“He’s two cars back.”
“Copy that. Let me know when we are clear,” Saxon hit the off button. He slammed his fist off the steering wheel. “I don’t fucking like this, Rick.”
“Me either.” There was no way was he going to disagree. “But even with your people and mine, along with six other agencies, across multiple countries and a couple of continents, we still have no clue where Joe is, or even who has him. I have to go.”
“He could be dead already.”
“Yup, he could be.” Rick understood why Saxon was whining. Hell, he wanted to whine too. More than anything, he wanted to go off somewhere with no people, where they could just take time for themselves and figure shit out. But nope here he was, heading to a meeting with assholes, like a freaking undercover cop on a crappy TV show. “I’ll be fine, you’ll come for me.” He rubbed the palm of one hand over the shoulder of the other. “It’s why you chipped me like a wayward hound.”
“Hey, I have one too.” Saxon told him. “All of us do.”
“Maybe you should be called Bauer’s wolf pack instead of Red Squadron.”
“Nope,” Saxon took the exit he needed and flipped off the indicator. “We’re a tribe, not a wolf pack.” Saxon was referring to the Native American figure on Red Squadron’s Patch.
“That works too.”
“Sleep a little,” Saxon told him. “It’s about two more hours to Naples. You don’t know when you’ll next get to sleep with someone watching your six.”
“I’d rather talk.”
“I’m not going anywhere, R.” Saxon glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, not daring to take his eyes off the road for longer. “We can talk when we get this job done.”
“Um.”
“I swear it,” Saxon promised. “When it’s done, we’ll talk.” Not that he had a fucking clue what he wanted to say. He knew jack shit about being exclusive, or how that would work. But one thing he’d learned over the last two years was if there was a will there was a way. He just knew that being with Rick settled something inside him. Like some sort of puzzle piece which he had been missing all along. Argh, he could turn it over a million ways and never be able to explain it. They’d figure it out. He hoped.
“M’kay.” Rick pulled the lever on the seat, lowering it back. Keeping the seatbelt on, he reclined enough that he could shut his eyes and get some Z’s.
Chapter Eleven
“Fuck,”Saxon jumped when a hand landed on his thigh, fingers gripping the material of his camo. Horns blared, and drivers swore in their cars. He could see the furious hand gestures though the window as he fought with the steering wheel to avoid hitting the car next to him.
“Bravo Three, Bravo One,”Roman called him over coms,“You good?”
Oh, freaking fabulous, of course they had to see that. “Just fucking dandy, Bravo One.”
“Then why the fuck is your truck trying to hitch a ride on the hood of a smart car?”
“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Bravo One, I just lost my concentration.”Ah, what did you say that for? Dumbass.
“Bravo Three, you better not be gettin’ a blow job.”Roman bitched at him.“Concentrate, damn it.”
Saxon could feel the heat climbing up his neck. “Respectfully, Bravo One, fuck off.”
You’re a stupid fuck, Berg, keep your damn mouth shut.
“Huh?” Rick’s eyes blinked open, “Need me?”
Always.
“Go back to sleep, you’ve got another half an hour.” Now that he was back in his own lane, Saxon took one hand off the wheel and covered Rick’s, squeezing his fingers lightly. “Just Rome giving me shit is all.”
“Teammates and brothers can be assholes,” Rick agreed. “We gotta keep them and we’re not allowed to shoot them.”
“Shh, sleep.”
“K.” Rick whispered, his voice husky. “Sax?”
