Chapter Twenty-Five
Chance stepped from the harsh sunlight into the hotel that housed their headquarters, however makeshift as it was.
He ducked under a clear plastic tarp that lined the lobby out, threaded his way behind the front desk, and into the hotel offices that continued to serve as their temporary nerve center for team operations.
The slow progress on the hotel wasn’t likely to make Jared Westin’s mood any better, and what Chance wouldn’t give to be freshly showered and shaved with a good night’s sleep in his own bed under his belt before meeting up with Boss Man.
The job had gone well. But Chance wasn’t oblivious. The way he went about his second re-entry was low on Ace’s list of ways to get a job done.
“Well, look who it is. The renegade.” Jared bounded down the hall, wearing workout shorts and an old shirt that read, ‘When life closes a door, breach the wall and show up like a boss’.
Chance kept his amusement to himself. Boss Man had never seemed the type for small talk—and he’d never been one to stare at a door without blowing through it. “What are you looking at?”
“Nothing,” he growled and nearly ripped the door from its hinges before he stormed in.
Yeah, that’d be a big fat no on small talk with Boss Man. This was going to be a great meeting.
“Get your ass in here,” Jared boomed.
Chance stopped at the door and read a paper sign duct-taped slightly off center.
WARNING
Aces Team Be Like…
Ninjas and Pirates
Lasers and Slingshots
Proceed at your own risk.
“It’s not that interesting.” Jared sounded like a fire-breathing dragon with a bad case of heartburn as he snatched the WARNING notice from the door and threw it onto the floor. “Fuckin’ imbecile children.” He threw the door shut, muttering, “What the hell have I got myself into?”
Yup. This was going to go about as well as surprising Jane at the airport, skipping the key part of his plan—asking her to dinner—so that his surprise appearance closer resembled a creepy stalker who wanted to capitalize on her na?veté.
Chance waited until he was certain Jared wouldn’t toss the table before he sat down at it and looked up.
“What?” Jared barked from across the makeshift war room.
Sorry for forcing the team’s hand in Syria. Wish I could’ve got the nanny out the first time. Chance had nothing that sounded like a conversation opener. “I like your shirt.”
“Shut up.”
Gladly… “About my request to drop back in—”
“That’s what you’re calling it?” Jared crossed his arms. “A request?”
Chance eyed his boss and saw cold eyes paired with a soul so ancient it surpassed Stonehenge. “You have a different phrase?”
Jared’s eyes narrowed. He strode to the table and planted his fists on it like two thunderbolts. “I’d call your request a piss-poor position that you put me in.”
True enough, but it was the only one they had. “I—”
“You could’ve waited.” Jared’s nostrils flared in challenge.
This would be their sticking point. Chance ground his molars. “Waited for what? Her to die?”
“Don’t be a smartass.” He pounded a fist. “You shoulda waited for more intel. For a better route. For goddamn anything where you wouldn’t find yourself skipping rocks through the desert for a girl you want to impress.”
Chance’s jaw dropped. “Wait a minute.”
“You heard me.”
Tension scraped up his neck, and Chance shifted in his chair, positioning so that his boots were underneath him as though he might leap into action.
Jared glared. “You were lucky it worked out in your favor. But get this through your thick skull, I won’t have my orders disobeyed.”
A righteous strain of pissed-off coursed through Chance. “With all due respect, Boss Man. You signed off.”
“You pushed my hand.”
“You’re damn right I did.” Chance rose from his chair and leaned into the table like Jared. They were two muscled-up pit bulls ready to scrap. “I either went back for her then or it wouldn’t matter. The job wouldn’t be a rescue. We’d have a body to recover, and you know it.”
Jared’s jaw flexed. He didn’t disagree, and that was something. If he did, Chance wasn’t sure how well their conversation would continue to go. Not that this one constituted a great chat.
“You know we call you Midas for a reason—”
“You know what?” Chance snapped. “I never asked for that.”
“For fuck’s sake. Stop talking and listen, because one of these days, if you pull shit like that again, it’s gonna catch up with you.”
Chance pressed his knuckles into the table until pain burned into his forearms. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“No one’s invincible.” They silently faced off until Jared pushed away from the table. “I didn’t put you on my payroll because you’re stupid. Don’t do stupid shit again.” He cracked his knuckles. “Do you read me?”
Chance paused and recalled Jane’s retelling of King Midas. Well… hell. He chewed the inside of his mouth and rolled back on his heels. Boss Man wasn’t wrong. Chance took a deep breath and then admitted, “Yeah. I read you loud and clear.”
“Finally.” Jared rounded the table and clapped Chance on the back. “Glad you’re still alive. Don’t cause me any more headaches.”
And that was that. Jared was gone.
Chance arched his eyebrows and turned for the door that Jared had slammed shut on his way out.
Holy mother of adrenaline rushes. He dropped back into his chair and ran a hand over his face. That’d been more intense than he’d expected.
From what he’d heard from others on the team, a slap on the back and a commendation for still breathing was as close to a “good job” as Jared Westin ever gave.
Chance laughed. A huge smile cracked across his face, and with that, he decided today was one hell of a great day. Tomorrow would be even better, because he wouldn’t screw up while trying to impress a girl who’d done nothing but impress him.