Top Priority (The Game 1)

“Only good things,” she assured with a big smile. “Charlie and Maxine had their baby.” That was definitely good news. “Charlie called me a while ago, and I want to go over there. These things can’t wait. Why don’t you join us?”

I checked my watch. I was technically only working here part time now, so I could postpone work until later. I wasn’t sure Dad could, though.

“I’ll go see what the meeting’s about,” I told her. “If he’s in there with clients, he’ll have to see the baby later.”

Mom huffed. “Fine.”An hour later, I was sitting in a chair next to Maxine’s bed, and I was holding the tiniest, most precious baby girl I had ever laid eyes on.

Maxine was asleep.

Dad wasn’t here.

Charlie stood by the window, visibly exhausted but happy.

My mother was taking an unreasonable number of pictures.

“She will spoil you rotten,” I whispered to our newest family member. The girl, who didn’t have a name yet, had a tight grip on my index finger, and she blinked drowsily.

“I think it’s Grandma’s turn again.” Mom tucked her camera into her purse.

Just as well. My phone had beeped a couple minutes ago, and I only had sound alerts from one website. A military-oriented online magazine that followed the war closely and posted news several times a day.

After pressing a careful kiss to the baby girl’s forehead, I stood up to switch places with my mother. Then I excused myself from the room to get everyone some coffee across the street. Charlie looked like he could use a double shot of espresso.

On the way down in the elevator, I brought out my phone to check my notification.

“Three US military jets crash in battle with insurgents in northern Iraq.”

My stomach dropped, and I was overwhelmed with nausea as I clicked on the article.

This morning, it was confirmed that three F-16s crashed in the Nineveh province on Wednesday night local time. The Air Force is currently assisting the 101st Airborne in the area—

I abruptly pocketed my phone, unable to read another word, and left the elevator. Oh God. Oh hell. It wasn’t him. There was no way. I scrubbed my hands over my face, then searched unseeingly for the exit. There were too many people around me. I had to get out. I had to find a private place where I could read the rest of the article.

I had to get home.

Coffee. You were going to buy coffee.

I cursed under my breath and stalked out of the hospital, and I jogged across the street to Starbucks.

I didn’t know half of what I ordered, only that I could feed an army with everything I bought. Cookies, coffees, decaf iced tea, juice, and some other shit. Truth be told, I didn’t care. I wasn’t staying. I was going to bring everything up to my mother and the new parents, and then I was getting my ass in a cab.When I finally got home, I rushed toward my bedroom to power up my computer. Mom’s confusion and worry as to why I’d taken off in such a rush would be addressed much later. Now it was time to contact someone else’s mother. I’d had it with the lack of information.

Colt was alive; that was all I knew. The three pilots who’d gone down in the rough terrain of northern Iraq had ejected from the jets before the crash. And what I needed to know now was if Colt, in fact, was even involved in the mess.

I prayed he wasn’t.

Logging in to Facebook, I shrugged out of my jacket and made my way to Colt’s mother’s profile. I sent her a friend request along with a message.

Hello Mrs. Carter,

I don’t think your son has mentioned me, but we’ve grown quite close. Last time we spoke, he told me he wouldn’t be able to contact me for several weeks, and that was no problem until I read about the F-16 crash today. Do you possibly have any information to share? I would really only need to know that he’s okay, though the questions have certainly piled up for months now. Anything you’re willing to divulge, I’d greatly appreciate.

Best regards,

Lucas West

I added my phone number in case she wanted to look me up. I couldn’t blame her if she did.

Then I went back to the hallway to hang up my jacket and get rid of my shoes. When I returned to the bedroom, it was with a bottle of Maker’s, a glass, and the promise that my pizza would be here in twenty.

If I could even eat. After taking a generous swallow of my drink, I sat back in my desk chair and chewed on my thumbnail as if I were still seven years old.

Why was this happening to me? Where was my Little? A kinky soulmate who begged for Daddy? My greatest concern should be work or whether I was attending a private play party on Saturday or going to a club. I shouldn’t be fretting my ass off over a man I’d spent twenty-four hours with.