13
Hunter wasn’t accustomed to being nervous. He was almost a legend among his cadre for being steady in a crisis, for not letting anything from automatic weapons fire to an airstrike thundering around him damage his calm. Which made it all the more appalling that he couldn’t sit still, as every tick of the clock toward eighteen hundred hours seemed to twist his stomach into a tighter knot. The drink Payne had given him hadn’t helped at all, and he thought it was probably a good thing he hadn’t eaten more than a couple of bites of his lunch, because otherwise he’d probably be riding the porcelain pony like a plebe after a three-day bender in Bangkok.
Instead of praying at the altar of St. Crapper, he was attempting to wear holes in Payne’s carpet. He paced a restless circuit from the living room, through the kitchen, up and down the stairs, then back to the living room. Despite the air conditioning, he was sweating, though his mouth was as dry as the desert, and he had to consciously stop himself from the desire to clench his jaw and grind his teeth. Instead he glanced at his watch every few minutes, torn between frustration that the hand was crawling with maddening slowness and horror at how little time there was before he would have to face the encounter he’d been dreading for months.
Some big, tough merc he was. He considered pouring himself another drink, but he figured he’d end up spilling it on himself or gagging.
“Can I get you anything?” Payne asked when Hunter entered the kitchen. He had several thick raw hamburger patties on a plate waiting on the counter, and he was in the middle of slicing some tomatoes.
“No, thanks,” Hunter said. He stood behind Payne, feeling the overwhelming need for contact. Wrapping his arms around Payne, he closed his eyes and rested his cheek against the top of Payne’s head. “Yes. You.”
Payne put down the knife and grabbed a dish towel to wipe off his hands. “You’ve got me,” he said, stroking Hunter’s forearms gently. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“You’d better not,” Hunter growled. “You got me into this, and you have to be here to save me if I go into a meltdown. Or save Jen and Jake, maybe.”
“I will.” Payne leaned against Hunter. “I’ll always be here for you, I promise.”
Hunter would have liked to believe Payne meant the “always” literally rather than as a platitude, but the here and now was what mattered for the moment. “Thanks. Just… promise me if I start to lose it, you’ll think of them first, not me, okay? I can’t bear the thought of hurting them worse than they already have been.”
“I’ll assess the situation and take whatever action I think is best for all involved,” Payne said.
Hunter frowned as he pulled away. “Come on, Payne. Please. Them first. You can scrape me up off the pavement later.”
Payne turned around in Hunter’s arms and tilted his head back so he could look up at Hunter. “As much as I’d love to be a completely objective third party, I’m not,” he said, sliding his arms around Hunter’s waist. “You’re my priority. But okay, if it turns into a shitshow, I’ll take care of them first, especially Jake.”
“Thanks.” Hunter was puzzled why Payne, as protective as he was of those who needed it, seemed to put his welfare above Jen’s and Jake’s, but at least he’d promised. Then the doorbell rang, and Hunter froze, his heart beginning to pound so hard he was afraid it would burst. “No…”
“I know you’re scared, babe, but they love you, and they don’t want to hurt you anymore than you want to hurt them.” Payne stroked Hunter’s back soothingly. “Just take a deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth a few times for me.”
Breathing was difficult, but Hunter did what Payne asked, willing his heartbeat to slow down. He felt the surge of panic subside into mere anxiety. “Okay. What should I do? Where should I go?”
“Do you want me to open the door?” Payne asked, still rubbing Hunter’s back. “If so, you could go out on the deck, and we’ll join you. If you’d like to talk to Jen privately, I can bring Jake back inside to watch cartoons.”
“Sure, the deck is good,” Hunter said. He appreciated what Payne was doing to try to soothe him, but short of hitting him with a massive dose of Valium, he doubted anything would help much. At least there was plenty of air outside, and if he needed to escape, he could run. “Thank you.”
Payne gave him a squeeze and an encouraging smile. “You’ve got this. Just keep breathing, and we’ll be along in a minute.”
With that, he disengaged from the embrace and headed to the front door. Hunter watched him go, then went out onto the deck, moving to the railing and leaning back against it, crossing his arms over his chest. He knew it was a defensive stance, but he couldn’t help it. All he could do now was wait.
A few minutes later, Payne walked outside with Jen, a petite brunette who made him look tall in comparison, and Jake, who was blond like Stack. As soon as she saw Hunter, Jen stopped and stared at him with tears in her eyes and a wobbly smile.
“Hey, Hunter,” she said quietly.
The tears made a knife twist in Hunter’s gut, and before he even knew what he was going to do, he was stepping toward her. But a tiny missile intercepted him, as Jake fearlessly threw himself at Hunter, and Hunter instinctively caught him and lifted him up.
“Unca Hunter!” Jake’s small arms were around Hunter’s neck in a choke hold, but Hunter didn’t mind. The warm weight of Jake in his arms was both painful and precious.
Hunter continued to Jen, wrapping his free arm around her. “Don’t cry,” he said, pulling her close. “I hate it when you cry, and you’ll make me start, too.”
Jen wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him tight enough to hurt, a hiccupping sob escaping her. “I’m happy to see you, so I’ll cry if I want to.”
Hunter closed his eyes, holding them both close, his own eyes stinging and his throat closing up with emotion. He’d feared this, but now they were here, he realized he’d been terrified for nothing. Jen and Jake were all he had left of Mark, and he needed them as much as they needed him.
“Okay, fine, cry,” he murmured. “It’s okay. I’m happy to see you, too.”
Sniffling, Jen buried her face against his chest and clung to him, her shoulders shaking. When she drew back at last, her cheeks were tear-stained, but she smiled up at him.
“You look like crap,” she said.
