Wingman Warriors - Joint Forces Part 25

he'd forgotten about going to his father at that time until just now.

Other talks with his dad s.h.i.+fted around in J.T.'s head. Short exchanges, sure. His parents were just as closemouthed as he was, but they made their words count.

Had he done the same? "You don't have to go to school today."

"Yeah, I think I do have to go."

His son was becoming a man. "Okay, then." The kid was probably safer there than at home, anyway.

"But remember, you can call me if you have any problems. I'll be there in minutes."

"Thanks, but I'm okay." He pushed away from the counter and started toward the door.

Make the words count. "Son?"

Chris turned. "Yeah?"

"Love ya." J.T. hooked his arm around Chris's neck and pulled him in for a hug.

His son hugged back. Thumping. Rena would have laughed over the fact that men had to hit while they

were hugging, but hey, guys understood the lingo.

Thunking his son once more on the back, J.T. pulled away. "And you're still grounded 'til the end of time."

Grinning, Chris shrugged, baggy clothes rippling. "I figured as much."

"Go grab your backpack and I'll see what's keeping your mother."

Scooping a m.u.f.fin off the counter for his wife, J.T. hoped the upcoming talk with Rena could go even half

as well as the one with his son, simple, low-key. Otherwise, they were all screwed.

She was so screwed.

Inching back from the kitchen door, Rena steadied her steps if not her pulse. The image of father and

son, standing together, white athletic socks on crossed feet side by side, squeezed all those pregnancy emotions until she could barely breathe. Watching J.T. and Chris in sync like that was ... perfect, the family she'd always wanted.

Well, without bricks flying through her window.

The fear from the night before quivered through her again. Followed by the oh so vividly red memories of how she'd escaped that fear. Slumping against the wall by a wrought-iron plant stand, she let herself enjoy looking at J.T. Waking up alone had been disappointing. But then she'd realized J.T. probably couldn't have woken her anyway, as deeply as she slept. She'd squelched down hurt, forced herself to think clearly. He was being considerate by letting her sleep.

Quit thinking with her hormones and start using her brain or she'd never get through this with her heart intact. But oh, as she stared at J.T., freshly showered and shaved in his flight suit, strong jaw and handsome face that only grew more appealing with age, her emotions did so want control over her.

She'd always enjoyed J.T.'s body; however that body became all the more tempting when the man inside was being so incredible. Of course, he'd always loved his children, been active in their care, took his turn walking the floor. But the talking? He'd left that up to her.

Until now.

Seeing him become the father she'd always known he could be made her wonder what their lives would

have been like had he shared some of that openness with her over the years. She'd lost count of all the arguments and reconciliation talks-actually mostly her talking. And even if he was talking now, too, was it realistic to expect they could patch this up themselves?

This possibility of reconciliation screamed, "last chance." Which meant going for broke on the fix with the one thing they'd never tried.

Marital counseling.

How strange that she of all people should be scared of the prospect. Scared of what she would hear.

Could that be why she'd avoided it?

G.o.d knows, J.T. wouldn't want to go. Even laid-back Bo dragged his boots at the prospect of spilling his guts and having his brain picked. h.e.l.l, she was frightened to her roots just thinking about it, too. But the more she considered the idea, the more certain she became that this offered their only hope.

Of course, that meant delaying any talk for a while longer, waiting for the perfect time rather than some car discussion to and from work. Logical, right?

Not a scared-as-h.e.l.l stall tactic.

She entered the kitchen before they could come out into the hall and realize she'd been watching them.

"Hey, guys. I'm ready anytime."

Chris's gaze ping-ponged from one parent to the other. "Uh, I gotta get something from upstairs."

He angled past and out before she could even hug him.

Rena stopped by the table, couldn't move anyhow. Facing J.T. after making love shouldn't be this ...

tummy flipping. Exciting. Scary. Much like after their true first time when she realized what they'd done

changed everything.

Except after the real first time, he'd held her, kissed her. d.a.m.n it, if she couldn't have the holding, she at least wanted her morning-after kiss.

"Hi," she said softly, words suddenly drying up.

"Hi back." J.T. smiled, extending one hand with a m.u.f.fin, the other with a gla.s.s of milk. "Breakfast? I was going to bring it up to you."

Emotions squeezed tighter.

He leaned down over the chair between them while she moved closer and, yes, she had her

good-morning kiss even if he couldn't touch her, the chair between them and his hands full of her

breakfast. And how sweet was that?

