Coop leaned his head into the aisle to see Jake better. “You gonna tell us what the special occasion is?”
One corner of Jake's mouth rose. “Nope.”
“Ah, come on, Boss,” Derek prodded. “Not even a little hint?”
“Yeah, Jake.” Mac propped herself up on one knee since she was too short to see over the seat in front of her. “How am I supposed to know what dress to wear if I don't know what we're celebrating?”
“The black one,” Coop muttered beside her.
Mac looked at him incredulously. “I have like eight black dresses, Coop. You're gonna have to be a little more specific.”
“You know. The one with the thing that ties in back,” Coop pointed behind his neck.
“The halter dress?”
“Um...sure?”
It was obvious Coop had no idea if that was the correct one or not.
Mac rolled her pretty blue eyes. “Of course you'd say that one.”
“What?” Coop looked up at her, confused. “It looks nice on you.”
With her hands on her tiny hips, she narrowed her eyes at her partner. “Uh, huh. I'm sure it has nothing to do with its low neckline.”
“Is it low?” Coop shook his head innocently. “I hadn't noticed.”
Mac smacked him on the arm and plopped back into her seat.
The guys all chuckled. Even Grant—who was sitting across from Derek—looked as though he wanted to smile.
Derek glanced back over at Mac, who was also wearing a small grin. Not one man on that plane meant any real disrespect toward the small-but-mighty woman, and she knew it.
Mac was like their little sister. Granted, she could out-shoot nearly everyone on the team, but still. There wasn't a man here who wouldn't fight to the death to keep her safe.
They didn't dare tell her that, though.
“As long as it's appropriate for the restaurant, I couldn't give a shit less what you wear,” Jake made his point clear.
“Yeah, y'all know how my wife is,” Trevor piped in. “Lex is pretty laid back about that sort of thing. And since she owns the place”—he grinned—“whatever she says, goes.”
Derek couldn't help but smile back at his friend. Trev and Lex had a rough start, for sure. But, ever since they'd taken out the psychopathic killer who'd come after Lexi, she and Trevor had been living their dream life...together.
A pang of jealousy struck Derek in the chest. Though he'd never admit it to anyone else, he wanted that, too.
Not that he could complain about his life much. Professionally, he'd accomplished everything he set out to do.
He'd gone into the military right out of high school, finished BUD/S—Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training—at age twenty-two, and then spent the next five years fighting for his country.
After that, Jake approached him about taking a position as R.I.S.C.'s technical analyst. It hadn't taken as long as he'd thought to decide to leave his SEAL Team for a new band of brothers.
Working for R.I.S.C. allowed Derek to still do what he was born to do—fight for the ones who needed it and take down those who wished Americans harm—while also having more freedom to have an actual life of his own.
It didn’t hurt that the pay was great. And, when compared to his SEAL ops, the time he got to spend at home was much greater.
Still, something vital was missing. A gaping hole that, most days, Derek managed to ignore.
“I say we bet on what we think the motive is for this elusive dinner tomorrow night. Any takers?”
