“Keep me in the loop,” Ares said.
“Wilco,” Rylee said, clamping down on her training. She could sweat all she wanted, but she’d still do her duty.
“Ares out.”
“Rylee, are you able to walk?” Dakota asked.
“Yes. Much better. Tingling, no numbness. I’m good.”
“Here’s the plan. I want you to make the tower your spot for now. If you’re okay with it, I’m going to leave Tank with you.That way, I can focus on getting the last of the students out. We’re close. We have one more section to dig through. Are you down with that?”
“Of course.”
“Tank and I are coming to you there. Quickly gather food and water for two or three days, a first-aid kit, our sleeping bags, and your backpack. If you’re sentry, you need to be in the eagle’s nest.”
“Two or three days? For you, right? My logistics team is arranging transportation. I have a flight to London tomorrow.”
“It’s the basics that I always have with me. You’ll be on your flight tomorrow if you’re not on the Iniquus flight tonight.”
“What’s my time frame?” she asked, glad to have a task and a destination. Sitting in the damned tent, unable to see anything, cut off from being of service, had been miserable.
“I’m ten minutes out,” Dakota said.
The gathering was seamless. She had everything neat and organized because, honestly, what else did she have to do with her time? Rylee figured Tank’s crate would be important, and that had taken a minute to collapse.
Dakota called out. “It’s me,” and Tank offered up a bark, so Rylee knew he was there, too. The zipper scratched as it slid up the flap. And there he was, Dakota in full combat mode, latent strength, fierce concentration. He must feel it in the wind the way she did.
Rylee pointed at her pile of their things.
Dakota handed Tank’s lead and their pillows to her. “Food and water?” he asked as he slung the bags over his shoulders.
“Seventy-two hours of MREs, water pouches for hydration, baby wipes for sanitation.”
“Good.” He bent and pressed a kiss onto her lips. It was the kind of kiss that assured her that she wasn’t alone. That they were a team. “Let’s roll.” After moving through the tent flap,Dakota put Tank’s crate on his head and heaved the duffle onto his free shoulder.
“What’s in your backpack?” Dakota asked as they hustled away fast enough to make time, but not so fast that they’d stir fear amongst the refugees.
“An e-reader, a solar power bank with a backup crank. A shit ton of cash. A flask of rum and four diet colas.”
“Good planning.”
“Did you find McLeod?”
“No, but I did find his backpack. Guess what he’s got hidden between the leaves of his journal.”
“It was him, then. Well done, Secret Service.”
“Group effort,” Dakota said, his head on a swivel.
“But you can’t find him?”
“Iniquus has him on their roster. They’ll do a thorough search job. If he were in his guest house, though, that last tremor collapsed it.”
“Shit.”
“You okay?” Dakota asked. “Hanging in? Is this too fast?”
“Why do I feel like I should be running?”