His lips moved over her with a firm, deep, slow kiss as if they had nowhere to go, no real world concerns. A kiss, right in the room where they'd enjoyed a hot encounter after his return from Guam when there had been plenty of s.e.x but, heartbreakingly, no kissing.

His tongue coaxed her lips open, swept inside, connected, explored, sending her tummy into a flat spin.

Then he kept right on kissing her so she couldn't say something that would mess this up, and G.o.d, but she was relieved.

With a final skim of his lips over hers, he stepped back. "I need to grab my boots and change patches." He placed her m.u.f.fin and milk on the table. "Be back in a few and then we can leave once you're dressed."

Watching him stride into the garage where they'd made such pa.s.sionate love the night before, she reminded herself that she had kisses back. That was a positive step. And now she knew what to do to keep them once they both finished their half day at work.

She also knew how hard her reticent husband would resist her solution. Which scared her all the more because this was it. Their last chance.

J.T.'s words echoed through her mind. Anyone can be brave when the odds are in your favor. It's what you do when you're scared that's the true measure of courage.

She sunk into the chair. Great.

With the way odds were stacked against her, her bravery points must be off the charts.

J.T. stood to the side while Spike clicked through the cipher lock at the OSI building. The opening door -thick metal like a safe-hissed with the release of air from the area sealed tight for soundproofing.

He followed Spike through security, down halls and past a mix of workers in uniforms and civilian clothes -the heart of military counterintelligence keeping base personnel clean. He hated like h.e.l.l that anyone around him might have a part in drug trafficking.

At least he had the connections here to learn the worst his son could face.

Spike swung a door open to a small interrogation room, spa.r.s.e, stark and a h.e.l.luva lot less dirty and dark than its counterpart in Rubistan. They'd already exchanged the basic info on Chris's situation out in Spike's office before the OSI agent had gone silent, then suggested they take the rest of the conversation to a more secure part of the building.

J.T. dropped into one of the unrelenting chairs in the windowless room in a completely windowless building. "Thanks again for coming in early after pulling an all-nighter."

"No problem." Spike sat across from him, coffee cup in hand, dark circles of sleeplessness lining sharp, clear eyes. "Had to come in anyway after how things shook down last night."

"I'll take that as a good sign." J.T. downed the dregs of his java, his fourth cup of the day.

"You'd be right." Spike tipped back his coffee. "DEA cameras confirmed the boats were picking up the drugs and coming back clean. Until last night, we couldn't figure out how they were offloading the drugs. Turns out, they were packaging up the stuff and placing it in the shrimper nets. They cast the net out, but with the webbing loose on one side so the drugs drop into the harbor. Net comes back empty. Looks like a bad throw to the casual observer. They repair the net and keep right on trawling for the rest of the day-or in this case, evening."

"And how's the exchange made?"

"We're still tracking that, but we're pretty certain a small underwater craft, minisub, retrieves it and runs it up the coast. It's freaking genius when you think about it. Without this tip-off, who the h.e.l.l knows how long it would have taken us to figure it out? Now we just need to pinpoint who's receiving on the other end. We've already connected two independent shrimpers and a market here. We expect more to fall."

"And do you think this ties in to what Chris saw?"

"Could be. Based on your message, I made a few calls before you got here. The young woman, Miranda Casale, has already been picked up for questioning. Everyone at the restaurant will be questioned sometime today. A lot of base kids work at that place. Could be coincidental. Could be someone looking for a new contact. With any luck, that common symbol on the b.u.mper sticker, the brick and the girl's necklace will lock in the final connection."

J.T. nodded, crumpling the disposable cup in his fist. These b.a.s.t.a.r.ds had come after his wife and kid. He hoped they fried. His job might have brought stress to his home life, but at the moment he couldn't help being d.a.m.n glad he'd played a part in bringing down sc.u.m like these.

Spike placed his cup on the table. "Hey, dude, no matter how this shakes down, you're going to be okay and your son's going to be okay. Chris stepped up in time. Plenty of military kids get in trouble-just like anybody else's kids. He gave us a heads up on another lead. He's a good kid who got stuck in a bad situation."

"Thanks for looking out for him."

Memories of those days in a Rubistanian cell hummed in the air, whispers of the minor victory they'd all silently celebrated by diverting their captors enough to buy Spike an extra couple of hours before his round of questioning.

Now the time had come for J.T. to buy some of that time for his family. To keep the heat off them until the threat pa.s.sed.

Spike smiled. "Hey, dude, it's what we do for each other." He drained his coffee and stood. "Your part's finished here. Go home and hang with your family."

Chapter 14.