“You returned from Syria only three days ago,” one reporter said. “Is this how you thought you would be spending your first few days back home?”
Grant laughed and ran his fingers through his short-cropped hair. “No, ma’am, this was not how I expected it to go. Though I will say being in a jail cell is actually a lot more relaxing than chasing after the terrorists and dodging rockets.” That earned him another chuckle from the press.
“What are your plans for the future?” another reporter asked.
“I’m looking to get out of the military, maybe go to college, find a girl, and finally settle down. Definitely spoil Gus.”
The puppy gave a small bark.
“You’ve certainly earned it,” the mayor said, applauding, then she took back the microphone. “We here in Barton want to thank Sergeant Jones for all he’s done for our town and, more importantly, for our country.”
Resisting the urge to gag, Grant leaned over the lectern microphone and said, “Thank you, Mayor, and don’t forget to vote in the upcoming election!” He winked.
The crowd chuckled.
The mayor said with a laugh, “I did not tell him to say that!”
Grant smiled at her and gave her a hug. The press took pictures. Finally, when he had finished shaking hands, the police gave him his bags back.
“Ready to go?” Kate asked him.
Grant yawned.
“I need to take back my rental car,” he told her.
“Already taken care of,” she replied. “Your father has told me to make sure you have everything you need.”
“Is that so?” Grant said and followed her to the BMW. They drove through the small town, out to a private airfield.
I didn’t even know this was here,Grant thought. It was as if a whole other world existed parallel to the one where he had lived in a tiny cinder-block house with his adoptive parents.
“Wow,” he said as they drove right up onto the airstrip. There was a Gulfstream jet, all black, parked on the runway. Grant could tell his mouth was hanging open in surprise, and he shut it but couldn’t keep his eyes from bugging out.
“This is one of the smaller and older of Mr. Holbrook’s—your father’s—planes. He has a fleet. The nicer one is in the shop currently, so unfortunately, we have to take this one.”
“This seems fine to me,” Grant said.
One of the flight attendants, wearing an impeccably tailored suit, descended the staircase.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Holbrook,” he said.
Grant was taken aback. “Oh no, it’s Jones,” he corrected him.
“Of course,” the man said. “My apologies.”
“You’ll be a Holbrook soon,” Kate told him with a smile.
Grant didn’t know what to think about that. He had been Jones his entire life. Except that he had been adopted, so maybe Jones wasn’t really his name and Holbrook was. He shook his head. He was too tired for this. He just wanted to sleep. He followed Kate up the stairs into the plane.
“Good night,” he murmured. The interior of the plane had deep, creamy leather seats. There were black and brass accents on the tables and wall moldings that were punctuated by large round windows. Grant hugged Gus closer to his chest, suddenly self-conscious about his disheveled uniform. His stay in the jail cell hadn’t done it any favors, either.
“Have a seat,” Kate said to him.
“Do you have a towel or anything to sit on?” he asked desperately. He didn’t want to ruin the light-colored leather with his filthy uniform.
She raised a perfect eyebrow and quirked her mouth. He couldn’t help but stare. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He tried to shake off the feeling. It was only because he had been in a war zone for the past eight months, surrounded by the smelliest, nastiest, filthiest Marines that side of the Atlantic. He was just latching onto the first pretty face he saw.
“Would a towel make you more comfortable?” she asked him.
