Page 51 of Don't Let Go

Instead of standing over me, he pulled up a chair and took the spot opposite my side desk. It let us look at each other while we ate. “I thought about chips,” he said. “Then I remembered when you dumped the Pringles crumbs during that firefight.”

Pringles crumbs?

I paused with my sandwich halfway back to my mouth. Firefight? Pringles… Surprise flickered through me. The moment the memory presented itself, however, I was glad I hadn’t actually taken the bite, I would have choked.

“Thought I’d forgotten that,” McQuade teased. “Hadn’t you?”

“No, I just—I haven’t thought about that in a long time.” Like years, really. “That was our first year working together. Why doyouremember it?”

“You cursed so colorfully and creatively,” McQuade said with a shrug, the amusement still thick in his voice. “You also called me a McQuackadoodle and that lingered.”

My face flamed at the reminder. NowthatI had forgotten. “You were laughing at me.” Not that it was much of a defense.

“Sugar Bear,” he deadpanned. “I was taking fire from three different locations and I still needed to finish the retrieval. I didn’t much care if your keyboard crunched when you typed and you were throwing out directions amidst all the cussing.”

Nose wrinkled, I gave him a helpless little shrug. “To be fair, I was more worried about losing connection with the keyboard or worse, losing sight on you in the middle of that fight. Both could have gotten you killed.”

It was the first time I’d experienced genuine fear for one of my contractors. I took a bite before I let even more information out.

“I’m not complaining, Sugar Bear,” he said, putting a hand on my wrist as I chewed. The light touch trapped me more effectively than a shackle.

Of all of them, McQuade didn’t shy away from touch, or invading my space, or even teasing me about my memory. It was all normalized around him. They were all gentle and caring in their own ways. I loved Remy’s cultured gentleness and Locke’s sophisticated teasing, but I also craved McQuade’s blunt effortlessness.

“I was afraid,” I told him, confessing the long kept secret. “I hadn’t been doing the operator job for long. You were one of my first long-term clients and I thought…you might end up being one of my last if I got you killed.”

I set the sandwich down with my free hand, then retrieved my coffee. Then I turned my wrist under his hand and let the weight of his palm settle against mine.

“The ambush hit when I least expected it—I know now that makes sense and I look for those types of traps, but… I hadn’t really seen that coming then.” They’d caught him in a crossfire while trying to close in on him from behind.

The only available exit for him meant going right between the sides firing at him. He’d have been exposed, the chance for success? Minimal. Every moment he lingered there, the greater the threat to loss of limb if not his life.

“You didn’t show our panic.” The assurance didn’t helpnow, but it did make me smile. “You were so fierce and your cussing so damn heated that it took my mind off the situation.”

“Liar,” I said, though the softness in my voice robbed it of any sting. “You never stop thinking.” Sipping the coffee, I enjoyed the flash of surprise flickering through his expression before he shook his head.

“I think you vastly underestimate your appeal, Sugar Bear. You also didn’t stop thinking. In fact, you were the one who then decided to blow that transformer a block over.”

A kernel of pride fluttered through me and popped like it had just hit the hot oil. “I gambled.”

“You won,” he countered. “What makes you a good operator, what has always made you the best at what you do, is that you don’t stop thinking. You look for solutions that may only have a ten percent chance of working, the bet the odds no one else will see it coming.”

The compliments buoyed me. “You’re just biased.”

McQuade laughed. The sound came right up from his belly and seemed to shake his whole body. It was a vibrant, deep, and masculine sound that threatened to sweep me away.

“Considering how many times that brain of yours has saved my ass? Yes, I’m one hundred percent biased. You are the goddamn best at what you do, Sugar Bear. You got it, you can flaunt it.”

I wanted to roll my eyes and shake it all off. The level of pride in his statements, and the embrace each one offered just added to my embarrassment. At the same time, I treasured every single word.

“Tell me the truth… how many operators did you have before me?” I didn’t want to fish for compliments, but I was genuinely curious. Another swallow of coffee and I tapped two keys on the keyboard to switch the monitors to exterior cameras. A couple of tractor trailers had pulled in out there.

One was parked a few slots down from us. The other was already pulling out. There were two cars on the far side. One a family and the other just a single driver. Looked like they were stopping for a bathroom break. So far, no one appeared to be “working” the information station inside.

I imagined they had a cleaning staff that came out periodically. If we still had company when the guys got back, we’d have to relocate so they could get back aboard with the car without drawing attention.

“Two,” McQuade said and I snapped my attention back to him. “I did one mission each with them. They weren’t my people. Then I got you… third time's the charm.”

“Seriously?”

---