So, what would happen if he gave her that call once he wrapped up unfinished business in Guam? Hell, he'd see her twice a year at best.
He wasn't giving up his career and she wasn't budging on hers, either. And then there was that little matter of emotions. His were limited these days, and he knew better than to expect a miraculous personality conversion once he laid his past to rest. He'd always been a loner, even before Eva. Darcy's emotions flowed in abundance. She would grow dissatisfied with his "grumpiness." Fast.
But, man, it would be one helluva ride in the meantime. If only she wouldn't be hurt in the end.
Max could almost hear Darcy's snort of disdain. Egotistical as well as antisocial, huh, chump?
Sit tight. Keep distance and keep quiet.
The bonfire light blotted with a blocking body just before Crusty dropped down beside him, a bag of pretzels clutched in his hand.
"How's it going?" asked one of the least silent people Max had ever met.
"It's all there for you to read in the mandatory reports," Max answered absently, deciding he would keep his answers short and maybe the guy would move on.
He didn't want to discuss work. Not tonight. He wanted to stare at Darcy and tell himself there was a way he could bring her to his bed without bringing chaos to her life.
"You're making progress?"
"What?" Was the guy a mind reader?
"With your search,'' Crusty answered vaguely, his meaning clear all the same.
Oh. Hell. "If you call ruling out negatives progress."
"I do."
Yeah, he wanted this case behind him. Had wanted justice—even revenge—since the day Eva had died. Wanted it for every one of these crewdogs who could be flying over Cantou soon.
Except he'd never before thought-out afterward. Darcy made him consider tomorrow when yesterday still consumed him.
Being in Guam again held a time warp quality. It could have been eight years ago when he and Perry had first arrived. Grad students and new CIA recruits before they'd each chosen different paths—Perry opting for low-level agent status to accommodate family life until they'd been paired again for this mission.
"Drinks, gentlemen?"
Max startled back to the present, looking up at the muumuu-clad waitress, their Army CID contact working undercover as an Officers' Club caterer with her son, in reality a fellow operative of no relation. Nobody would guess Vinnie with his dreadlocks was actually a civilian employee with Army CID, even given that all branches of the military had a large percentage of civilian employees in counterintelligence.
Lieutenant Colonel Kat Lowry held out the tray. "Mai tai?"
"No, thanks." Max lifted his bottled water. "I'm fine."
"Yes, you are, young man." She passed Crusty a coconut cup and a grin as she angled closer to Max. "I didn't expect to see you here tonight. Nice reports. You're shaping up, sweetie."
Max pulled a tight smile.
She patted his cheek. Then straightened to flutter a wave. "Be good, boys."
Crusty winked. "Oh, I'm always good."
Lieutenant Colonel Lowry smoothed Crusty's rumpled hair as she sashayed past toward the next customer.
Crusty guzzled from his cup, his gaze fixed on Darcy laughing with Bronco as the big guy whipped out his key chain and flashed a dangling photo. "How many places do you think he can store pictures?"
Max watched Darcy stroke a finger along the plastic-covered photo. Damn it, she should have her own pack of family portraits.
His kid would have been almost two now.
The thought scratched at his insides like the broken shells under his legs. Max tipped back his water and forced himself to swallow.