Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
“Sit.” Isaiah’s voice was far more commanding than Mark had ever heard it. “They’re getting some vegetables from a tray a neighbor brought over, some bread, and a bit of the pasta. I’ve got this.”
“I can—”
“I’ve been at this all week.” Isaiah sounded as world-weary as the most hardened senior chief. “I know what they will and won’t eat. Just let me handle it.”
Fuck. Mark had not needed the reminder of how long Isaiah had been alone, dealing with this, while they hadn’t been able to get a message to him on the mission. Thank fuck they’d finished when they had, or it could have been weeks...
Don’t think about that. He needed to keep his focus. Next task, which was apparently to eat. He could do that. He settled himself back onto the stool and chewed without tasting a damn thing. Just calories. He was used to forcing himself to eat MREs regardless of how they tasted or how actually hungry he was.
Isaiah got the girls situated at a low table tucked over by the patio doors, then dished himself out a big portion of the casserole and came to sit next to Mark. “I know you’ve probably got a dozen questions for me, but I think you should probably sleep first. We can talk arrangements when you’re rested.”
Arrangements. Another task. One he wanted to do less than having every last tooth extracted without Novocain, but it was the mission in front of him. “No. Tell me what needs to be done. Make me a list if you have to.”
“Everything’s already handled. We were just waiting for you. I’ll make the calls, but we should be good to go day after tomorrow? I know that’s fast—”
“No. It’s fine.” Mark wasn’t ever going to be ready for this. Better to just get it over with, move onto the next task. “But surely you need me to help with the calls. The decisions—”
“Mark.” Isaiah’s voice was gentle now. And God, he hadn’t been Mark in so damn long that his eyes burned. He’d been Mark to Cal and Danielle too. “You look like the ruined food. I’m seriously worried you’re gonna collapse, and I’m not sure I can drag your a—butt to bed if you pass out on me. I need you to eat, shower if you can, and then sleep as long as your body will let you.”
“That’s what you need?” Somehow Mark could deal easier if this were an order.
“Yes.” Isaiah reached over, squeezed his arm. His grip was solid, sure, and Mark wanted him to never let go. “Everything else can wait.”
No. Mark wanted to protest. The mission didn’t wait for him to rest up. And it wasn’t like sleep was going to change his reality. He’d dozed on the flights here and there, fitful sleep, and when he’d awoken, it was to the awful realization that this was real. So he’d focused on just getting here. But now, he wasn’t sure what came next, and that had him almost ready to hurl the food he’d just finished.
“Shower now. You’ll sleep better.” Isaiah removed the now empty plate, steered Mark away from the island. “My crap is already in the guest room. I’m going to give you the nanny’s room—there’s already clean sheets in there, and I’ll find you a pair of my sweats or something.”
And so Mark found himself at the back of the house, in the small room that had housed a series of housekeepers growing up, then been a workout room for his mother before Danielle had claimed it for her childcare help. He stumbled to the attached bath, stripped. One step. Then another. Then the one after that.
“Clothes on the bed,” Isaiah called from the room as Mark started the shower. “I’m getting the girls to bed now, but holler if you need something.”
Fuck. Mark needed this nightmare to end. Needed to wake up back with his men. Needed to not be here in this house that was at once both familiar and foreign to him. Needed—
Sleep. His body finally won the battle as he stepped out of the shower. He stumbled to the bed, barely aware of his head hitting the pillow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he’d figure out what the new mission was. Tomorrow he’d take charge of this mess.
Chapter Four
Isaiah checked in on Mark after getting the kids to bed—a circus and a half—and found him naked on the bed, no covers even, so he’d grabbed a blanket from the closet, put it over him, and hoped that when he finally woke up, Mark would look less like death.
Wait. Maybe not death. There was enough of that going around. But still, he’d never seen another person as done in as Mark had appeared. And strangely, it had given Isaiah something to ground himself to, made him forget temporarily about the break he’d so sorely needed. No, he’d had Mark to take care of, and that had kept him going, given him enough energy to deal with bath time and dinner and bedtime. And now, finally, he could collapse. But not here, even if the temptation was strong to stretch out next to Mark.