That was debatable, but he bit back the comment. She was already climbing out.
“Chloe.”
She paused, one hand on the car door. “Yeah?”
“We’re going to finish talking about this.”
“About what?”
“You know what.”
Something flickered in her expression. “Focus on the mission, Skeet. That’s what matters right now.”
The door closed and he watched her walk toward the house.
She didn’t look back.
He didn’t know why that hurt.
Don Mueang’s terminal pull-up was chaos when he made it through traffic. The airport’s distinctive curved roof stretched across multiple terminals connected by covered walkways.
Skeet spotted his team before they saw him, emerging from international arrivals with the purposeful stride of people who traveled often and traveled light. Ham’s build made him easy to pick out of a crowd, even in civilian clothes.
North Gunderson followed a half step behind, a grim look on his face. Tall and broad-shouldered, a pastor’s kid before becoming a SEAL, he carried himself with moral certainty that made him both reassuring and intimidating.
West brought up the rear, looking like he’d been dragged away from a beach vacation. Shorter than North but built like a brick house, with an easygoing demeanor that masked his explosives expertise. The Hawaiian shirt and board shorts were pure West, along with the flip-flops that somehow didn’t diminish his capability.
Skeet pulled up to the curb and rolled down the window.
Ham opened the front passenger door, dropped his pack in, and got in. “Skeet.” Ham’s handshake was brief but firm. “Status?”
“Confirmed. Volkov showed up personally two hours ago.”
“Good.”
North got in the back, behind Ham. Skeet caught the worry in his eyes.
“Chloe holding up okay?”
“She’s fine.” The words came out more defensive than intended. “She’s been essential to this operation.”
North raised an eyebrow.
Great.The last thing he needed was his teammates reading anything into this.
West got in behind him. “Bruh. You got a tan.”
He met West’s gaze through the mirror. “Hazard of the job.”
West gave him a smile, but Skeet ignored it.
The drive back to the Airbnb took longer than expected. Rush-hour traffic had settled into its evening rhythm of controlled gridlock. By the time they pulled into the gated residential development, the sun had disappeared behind Bangkok’s skyline.
Skeet parked in the driveway and keyed in the code at the front door. The alarm system should have beeped its warning sequence.
Silence.
His heart thumped. “Chloe?”