one who couldn’t be taken seriously as an actual threat.
“Well,” he began. If he had a collar, he’d be tugging it.
“The plan is to not die,” Carol said firmly, giving Ribs the hard stare.
He put up his hands and took a step back. “Sounds good. I suggest we follow it.” Picking up the pace, he caught up with Victoria.
“Dang, Carol,” Jones whispered after Ribs left them. “You actually are terrifying. Maybe you should join up, become a SEAL.”
“Boats make me seasick. Besides, it would probably only work if I had a vested interest.”
“Like someone picking on your friends?” he suggested.
“Is that what we are?” Carol asked, pausing mid-stride.
She stared up at him, blinking, waiting for his answer. Was she asking if they were still enemies or if they were more than friends? He felt like he was supposed to do something or say something or be something momentous, but as with everything lately he had no idea what that should be. So after an awkward pause he slowly replied, “I guess until something changes.”
“Okay,” she answered, a worrisome little pucker between her brows. It did something to him, that pucker, knocked something loose. Before she could take a step away, he put out a hand, grasping her forearm to hold her back.
“The thing is, Carol, that I have…I… Carol, the thing is… Here’s the thing… The thing is that I have…” He could not plausibly figure out how to tell this woman he had a crush on her, or at least that was what he thought it was. Worse than his inability to speak was the fact that his stuttering had caught the attention of Ribs, who now stood behind Carol pressing the first two fingers of both hands together and making kissy motions with his lips. Carol started to swivel in his direction and Jones yanked her back. What was more humiliating, that his longtime friend thought he needed pointers on talking to a woman, or that he actually needed pointers on talking to a woman? They were both bad, and he didn’t want Carol to see.
She stared up at him inquisitively, warm brown eyes like liquid chocolate over her adorable little pug nose. Had she gotten cuter, or was he only noticing it more since the loathing wore away?
He gave his head a little shake, pulling himself back in the game. I can do this. I can totally do this. “Carol, the thing is that I have a…” Be a man. Do it. Say it. I like you, Carol. Those four words. Say them in that order.
His mouth opened, but no further sound came out.
Carol took a little step forward and hooked her index fingers in two of his belt loops. “David, you saw me with a wad of gum in my hair, and then you saw my towel slip at the massage.”
Don’t nod, whatever you do, do not nod. And stop remembering the spa incident because it’s seriously not helping your concentration.
“I guess what I’m saying is that we’ve breached deeper levels of humiliation with each other. You can say anything to me, absolutely anything, with no judgment. I promise.” She took a tiny step closer, one that prompted him to put his hand on her waist. Behind her, Ribs pumped his fist encouragingly.
“The thing is that I have a…” a flash of motion caught his attention. “Gun.”
Carol’s lashes fluttered. “I know, you used it in the car the other day. I don’t know a lot about them, but it seemed nice enough.” She gave his chest a reassuring little pat.
“Gun,” Jones said again, yelling and pointing this time before diving on top of Carol and rolling her aside.
From the corner of his eye he saw Ribs dive, and then the shot rang out.
T hey hit the ground with the force of a cannon. Jones tried to take the impact as he rolled, but Carol made an “oomph” sound, as if the wind had been knocked from her. His gun was already out, but he remained immobile, Carol tucked safely beneath him. It was likely he was crushing her, but he couldn’t ponder that now.
To his left Ribs was in a defensive crouch behind an oversized planter. Jones gave him raised eyebrows. You got anything?
Ribs shook his head in return, mouthing, Victoria?
Jones shrugged. He had no idea where the woman had disappeared to. He didn’t see a body lying about. He would need to go investigate, but he didn’t want to leave Carol until he was certain she wasn’t exposed.
“What happened?” she said, breathless. Whether that was from shock or the weight of him, he had no idea. He thought maybe the latter when he raised himself on his forearms and she sucked air.
“There was a shooter.” He glanced down at her, assessing, and lingered. He’d heard the guys talk about how adrenaline could mix with testosterone to create a potent combo. He thought it was merely talk, but now he got it because with Carol pressed beneath him, all big-eyed and soft, he felt kind of like a cartoon wolf, tongue lolling, heart palpitating wildly, in desperate need of pursuit.
“Are you okay?” Carol asked. Her hand eked out of its cage and softly caressed his head.
“Yes. How about you? Are you smooshed? Did I break you when we tumbled?”
“No, I kind of enjoyed it,” Carol replied.
“You are in desperate need of adventure, woman, if being tackled is your idea of fun,” he said.
“Maybe it’s not the fall so much as the person who fells you,” she suggested.
It took him a second to process that, and then someone stood over them, casting an aggressively long shadow.
“He got away,” Victoria said. Her voice was full of condemnation, or that was how Jones took it. They glanced up at her, squinting. The sun was high and directly behind her back.
“Did you get a look?” Jones asked. He rolled off Carol and put down a hand, helping her up. She tried to tidy all the dusty places, using her hand to brush herself and then Jones.
“He looked like a local. I have no idea if it was my contact, but it confirms what I earlier believed. I must be the one to make contact and complete the mission.”
Reluctantly, Jones agreed. With the appearance of a shooter, his mind confirmed what his gut had been trying to tell him. This mission was too dangerous for Carol. He couldn’t take any more chances with her safety, whether she wanted to or not.
“You can’t,” Carol declared.
At this point everyone seemed prepared to argue with her, but she pointed toward Victoria and continued. “You’ve been shot.”