Like . . . she was some kind of hero. Like . . .
They were freakin’partners.Teammates.
“I brought dinner.”
He hit the landing, breathing hard, and yeah—he had lost all semblance of “everything’s just fine” and “don’t let the team know.”
“Wherewereyou?” The words ripped out of him, and she flinched.
“Getting food. Like I said I would.” She set the bags on the entry table, confusion clear in her voice. “My phone died or I would have texted?—”
“No note. No message. The alarm was off. Sheesh, don’t you know anything about operational accountability? You don’t vanish without a word!”
“Skeet,” Ham said.
Chloe was staring at him. “I was gone less than an hour. The market’s only six blocks away.”
“Six blocks? You walked six blocks alone in Bangkok after dark?”
“It’s a safe neighborhood, and?—”
“Safe?” His voice cracked on the word. “Volkov might know about you. His people could be anywhere. Watching. Waiting.”
The rest of the team had joined him in the entry, but Skeet barely registered their presence.
Chloe looked at them, back at him. “I brought pad thai,” she said quietly. “And mango sticky rice. Your favorite.”
Hisfavorite.
He didn’t know why that word just... just landed in the terrible soft parts that had been aching all day. But...sheesh.She knew his favorite dessert.
And if that didn’t undress him in front of the team, he didn’t know what did.
Silence.
He swallowed back a horrible sense of... embarrassment, maybe.
Someone cleared their throat.
“I thought—” The words suddenly stuck in his throat. He looked away, hung a hand behind his neck.
“You thought what?” she said quietly, but her eyes had lit with a sort of fire.
Yeah, well, him too. He met her gaze, his own hard. “I thought they’d taken you.”
Silence pulsed between them. Behind him, he could hear Ham directing North and West to give them space.
“I’m sorry,” Chloe said, softer than he deserved. “I didn’t think?—”
“Don’t.” He held up a hand. “Just... don’t.”
He needed air. Space. Somewhere to get his head together before he said something that couldn’t be taken back. He pushed past her, out into the night. Closed the front door with more force than necessary. Okay, it was a slam.
The humidity of the Bangkok night hit him like a slap, slicking up an instant sweat. His heart thundered. Walking outto the driveway, he leaned against the car, letting his pulse slow back to something approaching normal. Stared up at the dark sky.
Myanmar.For ten whole seconds, he was right back in that jungle compound, watching everything fall apart because... because he’d been more concerned about the voice on the radio than the massacre happening inside the building.
He’d frozen, and people—children—haddied.