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He dipped down, giving her a long, slow kiss when his phone chirped a third time. He grunted, glancing at it over his shoulder. “Now, that’s probably your father wanting us to stop by the office or something.”
Foster checked his phone, shooting off another text to Kash or Zain — hell, maybe her dad — when Mac inhaled, the obvious answer to why they hadn’t found the drugs slamming into her head.
She gave him a light swat. “The office. That’s it.”
Foster frowned before placing the back of his hand across her forehead. “You don’t feel like you have a fever.”
“Funny.” She motioned for him to move then rolled off the bed and made a dash for his closet, reappearing a few moments later wearing more of his sweats. “What are you waiting for? We’ve got drugs to find.”
Foster was on his feet and snagging her arm a second later. “Mac? Sweetheart, you’re starting to scare me. Did you hit your head when we were bouncing along that gravel road last night?” He held up his hand. “How many fingers?”
“Three and I don’t have a concussion and I’m not crazy. I just figured out where they hid the drugs.”
His frown deepened. “Judging by your comment, I assume you think they hid them in my dad’s office, right? And not to put a damper on your enthusiasm, but that’s one of the few rooms that didn’t need to be renovated. In fact, I don’t think he changed anything.”
“Exactly.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “If you wanted to hide something you hoped no one would find, would you stash it behind a wall that obviously needs to be gutted in the future? One that could possible just rot away? Or would you put it someplace that’s already perfect? That won’t likely be touched.”
Foster glanced at the door. “Son of a bitch.”
He darted to his closet, grabbing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt before tugging them on. He snagged her hand, pausing long enough to drop a soul-searing kiss on her mouth before heading for the door. Foster practically jogged down the stairs, along the hallway and over to the rear of the house. He didn’t even answer Kash when his buddy asked if he’d killed the mood, continuing on until they were standing in the doorway.
Zain and Kash appeared behind them, looking as if they couldn’t decide if they should question Foster or call Chase for medical guidance.
Mac sighed when Foster stood there rolling his shoulder as he shook out his right hand. She hadn’t stopped to consider why they’d shied away from the office yesterday. That maybe it triggered a bunch of those unwanted memories he was trying to shove down. All those demons she’d agreed were sometimes better left unchallenged. Only now, she’d forced his hand.
Kash shifted on his feet, glancing at her then back to Foster. “Are we staring at the study because we’re having a moment or…”
Foster gave his buddy a roll of his eyes. “I’m not having a mental breakdown, Kash. Mac suggested that the drugs might be hidden in my dad’s office.” He swallowed, coughing a bit after. “My office, I guess.”
Mac gave his hand a squeeze. “I kinda like the idea of keeping this as John Beckett’s office that you just borrow from time to time. And it’s just a hunch, which I’m already starting to question.”
Foster looked at her then leaned over and kissed her. Hard. “Thanks. And I think you’ve got a point.”
Zain groaned. “I think I might be sick.”
Foster gave him a light shove, staying clear of his shoulder, then waved at the stack of boxes. “I’ll admit. I haven’t really given this room a hard look. I just packed up some of my dad’s stuff and put it in here.”
Zain clapped him on the back “None of us are questioning your motives, Beckett. So, let’s make this a team effort.”
They dove in, moving all the boxes to another room until just the furniture was left. And it was impossible not to see John Beckett’s mark on the place. From the antique desk and thick padded chair, to the collection of photographs hanging on the walls, the room was definitely a tribute to his and Foster’s lives in the service.
Kash tapped one of the photos. “I had no idea your dad had a copy of this shot. It was in Syria, right?”
Foster laughed. “Just before we went on that furlough in Berlin.” He nudged Kash. “Are you still banned from ever going back?”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“It really was.” He sighed at the photo hanging next to Kash of Foster and his dad shortly after Foster had been recruited to Flight Concepts. “I had no idea my father was such a sentimental pack rat.”
Mac cozied up to him, slipping her hand over his. “I’d say he was extremely proud of you.”
Foster merely nodded, looking more than a bit lost, when her phone pinged, followed a moment later by Kash’s.
Mac groaned inwardly, glancing at Kash before stealing a look at her screen. “Damn.”
Foster huffed. “Obviously, that’s work if both yours and Kash’s are going off.”
“My dad just sent a nine-one-one. Hold on. I’ll get more intel.”