Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
“Are you ready for me to make you squirm again?” I asked.
He chuckled and got more comfortable in his seat. “Shoot.”
“I love you, Jake.”
He smiled, though his gaze never left the highway. “I love you too.”
Jesus fuck, he actually said the words? Was he drunk? A surge of happiness, wistfulness, and pain flowed through me, and I sort of lost my words. The moment was as perfect as it was going to get. It was enough for me to pretend for a minute. That we were much more. Holding hands, fingers locked, his thumb brushing over my own, smiles on our faces, and those three words lingering in the air.
“I should check to see if you have a fever, but I’m just gonna close my eyes and remember this milestone.”
He grinned faintly and gave my hand a squeeze. “Get some sleep. I’ll wake you when we get closer and it’s time to hit up a drive-thru for breakfast.”
Excellent plan.
Was it weird to feel badass when you flew in on a helicopter and landed on a ship out in the middle of the ocean?
Jake and I hurriedly carried our gear off the flight deck and followed Joel inside. He and his team were heading straight for a briefing. We couldn’t attend, but we did get ten minutes with everyone to fit them with bodycams. Three TACLET guys, Joel, one of his fellow team members, and two other crew who would be in the pursuit vessel.
After that, we were shown to our sleeping quarters. Despite that we’d spent a week on this ship mere months ago, it was too easy to get lost in the narrow passageways.
It was also easy to almost drop a camera case on Jake’s head in one of the steep stairwells, which were more like ladders if anyone asked me.
I couldn’t imagine living like this—and so many men and women did. One hundred and eighty days of the freaking year, they were away from their families.
Jake and I didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until we stood in the middle of our tiny quarters and the door closed behind us.
Holy fucking shit, what a morning. What a night.
Twelve hours ago, I’d been getting ready for a country concert. Now I was somewhere off the California coast, and the sun hadn’t come up yet.
With almost no room to move, we slumped down on the bottom bed of our bunk, and I kinda took over. Jake was so tired, but I’d gotten a bit of rest. I dug out the clothes we’d wear today, cargo pants with multiple pockets, tees, and tactical vests. The latter weren’t for anything cool, just to attach gear easier.
We had to be ready at a moment’s notice once the teams were good to go, so it was best to get everything in order before we considered relaxing.
Jake scrubbed his hands over his face and yawned. “I didn’t catch what Joel said about the drones earlier. Did you?”
“They’re deploying them at six fifty-five,” I said. It would be a waiting game after that—though, considering they’d received anonymous information, the search area wasn’t as big as usual. The drones could cover a large sector much quicker than helicopters and ships could. Even better, they were almost impossible to detect.
I got to my feet again, wanting to stow away our personal belongings. We had a small closet to share, where I stuffed our clothes. The narrow strip of a desk next to it became our unloading zone for toiletries and Jake’s smaller camera bag.
In the meantime, Jake stripped down to boxer briefs.
The close proximity did not help.
I placed his cargo pants and hoodie on the bed.
Fuck me, his body was a work of art. Every inch of it, from his fairly defined muscles to the birthmarks and scars. I’d only asked about the gunshot wound near his shoulder, but I was guessing the fainter marks were from…well, life. Kids fell off their bikes, and Marines trained in rough environments.
I could stare at him forever. Instead, I busied myself sorting through our equipment. We’d have bodycams today too, strapped to our shoulders with stabilizers that kept the camera from shaking. They were small, thankfully. We’d nicknamed them “the birds.” It was like having a parakeet on your shoulder.
“Did you pack the Ziploc baggies?” he asked.
“Yeah, right here.” I opened a side pocket in my backpack and handed him a bunch. After I’d fallen into a stream during a Nomads episode, he’d made sure all extra batteries and memory cards were protected.
He should thank my recklessness, if anything.
Once I’d changed clothes too, we were almost ready. I’d repacked Jake’s gear to fit inside a smaller backpack we usually stored laundry in, and we’d just grab our shoulder equipment on the way out.
I sat down next to him again and reattached the Velcro straps of my vest to give me some breathing room.