Those two words had been buzzing in Cash’s head for the past seven hours, and he was so anxious for the chopper to land that he couldn’t stop tapping his foot relentlessly and drumming his fingers on his thighs. He’d seen Carson displaying that same jittery eagerness countless times before. Come to think of it, Becker, Ryan and Matt did the whole foot-tap/finger-drum thing too.
Was it a relationship thing? Because their single counterparts, Dylan, Seth and Jackson, looked perfectly at ease as they chatted over the din of the rotors. Cash hid a surprisingly smug smile at the realization that he was officially part of the no-longer-single camp.
Shit, he couldn’t wait to see Jen. He’d missed her something fierce the past three days.
He gazed out the window, his pulse racing as the San Diego skyline came into view. The sun hovered over the horizon line, filling the sky with brilliant shades of pink and orange. Made for a damn pretty sight, and he wondered if Jen had ever seen the sunset from a helo. If not, he’d have to take her up sometime. After all, he did have that pilot’s license he hardly ever put to use.
“I’m serious, this girl is a royal pain in the ass,” Dylan was saying. “I don’t know what my brother sees in her.”
Cash shifted his gaze to the blond SEAL in the seat across from him. Dylan had been griping about his older brother’s new girlfriend for the past ten minutes, and Seth, who was sitting next to the guy, finally rolled his eyes and said, “We get it. She’s a shrew. For the love of God, can we talk about something else?”
“Fine. Let’s talk about the chick you had over last week,” Dylan said. He shot the other men in the chopper a grave look. “I slept with the door locked and a knife under my pillow. No joke—I seriously believed she might murder me in my sleep.”
Seth grinned. “Don’t be an ass. Lisa’s a cool girl.”
“She had a face tattoo, man. And out of curiosity, is there any part of her body that isn’t pierced?”
“Nope.”
Cash chuckled. Seth had the most eclectic tastes when it came to women. Sometimes he went for the shy, fragile ones, other times it was the hardcore Goths, and then he’d switch it up and date a supermodel, followed by a plain Jane. The guy had no problem sampling every dish on the menu.
As Seth and Dylan’s banter continued, Cash glanced at Carson, who’d been quiet for the entire flight. A helo ride without Carson’s sarcastic remarks was bizarre, but Cash understood why the lieutenant was so somber. As far as he knew, Holly still hadn’t moved back home, and Carson being gone for the past three days probably hadn’t helped the situation.
Twenty minutes later, after the chopper touched down on the base, Cash said goodbye to the others and practically sprinted to the parking lot, with Ryan hot on his heels. Since he’d left his car with Jen, he had to rely on Ryan to drop him at their building, but fortunately, Evans seemed as eager to get going as Cash did. They were on the road in five minutes flat, and while Ryan drove, Cash grabbed his cell phone from the glove compartment and turned it on. Probably made him a total pansy, but when he saw the missed call and message from Jen, his heart did a dumb little flip.
He punched in the pass code for his inbox, desperate to hear Jen’s voice, even if it was via voicemail, but two minutes later, his desperation had transformed into a burst of white-hot rage.
“Goddamn it,” he swore, slamming his hand on the dash so hard he was surprised the air bag didn’t deploy in his face.
Ryan looked over sharply. “What’s wrong?”
“Fucking Psycho McGee attacked Jen.” Cash’s voice came out low and deadly, and his insides had coiled into incensed knots.
“What? I thought he left town.”
“He did, but apparently he came back. The asshole showed up at Jen’s apartment, muscled his way inside, and fucking attacked her.”
His hands curled into fists. Jen had assured him in the message that she was okay and that Brendan had been arrested, but that didn’t stop Cash from wanting to murder the son of a bitch.
“Is she all right?” Ryan asked.
“She claims she’s fine.” He clenched his teeth. “But who the fuck knows.”
Ryan sped up without needing to be asked. With the Jeep’s top down, the wind hissed in the front seat and slapped Cash’s face as the scenery whizzed past his peripheral vision. The closer they got to their building, the angrier Cash felt. At Brendan. At himself.
Before he could stop it, a rush of guilt flooded his body and tightened his throat. Fuck. Fuck. He should have been here to protect her. Jen hadn’t said much in the message, and she certainly hadn’t sounded accusatory or upset with him, but Cash was pretty damn upset with himself. What kind of man couldn’t protect the woman he loved?
“Get out here,” Ryan said briskly as he slowed down in front of the building. “I’ll park the car.”