His breath hitched. "Captain?—"
"You will also expedite the housing assignment. Large quarters. For a family." He opened his mouth, but I kept going. "And you will leave us alone. Completely. No surveillance. Nointerest. No tests."
"This isn't how?—"
"Do you know who one of my father's close friends is?" I asked softly.
He blinked.
"Senator Burton K. Wheeler."
That hit him like a punch.
Montana.
West.
Power.
Legacy.
Connections stretching into places men like him feared.
"He visited our ranch every summer while I was growing up," I continued. "He taught me how to shoot. He plays poker with my father. And he will be VERY interested to learn that the Office of Policy Coordination has been harassing his friend's son, and his future daughter-in-law, in violation ofeveryregulation you pretend to follow."
The OPC man swallowed. Hard.
"And that," I added, letting my eyes flicker gold again, "is thehumanpart of my threat."
His knees almost buckled. "I'll… see what I can do," he whispered.
"You'll do exactly what I told you," I corrected. "Or I won't need to burn your office down. I'll just make a phone call."
He nodded shakily.
"And stay away from my family," I said. "If you come near them, I won't show you the polite version of what I am."
I walked past him, leaving him pale and sweating in the middle ofthe hallway.
The walk to the roster board should have calmed me, but it didn't. Between Carter and the OPC guy, my blood was flowing like lava. Hot and thick. At the roster board, my flight time was posted.
Six hours of continuous lift runs.
Then two hours downtime.
During which I would make some phone calls, because I knew Inga wouldn't do as I asked, and even if she did, she wouldn't buy nearly as much as she and the kids needed.
The next four hours after that of flying, I could handle too. Yes, it would be a long day, but I could handle anything now.
Because I had someone to come home to.
I touched the dog tags under my uniform, thinking of her, of warm bathwater, of her soft lips against mine, of her whisperingI love youin the morning light.
"I'll be back, sweetheart," I murmured to myself as I headed for the plane. "And nothing on this earth will keep me from you."
Berlin — July 23, 1948, Friday night
I didn't even hearthe first knock. I was brushing Klaus's hair—it was still fluffy and soft from last night's bath—when a polite tap sounded at the suite door.
