Chapter 2

2

“Gravy,” Jason said, bracing himself for whatever chaos was about to unfold. “What’s up? Please tell me you haven’t doused anybody lately.”

As he listened, Jason regarded the familiar landscape. He stood in the shade of a towering pine, the majestic Sierra Nevada rising like a jagged wall in the background. Below, the small town of Lone Pine nestled in the valley, surrounded by scattered ranches. This was the place he’d called home his entire life, the place that would be his nieces and nephew’s home. His friends’ home. Maybe even a place for a family of his own someday ...

He pushed the thought aside.

Hard, sharp breaths assaulted his ears. “Major? I didn’t know who else to call. It’s my dad—he’s missing. He told me to call you. And there’s this number, and coordinates, and I’m supposed to go alone, but I’m scared, man. I’m really scared.”

The panicked voice on the other end sent Jason’s senses into high alert. Gone was the stammering, clumsy kid he remembered. This Robbie sounded like a man on the edge.

“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” Jason interrupted, his mind racing to keep up. “Start from the beginning. Your dad’s missing?”

“M-major, man, it’s crazy. Like, two weeks ago, my dad gives me this phone, right? One of those cheapo burners you see on TV shows. And he’s all serious, which, you know, is pretty normal for the old man, but this was different.”

Jason could practically hear Robbie fidgeting on the other end of the line. “Go on, Gravy. What happened next?”

“So he says, ‘Son,’” Robbie’s voice dropped in a poor imitation of his father’s, “‘if I ever text you ‘Never bet an inside straight,’ you call the number in this phone and you do what they say. No questions asked. Your life could depend on it.’ And I’m like, whatever, Dad. I don’t even play poker!”

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. “Focus, Gravy. What happened today?”

“Right, sorry. So, um, this morning, I get that text. ‘Never bet an inside straight.’ And I’m thinking, is this some weird dad joke? I mean, my old man’s not exactly a jokey dude, but you know, people change. Anyway, then I remembered the phone. Took me forever to find it, by the way. Did you know socks can, like, eat things?”

“Gravy,” Jason said, his patience wearing thin. “The phone call. What happened when you called the number?”

“Oh! Yeah, so I called, and this voice answers. All gruff and stuff. Kind of like a machine voice. Tells me to be at these coordinates in four hours. Bring nothing. No phone, no luggage, nada. Just show up if I wanna live.” Robbie’s voice cracked. “Who even says that? Oh, and my dad also told me to contact you. Said you’d help me get to these folks or whatever. I forgot that part.”

Robbie’s father, Robert Munsinger II, was a brigadier general. Last Jason heard, he was assigned to the National Military Command Center. One-stars didn’t go missing. Especially not high-up Pentagon appointees.

And they didn’t warn their kids to expect danger … unless they were dead serious.

“So, let me get this straight,” Jason said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Your dad vanished, left instructions to call me and some cryptic number, and now you’re supposed to meet some strangers in the middle of nowhere?”

“Yup, that’s about it,” Robbie replied, his voice small. “Will you help me, Major? Please? I’ve got to be there in four hours. That’s two hours flight time from my place in Boise. You’re still a pilot and everything, right? If you flew up, we could make the deadline.”

Jason groaned, already knowing he was going to regret this. But the fear in Robbie’s voice was real. Despite the kid’s penchant for disaster, Jason couldn’t ignore a cry for help. Especially if it was backed up by a one-star’s recommendation.

And, he had to admit, he was bored out of his mind anyway.

He didn’t really know Gravy’s father, had only met him once during the struggle to get Gravy into rehab, but if the general thought well enough of him to tell Gravy to count on him, he was all in.

“Alright, Gravy. Sit tight. I’m on my way.”

As he ended the call, Jason caught sight of Bridger and Tai emerging from the house, their expressions a mix of concern and curiosity. He sighed, knowing the next conversation wasn’t going to be any easier than the last.

Time to face the music and explain why he was about to dash off on another solo mission. At least this time he had a valid excuse.

“Everything okay?” Bridger asked, his eyes narrowing as he took in Jason’s tense posture.

Jason ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve got to go. I’m taking the Pilatus.” Depending on where Gravy needed to go, his beloved P51 wouldn’t have the range, plus the sleek new turbo prop was way speedier.

“Alone?” Tai’s deep voice held a note of disapproval.

“It’s just a quick pickup and delivery. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Bridger crossed his arms, his jaw set in a stubborn line. “Jane needs you here. So do I. So does the rest of the team.”

“We’re just getting used to having you back,” Tai added, his usually stoic expression softening. He gestured at Jason’s wrinkled tee. “Your fashion choices take a while to sink in. Know what I mean?”

Jason’s shoulders sagged. They were right, of course. After years of running solo, being part of a family again was an adjustment. For all of them.

But some habits die hard.

“I know. And I promise, I’m not disappearing again. This is just a small favor for an old friend. How hard could it be to ferry one clumsy oaf to safety?”

Tai nodded. “Copy that. I mean, come on. The guy’s call sign is a condiment.”

Bridger snorted, clearly unconvinced. “With your luck? I’d say the odds are pretty high for an international incident.”

Jason grinned, already heading for the house. “Then it’s a good thing I’ve got you guys to bail me out. Now, let me grab some of that lasagna before I go. Can’t save the day on an empty stomach.”

As he jogged up the steps, Jason couldn’t shake the feeling that this “small favor” was about to become anything but simple. Still, compared to taking on Seven-Five, how bad could it be? At least this time, he had a team to come back to. A family.

He paused at the door, the familiar tightness creeping up his neck. In his world, “simple” was just another word for “buckle up, it’s going to be a wild ride.”