He scowled. Definitely River. “Fuck you, Hyatt.”
I grinned. “That’s the second time I’ve heard that in two minutes.”
“Well deserved, I bet,” he muttered. “What’re you doing out here?”
“Waiting,” I replied. “You here to see Shay?” His partner. Hillcroft’s own martial arts instructor.
“No, I’m here because Darius won’t sit his ass on a plane and fly out,” he answered. “He asked me to go to a briefing because Shira won’t allow him to attend via link.”
Made sense, though. “Security level’s still elevated,” I said. “I presume it’ll stay that way until y’all take out the Iraqi threat.”
He nodded with a dip of his chin. “You seen Beckett anywhere?”
I jerked a thumb over my shoulder just as I spotted Kiera climbing out of an Uber outside. I gave her twenty seconds to cross the plaza. “Cafeteria.”
“All right, thanks. You…look like a dog who just spotted their owner holding a treat.” Asshole Tenley followed my gaze, then lifted his brows at me. “Is James Hyatt datin’?”
I shot him a quick glare. “Are you still here? You know I like you better when you’re quiet.”
He nodded. “I always appreciated that about you. You were the one person—and Darius, I guess—who never bitched about how little I talked.”
“And now you’re what, makin’ up for lost time?”
He smiled. “When Reese isn’t here to fill the silence, I have to do my own diggin’.”
I snorted. “Enjoy your briefing, Tenley.”
“I hope they have donuts.” He walked off.
Donuts? Un-fucking-likely for Shira’s briefings. More like…protein bars and some weird-ass water with chunks of shit in it. Aloe vera or whatever it was. Something that didn’t fucking belong in water.
I traced every step Kiera took, and fucking hell, she was gorgeous. She had her dark hair up in a messy do, a bit of makeup that she didn’t need, tight jeans, and an oversized button-down with a belt.
It made me wanna see her in one of my own button-downs. And nothing else.
I owned precisely two of those shirts, and one was reserved for funerals. I had a few more flannels, but the rest were tees, hoodies, and Henleys. Standard wear for walking around at Hillcroft—oh, and utility pants with multiple pockets. God forbid I came to work in jeans. Someone would bitch at me.
Consultants and freelancers could wear jeans. Operators had a damn dress code for when we were at HQ.
Yeah, it was an issue I had raised with the bosses a few times.
At long last, Kiera came through the doors, and her smile widened.
“Hi, pilot.”
Christ, the way she made me feel.
“Hey, hellcat.” I smiled back and pointed to my feet, silently telling her to get here already. I’d missed her. I’d been robbed of a proper goodbye at the airport yesterday, and I hadn’t been happy. “I have a bone to pick with you.”
“Oh yeah?” She came over, and she was officially within reach.
I tugged her flush to my body and rested a hand along her lower back. “I slept like shit last night. It’s your fault.”
Her grin turned flirty, but I didn’t miss the relief that flitted across her beautiful face. “How’s it my fault?”
I leaned down, maybe an inch from her pouty lips. “You weren’t there.”
She exhaled a laugh and slipped her hands up my chest. “How awful of me.”
