“Aye. Ready to get home.”
I opened the door so they could get in. “We have an extra passenger—an aid worker. I’m bringing her back to the US.”
“Copy that.”
That was that.
CHAPTER 9
Kiera Lane
“Kiera?”
No, not yet.
I rubbed my neck and turned toward his chest, wanting a few more minutes of sleep. Or a few more hours, actually.
“Time to wake up, baby. They’re bringing out food.”
I hummed and pulled the blanket higher up. I loved, loved, loved that he’d started calling me baby. First time was yesterday when we’d landed in Turkey.
“You need to eat,” he murmured.
I yawned and blinked sleepily.
Flying commercial sure topped military planes. Good lord, they were not comfortable. And thenoise.
Germany had been the best transfer. Not because I’d been able to take a shower and put on brand-new clothes, but because I’d finally talked to Dad.
“Where are we?” I forced myself to straighten up, and I glanced out the window. “It feels like it should be dark outside.”
“It’s almost four PM,” he replied. “We’re closing in on Boston.”
Jesus. We were landing soon.
Holy crap! I’d see Dad in less than two hours.
My stomach fluttered with nerves, and a big smile lit up my face. After all these months… I couldn’t find the words to describe the rush of feelings. I could let go of the fear and the worries. I mean, I had, in a sense since James had rescued me, but this was so different. We were officially in US airspace.
The food that came around was more like a snack, but I was here for it. The small container included some cheese and crackers, some frilly garnishes, a piece of bread, and a chocolate truffle. I’d gorged on chocolate in Germany, so I placed the truffle on James’s side.
He smirked to himself, then held up a sprig of some herb. “What the fuck is the point of these? And while we’re at it, why do airlines serve the weirdest fucking food? Give me a steak and some potatoes. You don’t have to name it somethin’ fancy. No need to add some weird gel or fermented bullshit or mix berries with my gravy. Keep shit simple.”
I laughed and popped a cube of cheese into my mouth. “You and Dad are really gonna get along.”
He scowled a little and picked more garnish off his crackers. “I’m not sure I like being compared to your old man. Freud would have a field day with that shit.”
He was too cute sometimes.
“Well, you’re roughly the same age… I mean, you’re a little older?—”
His swift look of horror and shock cracked meup!
“I’m kidding!” I laughed. I patted his arm and kissed his shoulder. “I’m kidding. He’s way older. He’s almost sixty.”
“Oh God,” he muttered. “That’s not way older.”
Yeah, true.
