CHAPTER 22
Thom remained good for an hour or so, until the sun rose higher in the sky and he got a look at the clock on the dashboard. That’s when he started to get antsy.
He was good at compartmentalizing things while in the middle of the action, but now that they were out of the shit, he was starting to lose it.
Another hour went by and he was crawling out of his skin, practically rocking with agitation and the adrenaline he couldn’t expend in the backseat of a truck that wasn’t getting him where he needed to go nearly fast enough.
The three-hour drive had felt like nothing on their way there two days ago.
Now, a day late getting back with no means of communication in their possession, the return trip felt like an eternity.
The time he should have been at the church, dressed and ready for photos, came and went and they were rapidly approaching the hour he was supposed to be standing with Ginny at the altar to take his vows.
Finally Thom cracked. “Oh. My. God. Why didn’t we try and find our cell phones back there?”
Brody turned and cocked one brow. “Because we were escaping captivity by a bunch of lunatics?”
“And even if by some miracle we had gotten hold of a cell phone, I told you, the signal around here sucks,” Rocky added.
Thom had managed to keep his cool during the captivity. To focus only on getting free as he’d been trained to do. To not obsess over Ginny and the wedding. But now that the imminent danger had passed, he was obsessing all right.
Good thing he’d long ago switched on the weapon’s safety and put it down on the floorboards of the truck, because he was too twitchy to have his finger anywhere near the trigger of a loaded gun.
“But I called Ginny on the way here.” Thom’s frustration was starting to bubble over and spill onto his friends.
“And you talked for like thirty seconds before you lost the connection. This whole area is a dead zone. You were lucky to get a call to go through at all,” said Rocky.
Thom saw nothing lucky about any part of his life over the past few days. In fact, he was most definitely the most unlucky man he knew.
His gut feeling had been right. Things had been going too smoothly—the successful raid in Iran, the delay-free transport back to the US, his two-week wedding leave being approved—so of course life had to slap him down and put him in his place.
If he was this crazy, then Ginny must be going completely insane.
Brody twisted in his seat to glance back at Thom. “Bro, we’re gonna get there. A’ight?”
How could Brody be so confident? Thom frowned. “Do you not understand that the wedding is today?”
“Yup. Later today,” Brody corrected.
Thom sniffed out a breath. “Not that much later.”
They still had a long way to travel. And what if they hit traffic? Thom glanced at the digital display on the dashboard but all that did was upset him more.
“Dude. I’m driving as fast as I can.”
Thom was well aware of that as he had to grab again for the back of the seats in front of him to keep from getting flung across the cab of the truck as Rocky veered from one lane to another, weaving in and out of traffic and passing the other vehicles that weren’t going eighty-five miles an hour.
“Do you want me to get off the highway at the next exit and try to find a phone so you can call?” Rocky asked.
The likelihood of stumbling upon a pay phone nowadays was slim to none and it would take too long to find a gas station or convenience store and convince the clerk to let him use their landline to make a call.
“No. It’s okay. We can’t take the time. Just keep driving.” He wouldn’t feel better until he was in Stamford. He wouldn’t be okay until they pulled into the parking lot of the church and he saw Ginny.
Rocky hit the brakes and Thom was flung against the seat in front of him.
“What the fuck?” Brody cursed.
“Cop,” Rocky answered as he slowed to something more resembling the speed limit.
Fifteen minutes later, the police were the least of their problems as traffic slowed to a crawl.
“Can you see up ahead? What’s going on?” Thom asked, tasting bile in the back of his throat.
“There’s flashing lights. Must be an accident,” Rocky answered. “We’ll be past it in about half a mile.”
Moving at five miles an hour the way they were, that’d only take—forever!
Shit. A camp full of gun-toting militants hadn’t defeated Thom, but this drive just might.