Of course he did.
Elliot had no such ability, but he’d be damned if he would belly-flop. He hit the water feet first, his arms crossed in front of him securely. The water was freezing, Mediterranean or no, but the life jacket did its job and Elliot came back up spluttering within a minute.
“There’s a raft in the water about twenty yards away,” said Anthony calmly, as soon as Elliot had cleared the water out of his nose. “We’ll have to swim for it. Can you?”
“I’ll have you know I was on the swim team in college.”
Anthony smiled and began swimming—and when he finally caught up to Elliot, who reached the raft first, he was laughing.
“Asshole,” said Elliot, helping Anthony out of the water and into the raft. He even did it in one smooth and seamless move. It left a trail of water streaming through the air that was probably extremely artistic and fancy in the bright sunlight.
The way Anthony collapsed on Elliot on the bottom of the raft was probably pretty darn artistic, too. Plus it was comfortable.
“Hello,” said Anthony, clearly not the least bit inclined to move. Elliot had no intention of complaining—much, anyway. The six Zaynas still flew above them, a sort of honor guard. At least one giggled at them. “This is quite comfortable.”
“I’m sure,” said Elliot dryly, giving him a bit of a shove. Anthony rolled off and removed his shoes, which was a good idea, since puncturing a hole in the raft would be extremely unhelpful. “Do we wait here for rescue, or are we supposed to row for shore?”
“Either, as you like,” said Anthony. “I suspect they’ll find us in an hour or so, and in the meantime, there should be supplies in the lockbox attached to the side.”
Elliot nodded—but the motion some distance off caught his eye.
The rocket sputtered and crashed into the sea, some two or three miles away.
He and Anthony watched in silence. The splash was enormous, creating quite a series of waves that were still fairly sizeable when they reached the raft. Elliot and Anthony held tight to the handles to make sure they didn’t topple over. It was rather like an intense water slide. Elliot resisted the urge to whoop with glee.
Once the water settled, Anthony dug into the supply box, pulling out napkins and plates and a small tray of freshly cut fruit. “We shouldn’t be far from land, so we can row if you’d like. There ought to be collapsible oars along the sides.”
“I’d rather have sunscreen,” said Elliot, and was promptly presented with a bottle of it. He grinned. “And water?”
Another bottle was promptly produced—but not water. It came with two flutes, and a package of strawberries.
“Afraid not, but we are amply supplied,” said Anthony, settling back down with the champagne.
“Seriously,” said Elliot, not sure if he was more amused or... no. Amused. Definitely amused. “I don’t know why I expected anything less.”
“Of course not,” said Anthony, popping the champagne. “Champagne?”
“Whatever,” said Elliot, slumping against the side of the raft. “Why the hell not? We saved DVM headquarters and I’m still alive.”
“Against all odds,” agreed Anthony as he dropped a strawberry into Elliot’s flute. “We’ll still need to deal with Bea, however.”
Elliot took the flute of champagne. “Already done. I contacted the FBI on the way to Bulgaria. She was in custody before we even showed up at the launch site.”
Anthony looked impressed. “Is that so?”
The champagne was bubbly and tart, and the raft rocked up and down so much that Elliot struggled to keep from spilling his champagne. Anthony, of course, had no such trouble. “She’ll stand trial along with Cicero and O’Leary, and whoever else in the DVM was in on the scheme with her.” Elliot stared at the glass in his hand, wondering how he’d drunk half of it already. “I don’t want to think about how many people that might be.”
“Then don’t,” Anthony advised him, topping off his glass. “First rule of being a field agent: worry about the current moment, not about the next.”
Elliot rolled his eyes. “And in this moment...”
“We’re well-supplied with champagne, strawberries, and sunscreen. The Zaynas have ensured that we are safe, and rescue is coming.”
Elliot snorted. “There’s probably a tracking beacon in here somewhere.”
“Of course there is: me. All field agents have tracking chips embedded during their missions.”
Elliot didn’t doubt it. “The first thing I’m doing when we get back to civilization is taking a hot shower, followed by a long nap.”
“The first thing I’m going to do is pour all my Scotch down the drain,” said Anthony.
Elliot frowned. “I thought you liked Scotch. It’s your drink.”
“Bea likes Scotch,” Anthony corrected him. “I like champagne, but it’s impossible to carry in a flask because of the bubbles. In fact....”
Anthony sat up, pulled the flask out of his coat, and threw it as far as he could into the ocean. Elliot’s mouth dropped open in surprise.
“Champagne,” repeated Anthony firmly. “I never want another drop of Scotch again.”
Elliot giggled, almost doubling over. “You... you threw your Scotch away.”
“I should ask Zayna to work on the bubbles,” mused Anthony. “She’s clever. She can think of something.”
Elliot shook his head, amusement tickling him where the champagne bubbles didn’t reach. “And that’s going to be the second thing you do, right? Talk to Zayna about bubbles?”
Anthony took a long sip of his champagne. “Well. I might email her. There’s other things that need doing.”
Elliot waited for Anthony to continue—but all Anthony did was lean back on the widely rounded side of the raft, closing his eyes, as if preparing for a nap.
It was so on brand for Anthony that Elliot wanted to kick him.
So he did. Gently, of course, the tip of his toe into Anthony’s leg. “You asshole.”
Anthony’s eyes sprang open. “Yes?”
“The first thing you’re going to do is to pour out the scotch and look into a traveling flask for champagne?” said Elliot flatly.
“I might shower. Maybe order some dinner in.”
Elliot kicked him again, harder this time. “What about me?”
Anthony raised an eyebrow. “You said you were going to sleep. You didn’t indicate you wanted company.”
“I was being facetious! And I didn’t know if—” Elliot trailed off.
“If?” prompted Anthony.
“Well... if you’d want to join me. I wasn’t going to presume, anyway.”
“And why not?” asked Anthony. “Didn’t you hear what I said on the rocket?”
“Well, yeah, but—we were on a rocket. We thought we were going to die.” Elliot stared at him. “You... you meant it?”
“Yes,” said Anthony simply. “All of it.”
“Even now that we’re not going to die?”
“Even now.”
“And that the mission is over.”