Page 41 of Hot Intent

Chairs were in short supply, so she found a corner and hunkered down in it. She leaned against the backpack both for comfort and so no one could steal it while she dozed. They’dgotten precious little sleep since they’d arrived on the island, and the warm, muggy waiting room knocked her out quickly.

It was dark when she woke and the waiting room crowd had thinned considerably. The backpack was still behind her and there was no sign of Alex. Shouldering the pack of gear, she went in search of food.

Eventually, she stumbled across the employee’s cafeteria. She took the mug of soup someone handed her and nodded her thanks. It was some sort of thin broth with canned vegetables floating in it, but it was hot and quieted the growling in her stomach.

She nearly cried as she found a restroom with working toilets and running water in it. Funny how much she’d taken for granted just how amazing a simple flush toilet was.

Bored, she returned to her corner to wait for Alex. She slept on and off through most of the night before a hand on her shoulder made her lurch awake, alarmed.

Alex’s shadowed form bent over her in surgical scrubs. “You look exhausted,” she murmured.

“Time to go,” he said low.

“Do you want some sleep first? The toilets work here, and I’m sure they could find you a bed to grab a nap in.”

“Later.”

She followed him outside. While the city had some electricity restored, she’d heard locals in the waiting room mention a nightly curfew and power blackout. The city was silent and still, almost as dark as the jungle had been.

Alex doffed the scrubs, tied what turned out to be a very light, but bulky, bag on the back of the backpack, and passed the whole thing to her. She shrugged on the shoulder straps and climbed on the mo-ped behind him.

As they pulled away from the hospital, she pondered how Alex had become more of an order-giver in the past year. That,in and of itself wasn’t bad, she supposed. But it could be a little irritating being ordered around. She did have to laugh at herself a little for falling for a guy just like all the other men in her family.

How did her mother tolerate a husband and five sons just like this? The woman must have the patience of Job not to haul off and cold-cock one of them now and then.

The night was cool. The ocean chuckled and murmured nearby, its briny odor hanging thick in the air. The moon, a lopsided disk high overhead, threw cool light down on them as they head north out of the city.

Alex’s back was warm and vital against her front, and she snuggled close against him. His presence reassured her like nothing else on earth. She probably shouldn’t feel so safe given where they were, but she did. She trusted him with her life.

They ran into two military checkpoints, but the sleepy soldiers let them pass when he identified himself as a doctor heading north with medical supplies to treat victims of the hurricane. At the second checkpoint, the soldier opened up the bag hanging from her pack and seemed satisfied with what he saw inside. He waved them through.

The sun was rising by the time they reached the iron gate leading to Oscar’s ruined home. A thin layer of fog rose from the moist earth, making the morning misty and bright.

She was surprised when Alex turned into the driveway.

“I’m beat,” he muttered by way of explanation. “The shed’s intact and we can use it for cover while I go down for a few hours.”

Spoken like a true field operative. “I got plenty of rest yesterday. I’ll take the watch while you sleep,” she offered.

“Deal.”

It took them a few minutes to carry out farm tools, buckets, and junk to make enough room to stretch a tarp on the dirt floorfor Alex. Without further ado, he passed her a loaded pistol, laid down, and passed out.

She sat on the edge of the tarp just inside the door for several hours, watching the day age. A few birds sang outside, and she wondered idly where they’d ridden out the storm and managed not to get blown away. Already, the area was renewing itself, recovering from the storm.

If only she could find a way to do the same for Alex. There had to be a way to renew his soul. To wash away the hurts his parents had caused the boy and to heal the man.

She watched him sleep, memorizing the features of his face. His cheeks were leaner than last year, his hair shorter and his skin darker, as if he’d spent a lot of time in the sun. His mouth spent more time compressed in a tense line than before, but right now it was relaxed, his lips full and kissable. Like this, he looked nearly the same as when she’d met him.

Of course, his eyes were closed. That was where his changes really shouted at her. His gaze now was cold and assessing, where before it had been sardonic at best and cynical at worst. He looked at the world now with a detachment he hadn’t had before. As if everyone around him was a bug potentially to be squashed if they made a wrong move.

She wondered guiltily if it was her fault he’d had to endure whatever had been done to him for the past year. She’d been the one to tip the scales in his life, to force him to choose sides and accept employment at the CIA. Before she and Dawn had come into his life, he’d successfully walked a tightrope between the CIA and the FSB. He’d carved out a life for himself where everyone more or less left him alone.

But no more.

She and Dawn made him vulnerable to pressure. He’d had to give in and choose sides. She was just grateful he’d gone with the United States.

Frankly, she was a little worried about the CIA having given him all the lethal training they apparently had. Even she wasn’t a hundred percent sure he was fully committed to Uncle Sam. It wouldn’t shock her if someday he switched sides and went to work for his father in the FSB.

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