by MB Panichi
“Not like you were busy,” he returned with a smirk. He laughed and got up, moved past her to the door and tapped a couple of codes into the security pad.
“Fucking voyeur.”
“She’s real pretty, by the way. Lissa must be pissed as hell.”
Shaine rolled her eyes. “You locking us in?”
Ellerand snorted. “Private conversation. Program kills any bugs, jams any transceivers, overrides security codes. Nobody can get in. Not even Rogan. ’Cuz you’re gonna love this.”
Shaine followed him to his desk and pulled up a rolling stool. “This better be good, Kyle.”
Ellerand dropped into his chair. “Oh, it’s good.” He leaned toward the monitors, swept a finger across one, then another, and gave Shaine an expectant look.
“Blueprints. So? We’ve already been over these.”
“What do you see?”
“Just spit it out.”
He zoomed in one of the screens. “What’s that look like to you?”
She shrugged. “Some kind of electrical junction point.”
“Close. Now look over here.” He zoomed in on the image showing on a second screen. “What’s this look like to you?”
Shaine reached to the screen, dialed in closer and studied the picture. “It’s a fucking phase detonator,” she breathed, her eyes widening.
“The whole place is wired to blow, Wendt.”
“Rogan doesn’t know about this.”
Ellerand shook his head. “Just you and me. This is an updated version of the blueprints. I haven’t passed it to him. It’s uploaded to your pad.”
Shaine rolled the stool back from the monitors. “This is supposed to be quick in, do the job, and quick out. Not a demolition.”
Ellerand snorted. “Rogan’s not expecting you to come back alive.”
“Rogan never expects me to come back alive,” she countered evenly. “And he’s always wrong. We’ve talked about this before, Kyle.” She frowned, thinking. “Why does Charun have the place wired?” she asked.
Ellerand shrugged. “He’s either crazy paranoid, or he actually has something to hide. In any case, if all hell breaks loose, you can hit the big red button and get the fuck out. It eliminates the evidence and at least buys you a chance. It’s better than the odds Rogan’s giving you.”
She sighed. That was true. But she wouldn’t use that option unless she had no other choices. “Where’s the big red button?”
Ellerand grinned and zoomed out of the blueprint. “In Charun’s bedroom.”
“Great. Any idea how much time I have if I hit the button?”
He shrugged. “No idea. But Charun’s a planner. He’s gonna give himself a way out. My guess is he’s got an escape vehicle tucked away close by. Nothing showing in the blueprints, though.”
“Yeah.”
Ellerand tapped at the keyboard. The two monitors blanked out. “Now nobody else is gonna know,” he said evenly.
“And Rogan can’t tell me not to trash the place if he doesn’t know about the self-destruct. I can always blame it on Charun.” Shaine stood. “Thanks, Kyle.”
Ellerand shrugged, giving her a bittersweet expression. “If anyone can do the job, it’s you, Shaine. That’s why I called you in now, without Rogan and Barill around. This’ll give you a fighting chance if it all goes to hell.”
She said nothing. To save Morgan’s life, I’ll fucking move mountains.
He gave her a serious look. “Get outta here, Wendt. I’ll see ya in the morning.”
She smiled tiredly and slipped away. Exhaustion washed over her as the door slid shut. She paused to lean against the thick frame, pulling herself together. Just get back to the suite. Don’t think, just walk. She pushed off the wall.
It seemed to take forever to reach the suite. Feeling a distinct sense of déjà vu, she kicked off her boots when she got in the door and padded barefoot across cold tile and warm carpet. She half-expected to find Morgan sleeping on the sofa, but the living room was dark and silent. She walked through to pause at the bedroom door. A dim shaft of light cut across the bed from the partly open bathroom door.
Morgan had cocooned herself in the comforter, curled into an almost fetal position, nearly hidden in the soft folds. Dark hair spilled over the white pillowcase. Shaine found something almost painfully vulnerable about the image. God, Morgan, I can’t lose you. We haven’t even had a chance to try.
