“I don't believe in coincidences.”
The morning newscast had come on, video shown in a small box that opened on the widescreen display. He hated news. It was never good.
When he went to block it out, Luna stopped him.
“Wait. Turn up the audio.”
Bloody Christ! Innis thought. Luna's startled gaze met his, at the latest news update.
“Do you think they know?” she whispered.
He had no idea. Communication had been fucked at best. He had sent a text message earlier but had no idea if they had picked it up.
“I've got work to do,” he replied.
He needed to find James Morgan.
CHAPTER
FORTY-FOUR
James stepped out of the farmhouse into the cold morning air, the sky just beginning to soften through the bare branches of the trees in the orchard.
Sleep was a cruel bitch, he thought. It teased, then disappeared, leaving him like so much garbage that had been tossed out.
He glanced up at the second story window of the farmhouse. Had she slept at all?
He had thought about going up to that room…Valentine had mentioned it in that way that assumed the obvious. He wanted to. No questions, no arguments, just the heat that had been there between them from the beginning.
A temporary thing? The heat of battle? Whatever you wanted to call it.
He wanted the feel of her skin against his, he wanted the sounds she made when they came together, he needed the way her breath caught when she came, the way she held on and then gave back.
Bloody fucking hell! He cursed as he went to the rental and punched in the remote code.
Too much coffee—Valentine had made the last post somewhere around three in the morning.
It was still there, the caffeine buzz that made him edgy as he scanned the dirt track, then the orchard beyond.
The door of the rental car was already iced over. He forced it open then slid inside. The icy interior was only marginally better as he took a chance and powered up the cell phone.
There was a brief connection, then the signal dropped. He swore again. If he had a laptop, he could have linked up to a military satellite using an old code and connected to Innis. They never did away with the old ones, just added new ones.
Would it have made a difference that last time, that last mission? He wondered. Up-to-date intel that might have told them about the trap they were walking into? Was it possible their position, all their movements had been hacked? He’d never know. No one would ever know. That’s the way it worked, just another ‘unfortunate situation,’ and casualties of war.
No service.
Kris wakened—restless, the sounds of strange places as she lay in the darkness of that room, the hum of the oil heater, the storm, the rattle of a tree branch on the window. She finally gave up the possibility of any more sleep.
The wood floor was cold beneath her feet in spite of the heat the oil heater cranked out. She pulled on her jeans and sweatshirt, and went downstairs. Ju-Ju greeted her at the bottom of stairs, thrusting a wet nose into her hand. She scratched his neck, then went into the kitchen. She discovered that she wasn't the only one unable to sleep.
A fire burned in the woodstove in the main room, Albert in his chair. Valentine stood in front of the ancient cook stove. She looked up as Kris came into the kitchen.
“Fresh coffee is ready.” She wrapped a potholder around the handle of the metal coffee pot and grabbed two mugs from the shelf.
“What about your grandfather?”
“I made a pot earlier. He has had enough. The doctor only allows him one cup a day—too much caffeine. Last night, oo-la-la, too much coffee,” she whispered.
