That wasn't the entire truth, but I had no desire to share the details of my pre-dawn hours in bed with April. It'd been rough and punishing, and we'd fallen asleep in a tangled pile of limbs and linens. When I woke hours later, April—and her Glauca B1—was gone. My apartment was a wreckage of broken furniture and home goods, and a trail of blood on the hardwood floors, walls, and linens charted our movements.
"Don't knowmeaning she has another contract?" Will asked. "Or meaning the era of Cupcake has ended?"
I narrowed my eyes at him. "I was her mark," I said with an uncomfortable laugh. "How can the era of Cupcake continue?"
"Ahhh," he replied, brushing aside my objection. "You said it yourself. She stole information from Renner and wherever-the-fuck-else to help us, and then kicked your ass. You keep that kind of chick around for the long haul. Marry her."
"I'll take that under consideration," I said, pulling my phone from my pocket to avoid catching Will's eyes. I was too raw to continue discussing this, and didn't have room for suggestions of marriage, no matter how mild.
"Seeing as we've gotten to the bottom of our crises, and the Navy will be supporting our next rescue attempt in Venezuela, it's time for you to take some time off," Will said. He held up his hand as I started to object. "I know how you are. I know you can't unplug completely, and I'm not asking that."
"When did you turn into such a tenderhearted bastard?" I asked.
He flipped me off. "Get your ass back to Montauk, and don't make me call in Mama Trish for backup."
