A Day in the Life of Marine Captain Cross before the Zoastra Affair Part Twenty Eight
“I don’t have a death wish, Grace,” Cross scoffed. “Even thinking about Rose romantically smells like trouble.” Thinking about Grace at all equaled double trouble— just minus the brig. “And I respect your husband.”
“We weren’t talking about me.”
With her body pressed into his, he felt compromised. “I don’t want a woman.”
“Now that’s a lie, Cross. You want a good woman, badly.”
“Don’t.” He heard them both plotting. He’d have none of that.
He turned them right and took the path out of the palace. The king took the stage to make his speech. Any second now, he’d realize the women were gone. Cross pulled her closer to him as they made their escape.
The crowd gathered, snickering at the king. Cross wanted as many jeers as possible— it would block the royal troops from following them. He breathed easier as they crossed the gate out of the palace, and found the hill.
“We’re almost there, Grace.”
“Cross, thank you.” Seconds later, she ran out of his arms and up the path to her waiting husband. His arms felt empty, but he said nothing. They were in the clear of the palace, and on their way back to the shuttle.
Cross watched silently from the path as Peter pulled Grace into a kiss. The other women joined the rescue party.
Rose sidled up beside Cross and whispered, “I can’t wait to get back to the ship. I’ll cook you lamb chops.”
Food sounded warm and inviting. “You don’t have to, Rosemarie.”