Calls mixed with the roar of engines and tension filling the metal cavern along with the sound of shuffling bodies, some praying, others snoring. Yet his mind was blank. Training, right? Hell, yeah. Not because thoughts of Yasmine Halibiz pissed him off. Made him fighting mad. Spitting fire instead of...
Shit.
Yeah, he believed her. She wanted asylum. She'd probably even convinced herself she felt something for him to justify her actions. But how the hell could he trust her, forgive her? He'd lived in a world of clear-cut routines, precision, right and wrong for too long.
He was better off doing what he did best.
Drew focused on the two aft hatches. One directly beside him. As the colonel, the commander, he would be first out. In charge.
At least here, anyway.
"Stand up," the jumpmaster shouted, his order rippling back.
Focus. Routine. Clear-cut. Drew stood.
"Hook up."
Reaching up, he hooked his lanyard to the static line, which would trigger his chute to deploy on time. He checked the static line. Clean. Straight. Not looped around to rip off an arm when he jumped. He inspected for the man next to him, a routine that mirrored down the row just like the calls. By rote, his hands checked his Kevlar helmet, both buckles.
Focus settling. Hoo-uh.
"One minute."
Shifting, he made his way toward the open hatch, suited and geared up as he had a hundred times before. Eighty pounds of rucksack. Chute weighing thirty-five pounds. Reserve chute adding fifteen more. And he wasn't even carrying near as much as the medic behind him.
Sweat poured down him from the weight and adrenaline. Welcome familiarity. Nothing throwing his world off balance like... >Ah, hell. Monica sighed long. Hard. "Yasmine."
Her sister turned.
"Come on and have a seat with us."
"Is that an order or a request?''
Ungrateful brat. "It's a request."
"Thank you." Yasmine moved with that spooky silent walk of hers and glided into the seat beside Monica. At least she had the sense not to talk.
Crusty tore into another roll, his third. "So, Tiara, what're you going to do after we get out of this shithole—" He paused, glanced at Yasmine. "No offense."
"None taken."
Monica tamped down the irritation over the Tiara comment and answered honestly, "Sleep. For two days straight."
Cancel the divorce proceedings.
Then what? She'd finally given Jack the green light and he hadn't said he loved her back. A man who'd said it so often in the past hadn't dredged up a single word now—much less those important three. Because of the upcoming battle. Had to be. Which still didn't make Jack's omission hurt one damned bit less.
Crusty chewed through his roll. "Hey, Max? You got plans?"
"Darcy and I are going to head out to the beach cabin for a while, get away from the world. We haven't been in the same country together for more than a week in two months. What about you?"
"Disney, dude, for five whole days."
Keagan tossed his napkin on his tray. "A blast for the boys. Take lots of pictures to show us."
"The boys? Sure. But I'm already dreaming about Space Mountain and the food. Oh, baby!"
Monica forced a laugh. The image sounded perfect. Normal. A couple enjoying alone time. A family going on vacation. Something she would have loved growing up and found she actually dared dream about having now.