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Foster closed his eyes as he tipped his head back. Looking as if he was searching for some form of Zen before focusing on her. “Chase was obviously dropped on his head as an infant.”
She tiptoed up and gave him a peck on his cheek. “Thanks. This was really…”
“Just go. And get Charlie to hook that up so your father doesn’t think you’re reckless.”
“He’d never call me reckless.”
“Sorry to break it to you, sweetheart, but he already did, that first night.”
Sweetheart?
Foster inhaled as soon as the words sounded around them, staring at her until Chase honked, again. “Be safe. And make smart choices.”
“Pretty sure you’re the risk taker.”
She held up the box then rounded Chase’s truck, jumping inside. Chase made a face at Beckett then drove off, leaving her staring out the back as Foster slowly faded from sight.
She turned the navigational unit over in her hands, again, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through her core. While she’d had her share of boyfriends, they’d never really embraced her job, which was part of the reason nothing had ever gotten serious. Not that Foster was her boyfriend. In fact, she wasn’t sure what he was, other than a source of frustration. An unrelenting ache slowly building in her gut.
Mackenzie pushed the thought away as Chase pulled into the hanger parking lot, already jumping out and heading for the main doors. She pressed the box against her chest as she followed suit. She’d take it slow. Maybe find a way to drop by without looking as if she was dropping by. And if she was lucky, fate might intervene.
Chapter Six
“Damn it.”
Foster shook out his hand, rubbing his thumb as he tried to ease the stinging ache shooting through his palm. This was the third time he’d jammed his finger trying to get the shelving to slide through the groove, and he was about ready to toss the entire bookcase across the room.
Fatigue strained his shoulders, and he rolled them, acutely aware of how the right one clunked, the plates and screws shifting a bit with every rotation.
The wind howled outside, rattling the windows in what was shaping up to be another biblical-like storm raging across the coast. After spending so much time overseas, he’d forgotten how intense the Pacific Northwest was during the fall and winter. While the thunderstorm they’d experienced a few weeks ago was a rare occurrence, fierce storms with punishing rain and damaging winds swept through often. Though, it was also one of the reasons he loved this part of the country. It always seemed so alive.
Foster tossed the mallet onto the pile of wood then made his way over to the window. Fog curled through the trees as they lashed against each other, rain already running in rivulets down the driveway. The setting sun cast the entire area in an odd gray glow, the last remnants of daylight fading into the growing dusk.
He speared his fingers through his hair, unsure if it was the weather or his thoughts that had him on edge. He and his buddies had patrolled the property ever since Mac had interrupted those men that night two weeks ago but hadn’t found any concrete evidence. Nyx had picked up on some kind of scent more than a few times, but Kash had always come up empty. Just the odd footprint to suggest they weren’t imagining the incidents. Though nothing they could trace back to Carrington or GeneTide.
Hell, to anyone.
And the fact there hadn’t been any form of unwanted intrusions since that night seemed to suggest Foster and his team were making far more out of this than needed. That it was likely as benign as they’d guessed. More tech-savvy burglar ring and less mercenary out to cap one of them.
Foster hadn’t allowed the lack of activity to stop him from searching through his father’s stuff. All the boxes he’d shoved in his dad’s office because he’d either been unable or unwilling to go through it. Even now, almost five months later, simply looking at it gutted him. Knowing he’d wasted those last few years. More than a few if he were being honest. Not that his parents had ever complained. They’d lived the life long before he was born, and Foster knew they were proud he’d chosen to dedicate his life to the service.
Continue his father’s legacy.
He swallowed. Maybe if he’d found something to connect their unexplained experiences with his current ones, he wouldn’t have this hollowness in the pit of his stomach. An emptiness that had only grown with Sean’s death and what threatened to eventually pull him under.
Except when he was with Mackenzie.
For some unknown reason she scattered all the guilt and hurt, filling that void with a sense of excitement he hadn’t felt outside of flying. All the times he’d avoided a bogey or taken a crazy risk only to have it save his ass. He’d only known her for a few weeks, and already she’d become a habit he wasn’t sure he could break.
Foster tipped back his head. He was losing it. Slipping off the deep end because he wasn’t even sure if she liked him. Sure, she’d found excuses to drop by most nights — just like he’d manufactured reasons to show up at the hanger. Hell, he’d purchased more avionics and imaging equipment than she could probably fit in her helicopter, just so he could see her without looking as if he was trying to see her. But there was something intoxicating about watching her face light up. Knowing she was a thousand times safer than when he’d first flown with her.
He glanced at his watch, wondering how it seemed so dark when it was only five thirty. Chase had texted him thirty minutes ago to say that with the intensity of the incoming system, they’d called it a day and that he and Zain were heading over to the sheriff’s station to meet up with Greer. She’d hinted she might have some intel. Which meant Mackenzie would have been bouncing along the gravel driveway by now if she was going to show up.
There was no mistaking the instant punch of disappointment at the empty road.
He wandered into the kitchen and grabbed a pop, all that restless energy making his muscles twitch. This was why he sucked at relationships. He’d never figured out how to successfully navigate the airspace between friends and lovers without eventually crashing and burning. How far to push that envelope until he’d inadvertently busted right through, usually with him getting the boot. Not that he’d ever really been thoroughly invested, but this time felt distinctly different. And he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d waited too long. Left that part of him lonely and buried to the point it was beyond resurrecting.
If there wasn’t enough of his heart left to save.