“Please,” I say, looking at my phone as we take off. Right on time. “You’re all whores. Seriously. Every SEAL I’ve ever met is an active whore. I’m convinced there’s a class on it in BUD/S, like “How To Be A SEAL Whore 101.”
“It’s not 101. That’s an advanced-level course,” he says. “You have to take the prerequisite “How to Identify a Frog Hog” first.”
“I hate you.”
“Don’t hate the player, baby, only hate the game.”
“Hey.” The guy next to me taps my leg. “Your buddy’s right. Sex is good for the soul. I have as much of it as I can. In fact, if you want to get a head start on your weekend, I’m a certified member of the mile-high club—”
In a split second, Butch has unbuckled both of our seatbelts and lifted me over him into the aisle. He pounces into my seat and leans toward the man until he’s an inch from his face. The man’s pressed so hard against the plane wall that I think he might bust through it.
“Put your headphones on and try not to get the back of this hand before we land,” Butch snarls as he raises his enormous hand and holds it right in the guy’s face. “Look at her again and you’re leaving this plane on a stretcher. You understand me?”
The guy nods vigorously as he grabs his headphones from around his neck and slides them over his ears. Butch turns back to me as I slide into the aisle seat.
“You’re retired now,” I say, buckling my seatbelt. “You don’t have to scare people out of their minds anymore.”
“Didn’t I tell you?” he says, patting my leg. “Scaring people is going to be my retirement hobby.”
* * *