I’M A FAN of flying and jumping out of airplanes. What I’m not a fan of is walking through the airport in handcuffs, but that’s what Cara had to do to make this an official prisoner transport. Of course it doesn’t help that EJ is asking, very loudly, why I have to be handcuffed and why he can’t wear some, too. The only benefit is that people are steering clear of me and offering sympathy to Ryley because they’re all assuming I’m her fugitive husband.
Being a “fugitive” means we don’t have to sit and wait with everyone else. The first class lounge is very nice, and even with it being my first time in here, I find that I could get used to something like this. Being in the Navy doesn’t exactly pad the pocketbook—therefore, if it takes handcuffs to get into the first class lounge, so be it. Unfortunately, when we get on the plane we’ll be in coach like everyone else, except we have the luxury of getting on first. You know, dangerous criminal and all.
I have to say, Ryley isn’t playing the role of doting wife to me right now; she’s chasing EJ around. Cara is talking with security, and I’m sitting on a leather chair with my coat wrapped around my hands trying to figure out how to pick up the glass of water the hostess sat down on the table for me. Mind you, she should’ve never given a criminal a glass, but that’s beside the point. I’m thirsty and the water is mocking me.
As soon as our flight is called, Cara is at my side, being dutiful. She walks me toward the gate, flashes her badge and our papers amongst the whispers, and escorts me onto the plane. Ryley and EJ are sitting across from us, with us all being in the first row of coach.
“Let me see your hands,” Cara says as I lift them toward her. After this, you can bet your ass I’ll be following every law mandated because being unable to use my hands is not my cup of tea. As soon as Cara unlocks the cuffs, I instinctively rub my wrist. Even though they weren’t tight, the metal still rubbed against my skin causing an irritation.
“How long’s the flight?”
“Under three hours,” Cara replies while scrolling through her phone. “When we land, Jensen will be there waiting for Ryley and EJ. You and I will get into a black town car and meet them at the Clarke’s.”
I frown at the realization that we’ve had to go through so much trouble to get me back to San Diego. I should’ve just taken the bus, which is how I ended up in Seattle to begin with. The security is so much less strict, and they’re not paying attention once you show them your military ID.
The plane starts to fill and I keep my hands under my coat so as to not cause a panic. The passengers need to think I’m still under Cara’s control. They need to feel safe, and if that means hiding my hands, giving them the illusion I have cuffs on, so be it. The last thing people need is fear when they get on a plane. People can’t help but stare, even the few eyes I’ve made contact with as they’ve come down the aisle has them questioning what I’m doing on the plane and whether I’ll be causing a ruckus.
There’s some mumbling as people walk by and Cara makes sure to have her badge around her neck, so everyone can see it. I hate that I’m making them uncomfortable. I look over to Ryley, who is watching me, to see an expression of pity. I don’t need it, but I know it’s inevitable. She turns away and whispers something in EJ’s ear. The next thing I know he’s coming over and sitting down next to me and showing me his iPad. Maybe Ryley feels that if people see me with EJ, they’ll soften. Thing is, Ryley doesn’t know how comfortable she’s just made me by having him sit next to me.
Aside from a few comments behind us, the flight goes off without a hitch. Once again, I’m escorted off first and the people in first class whisper as I walk by with my jacket covering my once again cuffed hands out in front of me. I know they’re pissed they’re still sitting down, and if my situation were different I wouldn’t care, but these people have no idea what I’m going through and it pisses me off that they feel they can pass judgement on me. If it weren’t for guys like me, these people wouldn’t be so careless with their freedom.
Jensen is waiting at the baggage carousel when we finally make it down there. EJ races out of Ryley’s grip and into his grandfather’s arms. Watching them … hell, watching any child hugging a parent or otherwise, chokes me up.
I feel my resolve slipping, my determination wavering. I know I have to fight, but fighting thin air is tiresome. I want a reward, a nugget of information which tells me that Penny and Claire are alive. That’s all I need to get me to the next stage.
Jensen gives me a hug. It’s nice even though I don’t know him well. We’ve met maybe a handful of times. Carole, I know better but the hug is welcoming nonetheless.