11. John

CHAPTER 11

JOHN

The next morning, Brent and I drove to PDX to catch a flight to San Francisco after his early morning meeting. As he drove, a sports radio talk show host went on about the losses in personnel the Pirates had endured, along with the potential retirement of Alex Hayes.

"Are you a Pirates fan?"

Brent smiled over at me, his aviators making him look hot as fuck. "I wasn't until I got here. We work for Greer sometimes, and now that he and Austin and married, I bet we do it more."

I looked out the window. "I'm a SunRays fan."

"Better not tell the boss that."

I huffed. "My daughter works for them. In social media."

He was quiet for a long moment. "I didn't know you were a dad."

"Surprising, I know. Her mother and I never married. She didn't want the military life."

"How old is she?"

"Twenty-four going on thirty."

I watched Brent smile out of the corner of my eye.

"What does that mean?"

I chuckled, thinking about her advice. "She knows what's best for her and me. She's my best friend."

When we were stopped at a light, Brent looked my way. "It must be nice to have a close relationship with your kid. You've always got someone in your corner."

There were so many red flags pinging in my head. My degree in psychology had almost taken me down the path to becoming an intelligence profiler, but the SEALs had won out.

"It is," I said holding his gaze. "Laura is amazing. Beautiful and smart as a whip. Has no problem telling me what she thinks. Tells it like it is."

"Sounds familiar," he teased as he drove on. "What's the last thing she told you?"

I shifted, wanting to see his face when I answered him. "She told me to take the job here. And to find what made me happy."

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. "And you think whatever that is, is here in Portland?"

I smiled at him, then looked out the front window. "I know it is."

We listened to the radio the rest of the way until he pulled in and parked in the hourly parking lot. Climbing out of the Tahoe, I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder. He locked the doors, and we walked side by side to the terminal.

Once we were checked in, we headed toward TSA to go through security. I had TSA Pre-Check, but I didn't know if he did. So I pulled out my wallet and retrieved my military ID to hand over.

The security officer looked up and nodded his head. "Thank you for your service, Commander Langdon."

I smiled and nodded. "Thank you. Yours too."

The man smiled appreciatively as I deposited my bag in the plastic bin for the scanner.

When I was through security, I waited as Brent finished up before heading to our gate. Our conversation had been limited since the car, and I needed to change that. So when we found seats at the gate, I struck up a conversation with him.

"Ever been to San Francisco?" Lame. Just lame. I sucked at small talk.

Brent grinned at me. "Yes. Have you?"

I nodded. "Yep. But never to the Castro."

"You're going to love it. There is some fun as hell clubs we can go to."

I nodded. "As much fun as the one in Vegas?"

He stared at me a moment, then smiled. "I'm sure we can find out. If you're up for that."

"Depends on if you understand who you're going home with."

Did I just fucking say that? Was I going to get into this here and now at the goddamn gate?

Brent looked over at me as I stared him down. I refused to show anything but confidence to him because somewhere deep down, I knew he needed me to be strong. Liked it even.

"I'm assuming that's you. Right?"

"Exactly."

His smile widened, and I could hear my heart beat in my ears. "What do you remember about Vegas?"

He sat back and propped his left ankle over his right knee. He was the picture of relaxation. "What do you mean?"

"What do you remember about that night?"

He licked his lips and nodded. "The truck. I definitely remember the truck."

"Do you remember what happened after that?"

He let out a breath and ran his fingers over his lips. "We went back in to dance. And got another drink."

"Yes, that's right. Do you remember stripping out of your pants on the dance floor?"

He laughed. "We must not have gotten arrested, because we didn't wake up in jail."

I smiled. "No, we didn't. When the bouncer headed our way, I pinched the fuck out of your leg and told him something had bitten you. Thought it was a scorpion."

He burst out laughing. "That's how I got that bruise! I thought it was from the truck."

"Nope. It was me. Do you usually get that drunk when you go out?"

He shook his head. "No. But I hadn't been feeling good, so I took some cold medicine before we left the room. I wasn't going to waste an epic night feeling like crap."

Shifting in his seat, he furrowed his brow as he looked at me. "John, why do you keep asking me about Vegas? Did I do something or get myself in trouble that I don't remember?"

I couldn't lie to him. "We definitely did something. No trouble, or anything like that."

Brent's smile fell away as he looked at me. "What did we do?"

Right as I started to tell him, our flight was called for boarding. I stood, ready to board when priority boarding for military members was called, but Brent caught me by the arm.

"That's why you're here in Portland, isn't it? What did we do, John?"

I looked him in the eye, then leaned closer. "Let's board and I'll tell you everything."

I walked away from him toward the gate, hoping he was following me. The attendant scanned my boarding pass and I walked on, stopping before I entered the jetway to find him.

I watched as he charmed the gate attendant with that heartbreaking smile, then walked toward me. He motioned for me to go on, so I proceeded toward the plane. We found our seats in 1A and 1B and stowed our bags in the overhead compartment. When we were seated, Brent leaned closer.

"Tell me we didn't do something really stupid."

I shrugged. "Depends on what you consider stupid. I wouldn't say it was stupid. I'd like to think it was supposed to happen."

Brent considered my words, then froze in his seat. "We didn't."

I smiled and kissed his cheek. "Oh, we did, sweetheart. You're a married man, Mr. Langdon."