"We demand our rights under the Geneva Convent—"
A rifle butt landed on Scorch's jaw.
The aircraft commander slammed against the wall. Blood spurted into his sand-caked mustache.
J.T. winced. But the foreign soldier reacted as expected. He shifted his attention from Spike to Scorch and hauled him off instead.
A minor victory, establishing some control over their situation.
The remaining soldiers led them away, separating them. J.T. watched until the last one faded … from … sight.
J.T. stared out into the dark void of the night sky. Empty. He closed up the hatch along with his memories. "All jumpers clear," he called into his headset. "Door secure."
J.T. strode back up the steel cavern to his station, the instrument panel and seat situated below the cockpit. Their part was done. He'd be home soon. Where his wife waited, something he hadn't fully appreciated until he'd screwed up his life.
He thought about fishing out his book, but found himself staring up at the tangle of cables tracking the ceiling instead. Right now, he wanted to pass out in his own bed with his own wife, against her soft body. Wake up and lose himself in her body.
Not gonna happen, of course.
But he would be across the hall. He was back in the house. Progress in regaining his world.
And not being stuck in a cell in some foreign freaking country.
Two hours later, he turned the corner onto his street to find police cars lining the curb. Foreboding gripped his gut in an icy, unrelenting fist. He threw open the door of his truck, boots pounding up the driveway, across the yard, just as hard and fast as when he'd run across the Rubistanian desert, raced to Rena in the wrecked car.
Control over his world shattered in more pieces than his living-room window.
Rena held on to her composure—barely—for once thankful her aching foot offered an excuse to sit in the overstuffed chair rather than stand.
She faced the two police officers in her living room, alone, except for an over-pale teenager shuffling his feet by the piano. She could do this by herself, but damn it, she didn't want to. She wanted to lean on her husband while he leaned on her.
And when this bizarre night ended, she wanted to crawl into the strength of his arms, lay her head on the breadth of his chest and listen to his steady heat thrum under her ear. She wanted him to tell her everything would be fine. It was just coincidence that Chris's car had been hit and a rock pitched through their window all in the span of two weeks.
She needed to hear that their son wasn't mixed up in something bad like her every parental instinct was screaming.
Hell, who was she kidding? She just flat out wanted J.T. with her.
And as if he'd somehow heard her, her husband plowed through the front door. Intense. Focused.
On her.
He stalked straight to her chair, ignoring everyone else in the room. Dropping to his knees in front of her, he clasped her by the shoulders, firm, solid. "Is everyone all right? Are you all right?"
His concern pulsed into her, soothing and exciting all at once. "I'm fine. Someone threw a brick through the window. A scary way to wake up, but nothing overly dangerous. I just thought it was important to report it to the police."
His gaze fell to the splash of glass glinting on the floor, to the harsh gouge in the wood inches away from the couch, then up at her rumpled blanket and pillows. "You were asleep in here when it happened?"
She nodded. Only a few hours ago she'd nestled into those pillows with plans to show J.T. the ultrasound photo.
His fingers bit into her skin. She struggled not to flinch and up his concerns.
"But I'm fine. Really. I wouldn't lie about this, not when it comes to the baby."
Jaw still tight, J.T. stood, turning to Chris. "Son, are you okay?"
"Yes, sir." Chris fidgeted from foot to foot, his baggy clothes rippling with every agitated move. "I was on my way home from work. I would have been home sooner but there was a backup on the bridge. God, Mom, I'm so sorry I wasn't here. Maybe I could have done something."
Horror splashed through her. "You would have stayed right here in this house with me while we called the police." She couldn't even let herself dwell on what could have happened to him out there. "No more Price heroes for me this year, thank you very much."