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)
Outside the little window, the sky was changing colors to welcome a new day.
The two drones should be out searching by now.
Last couple of things on my list. I tied my boots, and I patted my pockets. First aid kit, gum, my set of batteries and memory cards, folding knife, microfiber cloths, lens cleaner—oh, right. I jumped to my feet once more and reached for my toiletry kit.
“It’s gonna be sunny today, buddy.” I poured some sunscreen in my hand and made quick work of rubbing it into my face and arms. And my neck. Man, had we learned from a mistake or two. The redneck tan was painful.
“Gimme five minutes,” he yawned.
Hell no. He was already lying down, eyes closed, and I knew how quickly he could fall asleep. He was just like my brothers. I swore they did something to people in the Marines. I’d never met one who couldn’t fall asleep in under two minutes.
“Dude, just—” I stepped over the camera cases and didn’t give a flying fuck. I poured more sunscreen in my hand, then bent down and started with his arm.
He chuckled drowsily. “Wonderful service.”
“Don’t get used to it.” I might be nervous, come to think of it. But what he’d said earlier had left a mark. About us not being in the way or causing any problems. Like delays. The second they knocked on our door, I wanted us to be able to just grab our shit and go.
After his arms, I slipped my hands to the back of his neck and wiped the residue of the sunscreen into his skin.
He opened his eyes slowly, as if his eyelids were too heavy, and looked up at me.
I swallowed dryly. Yeah, I was too close to him. Just a few inches. Fuck. I didn’t think sometimes.
“That feels good,” he murmured.
Double fuck.
Was there possibly, maybe, the slightest chance he could…
Motherfucker. No. How many times had I gone down that road?
His dumbass journal entry from almost three years ago tripped me up sometimes. Those three words—attraction, possessiveness, embarrassment—lay in wait in the back of my mind every goddamn day. Striking as soon as Jake didn’t appear uncomfortable when I got close. And how fucked up was that? How desperate did that make me, if I interpreted his lack of discomfort as possible attraction?
No. I’d been more reasonable when I’d deduced that 2013 had simply been a rough year on him. First Vegas, that must’ve overwhelmed him to pieces, and then me getting married and moving out.
Besides, what did it fucking matter? Jake could be out and proud; I’d still made a vow to Sandra. It was bad enough I couldn’t be a man of my word emotionally.
I eased back and returned the sunscreen to my toiletry kit, and then the waiting game began. I climbed up to the top bunk, and before I could even get comfortable, I heard Jake’s light snores. Typical. It amazed me how fast he could fall asleep. He only snored when he lay on his back, which…was most of the time. That was how he normally went down anyway. Then he’d roll to his side at some point later in the night.
I knew too much about how my buddy slept.
An hour went by, and I dozed on and off. I didn’t know if I was dreaming or thinking when I somehow decided I should surprise Cas and Sandra with a trip. April wouldn’t be as busy as planned if we got all the Coast Guard footage in the next few days, and I wanted to get away for a moment with my boy.
Two sharp knocks on the metal door woke me up, and I looked around me, wondering what the fuck… Right. Okay, shit. It was go-time. I sucked in a breath and scrambled off the bed, and Jake opened the door.
A crew member stood there. “TACLET deploys in three minutes, Mr. Denver. Follow me.”
“Yes, sir.” Jake nodded once and grabbed his backpack, and I snatched up our shoulder gear.
This was it. Adrenaline coursed through me, and I felt how my surroundings just faded from my focus. Through the narrow passageways, up one floor, toward the back of the ship, I listened to the guy’s instructions.
“You’ll remain in your seats in the back of the follow-up boat until PO2 Juarez gives you permission to move around,” he said. “You are permitted to film while you are underway, just be prepared to shut down if you are instructed to. Keep in mind you’ll be going thirty-five knots per hour, and it’s windy today.”
Yeah, last time we’d been here, I hadn’t been impressed by those boats, or the speed. But I knew better now. Once you were in a small pursuit vessel, thirty-five knots bouncing across the waves was like the wildest amusement park ride one could imagine.