Neither of them had any preconceptions as to what this encounter was — a simple hedonistic release. King got the sense that Savannah was career-minded, and she knew he wouldn’t be in Washington for long.
As soon as they retreated to King’s sweeping hotel room at the Sofitel on Lafayette Square, they fell on each other ravenously, locking lips and searching with their hands wherever they pleased. King thundered the two-bedroom suite’s door closed and looped an arm around the small of Savannah’s back, lifting her off her feet effortlessly as he worked his way down to the base of her neck with his tongue. She ran her hands across his chest, clearly enraptured by his musculature.
Four years of relentless physical conditioning will do that, he thought.
He had just begun to unhinge her bra with a pair of fingers when a sharp knock at the door froze them both in their tracks.
‘Damn,’ Savannah breathed into his ear, her long hair unruly, spilling over his face. ‘Bad timing.’
He grinned and placed her gently to the floor, his hormones racing. ‘I’ll send them away.’
She twirled on the spot in exuberant fashion, presenting King with a three-hundred-and-sixty degree view of her physique, enticing him. He pointed to the four-poster bed in the corner of the room.
‘Be there in a second,’ he mouthed.
She flashed a sly grin and tiptoed over to the mattress.
Suppressing his racing pulse, he crossed to the front door, irritated by the interruption. He adjusted his shirt — which Savannah had been in the process of pulling over his head — and hurled the flimsy door open, outwardly disgruntled.
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ he muttered as he locked eyes with the man standing in the doorway. ‘I thought you said tomorrow morning.’
‘I did,’ Lars said, arms folded across his chest. His close-cropped hair was slightly unruly, as if he’d been disturbed by something unexpected. ‘But something came up. You busy?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Unfortunately, I can’t wait.’
‘Great.’
His excitement dying with each passing second, King spun on the spot and grimaced as he made eye contact with Savannah from across the room.
‘Look…’ he began.
Her face twisted into a scowl as she began to realise what was coming.
‘You’re kidding,’ she said.
Lars picked up on the female voice and pushed straight past King, striding into the broad room with a sheepish grin on his face. ‘Jason, you naughty boy.’
‘Shut up,’ King muttered.
‘Sorry, sweetie,’ Lars said, pulling into view of Savannah. ‘Your fling’s got some business to attend to. He gets paid a lot of money to be on call twenty-four-seven. Hope you understand.’
Savannah had already begun the process of gathering up her belongings in a huff, visibly fuming. She stepped into her business heels and stormed straight past them without bothering to secure them to her feet. On the way, she refused to meet King’s gaze.
‘Silver Star my ass,’ she spat, disappearing from sight before either of them could respond.
Lars raised an eyebrow, leant forward, and slammed the door shut.
‘What the fuck are you doing talking to civilians about that kind of thing?’ he said, shooting daggers at King.
‘I wasn’t,’ King said. ‘She overheard our phone call. That’s kind of how she ended up here.’
‘It’s your fault she overheard. Be a little more cautious about that kind of thing in future.’
‘How else am I supposed to pick up women?’ King said, grinning to highlight the sarcasm.
Lars looked him up and down. ‘Somehow I think you’ll manage, you giant bastard.’
‘We can’t all be five-foot-eight, Lars.’
Lars started to curse, then cut himself off. ‘I’d like to joke around with you all night, but this is kind of serious. I wouldn’t have stormed up in here cramping your style otherwise.’
‘How serious? The ceremony’s happening tonight?’
Lars shook his head. ‘Afraid we’ll have to save the Silver Star for another day, brother. We have a flight to catch.’
‘For work?’
‘For work.’
A sharp ball of tension formed in the pit of King’s stomach. He squirmed, suddenly restless. It took a certain shift in mentality to adjust to the demands of a live operation. He hadn’t anticipated being thrust back into the madness so shortly after leaving it all behind in Mexico.
‘Tijuana again?’ King said. ‘Problems cropping up?’
‘No. Somewhere more pleasant this time. Pack your shit — the plane’s waiting on us.’
‘What plane? Where the hell are we headed?’
‘Just pack your shit,’ Lars said, suddenly deadly serious. ‘We’re running with a live situation again. Everything’s up in the air. I’ll debrief you on the plane.’
‘You’re coming?’
‘Just for the flight. Then I’m out of there.’
King reached forward and seized Lars by the shoulders. ‘Where. Are. We. Going?’
‘Mogadishu,’ Lars said. ‘You’ll love it, I promise. Great spot.’
Somalia.
King gulped back hesitation, then squashed it down and moved to stuff his measly belongings into the canvas duffel bag he’d picked up from an upmarket department store in downtown D.C. He didn’t say a word in response to Lars’ sardonic quip. He had no say in the matter. The contracts he’d signed in a dingy warehouse in Wyoming had surrendered all his rights to the United States Armed Forces — or, at least, a shadowy faction of it.
‘I take it you’ve weighed up your options,’ he said.
Lars nodded.
‘I’m your only choice?’
‘You’re the best option we have.’
King nodded back. ‘Thought as much. Volatile situation?’
‘Kind of. It’s a little more complicated. Like I said, I’ll tell you on the goddamn plane.’
King knew the obvious. There was no use protesting — if Lars had decided to come to him with the request, then all other options had been exhausted. It had already been pre-determined that Jason King would serve the situation best, and at that moment any alternatives had dissipated into nothingness.
He would respond to the request the only way he knew out.
With massive, overwhelming offence.
Gathering his belongings and slinging the duffel bag over one shoulder, King said, ‘I take it we’re facing a similar situation to Mexico. You want me to slide into an insurgency and tear it apart?’
Lars shook his head. ‘Quite the opposite, I’m afraid.’
King froze. ‘Wha—?’
‘For the fourth time — I’ll debrief you on the plane. You won’t register anything I tell you right now. I want you in a cargo hold, with zero distractions. Understood?’
‘Got it.’
The order was final.
King strode straight past Lars, out into the hallway, leaving the hotel room behind for the last time. It had kept him rested for the last seven nights, but he felt no significant attachment to the place in the same way he hadn’t felt a connection to any physical space for the past four years. He had willingly embraced a life on the move, and now it almost felt as if he were returning to a place he was inherently comfortable with.
The unknown.
The life of a warrior.
He masked a smirk of acceptance as he made for the elevators, Lars trailing in his wake.
He was home.
4
The transit unfolded so fast that King boarded the cargo plane without discerning the make or manufacturer, or any significant details regarding the aircraft that would send him into war-torn Somalia. He simply complied with the rapid chain of events that culminated in him stepping foot inside a freezing metal fuselage exactly thirty minutes after exiting the Sofitel in Lafayette Square.