“I was going to tell you. Tonight. I had a plan...”
“I bet you did,” Apollo said dryly, unable to keep his frustration from leaching into his voice. “They didn’t just hand you this, right? You had to apply and interview and all that?”
“Yeah,” Dylan said weakly. “And I wanted to tell you, but the timing never seemed right—”
“Because you were too busy lying and acting like you were headed back to Oregon in a few weeks?” Okay, more than a little frustration was showing now even as he kept his voice down. But damn it, the only reason he’d trusted himself to get involved with Dylan was the limited time frame.
“No!” Dylan’s voice was as wounded as his big blue eyes. “That’s not how it was. I wasn’t getting any job leads, and then this came up, and I figured it wasn’t a big deal—”
Apollo made a scoffing noise because they both knew that was a lie. This was a huge deal, and a muscle in his jaw leaped as he tried to keep control of himself. Had Dylan planned this all along? Figured he could seduce Apollo into something more? Or was it more wishful thinking on his part and Apollo was about to crush him? Fuck. This was a total no-win scenario.
Whir. Whir. Apollo’s phone jangled in his pocket with the special vibration he’d assigned calls from the base. He pulled it out and his gut sank into the scuffed gym floor when he saw the message—an emergency code that almost never got used that meant get to base ASAP because something was very wrong with one of the training operations he oversaw.
“Fu—Heck. There’s an emergency.”
“You need to go?” Dylan almost visibly switched gears, voice going efficient, expression distant. “It’s okay. I’ve got the girls.”
“This... I might be gone overnight if they need me to travel.” He had to be careful how much he told Dylan, not when he didn’t have more than a few cryptic words to go on himself and when the whole training operation was top secret. “But I want you to do me a favor and not turn on the local news around the girls while I’m gone, okay?”
“Of course. You can trust me.” There was a defensive edge to Dylan’s voice, a remnant of their earlier conversation, no doubt.
No choice right now. Apollo bit back the cruel words and nodded sharply instead. “We...we’re not done here, okay? We’re going to talk as soon as I’m back.”
“Sure. But right now, Lieutenant, you need to go. And you need to trust me. Things will be fine. However long you’re gone. I’ll hold down the fort.”
“I know you will.” Apollo sighed heavily, hating his job for the first time in a long time. He could already sense that he was heading to a clusterfuck of epic proportions, right when he needed to stay and have this out with Dylan. Leaving things unfinished had his teeth grinding and his back tensing up.
“You leaving, Baba?” Sophia had evidently heard the tail end of their conversation and she looked at him with sad, knowing eyes.
“Yeah. But Dylan will take you home, get you dinner—”
“Do you want tacos?” Dylan’s voice was far brighter than Apollo would have thought possible. He was so good with the girls, compartmentalizing as well as some of Apollo’s men, focusing on the mission Apollo had given him to take care of the girls. Apollo’s throat felt tight as a coiled bungee cord and his emotions that were ready to spring out all over the place. God, he was a mess, right when he needed to focus most.
“Go.” Dylan’s hand was warm on Apollo’s shoulder. “Everything else will keep. I promise.”
“Thanks.” Apollo kissed the girls and gave Dylan a grateful look, one that he hoped would suffice until they could talk for real, find out what the hell Dylan was thinking.
Chapter Nineteen
“Helicopters do not simply fall from the sky.” The admiral’s dark hair shook as she spoke more clipped than usual. “Felder, you’re pulling all maintenance logs on the bird, every scrap of data you can on the pilots and crew. You’ve got full access to the support staff, but I want a report by twenty-three hundred.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Felder was writing notes as fast as the rest of them. Disaster had struck that afternoon when a helicopter doing a training mission with a SEAL team had landed on its side. The injured crew and SEAL team were being transported to NMCSD, and it was the job of Apollo’s group to find out what had gone so horribly wrong.
“Floros, I want you to take point at the hospital—I’m going to need you out at the crash site with me eventually, but the families are going to want to see someone in leadership, and right now that’s you. Public relations is holding the media at bay, but you know they’re going to ask about toxicology on the pilot. Make sure you know where we are on that. And take Carmichael. I’ll want a briefing from you on the condition of all personnel at twenty-three hundred as well.”
“You’ll have it.” Apollo snapped his notepad shut. The whole situation briefing he’d been praying for anything other than hospital duty. Get him out in the field, let him go over that bird with a magnifying glass and toothbrush, or ask him to grill the personnel on the ground about what they’d observed, and he wouldn’t hesitate to carry out the mission.
But the hospital? Man, this was going to be as brutal as a six-hour climb in the desert, and him with fresh-faced Carmichael with the medical phobia to boot. Carmichael, who needed a strong role model for how to handle these situations, not someone getting overly emotional at the thought of delivering bad news. But even if they didn’t lose a single person—and God knew Apollo was praying for that—lives were still changing today, and most not for the better.
All because something had gone wrong, something that perhaps they could have prevented, and while it would be weeks and possibly months until they knew for sure, Apollo was going to have to live with that guilt. Had they double-checked everything? Had he been too distracted by leaving early for the girls’ performance? Was there something he’d personally failed at in the weeks leading up to the accident? Had the business of messing around with Dylan clouded his focus?