Dark of Night by Brockmann Suzanne

Author:Brockmann, Suzanne [Brockmann, Suzanne]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance, General, Fiction
ISBN: 9780345512642
Publisher: Ballantine Books
Published: 2009-01-27T08:00:00+00:00

Tom Paoletti met them at the airport.

Tom, not Decker.

Dave saw him standing there before Sophia did—he was at the bottom of the escalator in the baggage claim area. His arms were crossed and his legs were spread in that fucking obnoxious Navy SEAL stance that Dave had come both to hate and to love—equally passionately. Sometimes it seemed as if everyone he knew at TS Inc. had at one time been a Navy SEAL. Or else they were currently a Navy SEAL.

Everyone except for him.

Which pissed him off because he knew that, in their eyes, it made him subpar.

And at the same time, as infuriatingly cocky as SEALs could be, he loved having them around, watching his six, as they called it.

They could never call anything what it really was—watching his back—when there was a way to say it with either military or nautical jargon. Tom himself was the least obnoxious of the bunch, and he still called the bathroom the head and the floor the deck. Walls were bulkheads and terrorists were tangos and Dave knew from experience that if his boss was in a room with another SEAL, the NavySpeak would fly.

“Paoletti dead ahead,” he murmured to Sophia, who still looked exhausted despite the fact that she'd slept seemingly soundly, almost to the very moment the plane touched down here in California.

“I thought Decker was meeting us,” she said.

Dave nodded, unable to look at her, for fear his sudden wave of jealousy was evident on his face. Fucking Decker. “Yeah, I thought so, too,” he said—far more tightly than he'd intended.

Her patience was fraying, because she exhaled her obvious disgust with him. “I didn't say that I hoped he was meeting us,” she countered, “only that I thought he was. God, Dave.”

Tom was approaching so he couldn't respond with, God, Dave what? or explain that she'd misinterpreted his unhappiness as being somehow linked to Decker, and yes, okay, it was, but only to some degree. The rest of it had to do with Tom—and why their boss himself had chosen to meet them at the airport, rather than sending someone else.

Someone lower down the chain of command.

“Where's your wheelchair, Malkoff?” Tom asked, stepping forward to take Dave's bag off his shoulder. Normally easygoing, the taller man wasn't bothering to hide his displeasure.

“I don't need one, sir,” Dave answered. “And obviously you didn't think I needed one, either, or you'd've been standing in front of the elevators.”

“I was,” Tom informed him, pointing over Sophia's shoulder. “You've been out of the hospital, what is it? Ten hours?”

“I'm fine,” Dave lied, as he turned and …

Yes, all right. Tom had had a clean shot of the lift from where he'd been standing.

Sophia answered the boss's question, “Nine and a half hours. I'm sorry, sir,” she added. “I tried to talk him into using a wheelchair, but… I have to confess that I didn't try very hard. It's been a long couple of days and one can only keep hitting one's head against a wall for a limited amount of time.

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