They were at the airport in Kampala waiting for the small plane that would take them the rest of the way home. Or at least, as far as they could go by air. He’d considered putting in a landing strip at their base but had decided against it. It could draw attention to them. After all, an airstrip might be spotted on Google Earth.
So the last part of the trip was made by truck, which was still much quicker than on foot. That was how he had made the journey for the first few times he’d returned. In many ways, he missed those days.
There was some sort of delay and Jake and the colonel had gone to see if they could speed things up. They were all eager to get the journey over with.
Or so he kept telling himself.
Except he couldn’t shake the feeling that he shouldn’t be here.
That he shouldn’t have let Kaitlin out of his sight.
Whatever she thought—whatever anyone else thought—that woman was not safe let out alone.
She was reckless.
While she didn’t have a death wish, sometimes he had the impression that she didn’t care if she lived or died.
Kane had watched the car disappear down the curved drive that morning with a sense of unease. He’d offered them the helicopter to go back to London, but Rose and Dave had driven from London and were happy to make the drive back. And Kaitlin had said she would rather keep her feet on the ground, if she had the choice.
Snow had started to fall again as they left. He hoped they’d take it easy.
“Drive slowly,” he’d sent into Rose’s head. She didn’t reply.
The unease had increased since, growing more intense the farther he had gotten from her. Rose had called to say they were all safely ensconced in the hotel in London and that should have made him feel better.
Not a chance.
Now, sitting on a hard seat in a hot airport, he tried to get back some of the excitement he had experienced when Leila had told him the machine had come to life.
Apparently, the countdown had started flashing and then a door had materialized in the smooth silver metal of the machine’s surface.
He should have been there.
But the excitement was gone, washed away by a sense of wrongness. And the doubts were back, gnawing at his insides.
He blamed Kaitlin.
He jumped to his feet and paced the small private room they’d been given to wait in. How was she? He calculated the time in London. It would be the middle of the night over there.
Would she be sleeping?
Or would she be restless, excited by the idea of putting her life on the line tomorrow?
Or would she be missing him?
He relived the kiss. Again.
And felt his body respond at the memory.Not helping.
The door opened, and Christa appeared carrying two coffees. She kicked the door closed behind her and headed over to him, handing him one of the polystyrene cups.
“Here,” she said, “you look as though you need this.”
“Thanks.” He took a sip and then glanced up to find her studying him.
“You want to talk about it?” she asked.
“Talk about what?”
