Page 69 of Constantly Cotton
“So are you guys trapped in that indefensible cabin?” Jackson Rivers asked. “Because that was a bad move.”
“It was either that or be a duck in a lake,” Jason retorted. “Lake’s cold. Warmer in here. I thought you were going to hook us up with LEO!”
“We were going to, but your unit moved early, and now Ellery is in Tahoe, keeping your guy out of jail for obstruction of justice. He’s also briefing the sheriff’s department on why they should keep Dietrich Schroeder handcuffed to his bed rail. You’re welcome.”
“This is so not fair,” Jason muttered, glaring at Trina. “You werenotsupposed to move without my go-ahead!”
Trina grimaced. “Recon, Colonel. I swear, we were doing a drive-by so we could give LEO their location. It was not supposed to get dire!”
“Well, it’s pretty fuckin’ dire,” Jackson said from the phone. “Look, we’ve got a bead on their vehicle. They’ve got a driver parked back from the road—you might not have it in your cameras. I’m leaving Henry here to disable their vehicle.”
“Nice instincts,” Trina said with a grimace.
“That’s why they pay me the big bucks,” Jason told her. “So I can lay odds that there’s other bad guys we can’t see.”
“Talk to me about the ones youcansee,” Jackson said. “We saw the black SUV off the road. What do you have?”
“Three subjects, moving in on the cabin from the north, east, and west sides,” Jason said. “The south side appears not to be covered. Possible escape for our civilian through there?”
“Wait,” Cotton said, sounding confused. “Am I the civilian? Why aren’t you escaping with me?”
“Because, baby,” Trina said, while Jason and Jackson continued to plan over the phone, “it’s time for Jason to go to work.”
COTTON DIDN’Tlike this. He didn’t like it, he didn’t like it, and he didn’ttrustit. Every instinct he had said he and Jason needed to stay together to survive, but then, the last time he’d faced off with an opponent with a gun, he’d thrown a chef’s knife at the guy’s nose.
He didn’t even have a chef’s knife here, and while he’d had a few knife-throwing lessons, they equaled nothing that was going to make him hot ninja shit since then. They’d been planning to go to the shooting range that afternoon so Jason could practice, but apparently the bad guys were in a hurry.
And even he could see that the three people wearing traditional bad-guy black were moving in on the cabin in position to take out anybody inside.
“Why would they leave the south side open?” he pondered.
And Jackson said over the phone, “They didn’t.”
“Repeat that?” Jason said, sounding surprised.
“It wasn’t open. Now it is. And we have a great place to get Cotton out and you guys too.”
“Where we can circle around and take them out,” Jason said with satisfaction. “Trina, are you armed?”
She patted the pancake holster in the small of her back, and Jason nodded.
“Fair enough,” he said. “Excuse me, all, I need to fetch my service weapon.”
Cotton had packed it. He remembered that because besides the clothes they’d purchased for him, the service revolver, holster, and boots had been pretty much the only things Jason’d had that were salvageable after Lance had cut off all his clothes to treat him.
It was the one and only time Cotton had ever held a gun.
“Please tell me he’s cleaned it in the last two weeks,” Trina said as Jason ran to the back bedroom.
“Yes,” Cotton told her. “After breakfast this morning. Why?”
“Because those things don’t fire right if they’re not cleaned regularly,” she said. “And the only thing worse than having to fire one is having it misfire because there’s too much debris in the chamber.”
“This morning,” Cotton repeated, remembering Jason’s quiet concentration on the task before their run. He’d said much the same thing Trina just had, but the incident had served as a reminder—yet another one—that as much as he loved this man, Jason had never really been his.
“Good,” Trina said. Her lips quirked up. “He really is an amazing marksman, particularly with handheld. With rifles, I’d prefer Goldfarb or Klausner, but Colonel Constance is nearly as accurate with small arms as a lot of soldiers are with a scope. Don’t worry, Cotton, we’re in good hands.”
Cotton didn’t tell her that he’d known that from the beginning. Even sick and feverish and helpless, Jason Constance had never not cared for the people he was with.