She kept running Ellerand’s discovery of the self-destruct through her brain. It was an unexpected twist, and it made her uneasy. What was Charun hiding? Or was he, as Ellerand suggested, just a crazy paranoid bastard? Either way, she didn’t like it. It added a complication that she didn’t need, and a compulsion to understand what was behind it. But that wasn’t her mission. Quick in, quick kill, quick out. That was the plan she needed to focus on.
Eight years in Special Ops had trained her not to think extraneous thoughts. Just do the job. Follow the orders. Find a way. Complete the mission. No outside concerns, no emotional involvement. Even in Rogan’s security group, she’d been able to distance herself enough to just get the job done. This time, though—damn. There was no distance here.
Just watching Morgan sleep made her ache. Need, desire, attachment? God. Whatever it was, she could not fuck up this assignment—or this relationship.
She stripped out of her pants and top. Easing onto the bed, she wriggled her way under the covers and spooned against the warmth of Morgan’s skin. Tucking a hand under her pillow, she draped her other arm around Morgan’s waist.
Morgan mumbled and shifted closer against her.
Shaine closed her eyes and waited for sleep.
Chapter Nineteen
Shaine leaned over a worktable scattered with maps, papers, and comp pads. Kyle Ellerand stood at her side, looking up some detail on his pad. Rogan and Cord Barill faced them on the other side of the table.
Rogan tapped something into his pad. After a couple of seconds, he glanced up. “We’re good to go.” His gaze touched Shaine and Cord Barill. “In three hours at the roof launchpad.”
Barill nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Shaine merely blinked expressionlessly.
Rogan acknowledged Barill, glared at Shaine, and turned and stalked away, taking the pad with him.
Shaine glanced at Ellerand. “I need your screens a minute.”
“Sure.”
She followed him back to the long counter serving as his desk.
“What’cha need?” he asked.
“To find Morgan.”
“No problem. Told you, I got her covered.” He tapped on the keyboard. An array of windows came up on the nearest monitor, which he surreptitiously turned away from other eyes.
Shaine scanned the security camera feeds—more than she’d expected. She was tempted to ask which cameras were official and which ones Ellerand had set up outside the system.
Ellerand’s fingers sprinted over the keys. The windows shifted rapidly until one centered and highlighted a view inside the conservatory. “There,” he said.
Shaine couldn’t stop her quick intake of breath or her smile.
On a lush grassy patch tucked behind a row of thick, flowering thornbushes, Morgan lay on her stomach, propped on an elbow, scribbling with a stylus on her comp pad. She wore faded black cargo pants and a long-sleeved gray tunic. Dark bangs hid her eyes and shadowed her face.
“You okay, Wendt?”
She shook herself and shoved her hands in her pockets. “Yeah, I’m good.”
Ellerand smirked at her. A tap on the keyboard, and the window went black. “Gee,” he said, “looks like the camera went out.”
Shaine laughed. Her face flushed. “Talk to you later.” Grinning, she hurried out of the security room.
She found Morgan at the back of the garden, as far off the path as possible. She slipped silently through the break in the bushes that Morgan must have gone through, stood and watched her lover for a long minute. Morgan still lay on her stomach in the gr
ass, her slim frame stretched out comfortably with her feet crossed.
Shaine licked her lips thoughtfully and eased forward.
Morgan’s head snapped around, dark eyes wary for an instant before her expression relaxed in recognition. “Hey, Shaine.”
“Hi.” Shaine dropped onto the grass beside Morgan, who set her pad aside and rolled over to face her.
“You have some down time?”
Shaine took a breath, hesitated, and finally nodded. When Morgan cocked her head at the indecision, she said, “I’m leaving in a couple of hours.”
A long second of silence hung between them. Morgan processed the statement. Her expression shifted to concern.
Shaine ran a finger lightly along the healing scar on Morgan’s cheek. “I’ll be back soon.”
Morgan turned her head and kissed Shaine’s fingers. “Please be careful.”
“I will.” Shaine tried to hide the shiver running through her at Morgan’s touch. She didn’t want Morgan to worry. She wanted Morgan to smile.
She shifted closer, gently pushed Morgan back onto the grass and leaned over her, smoothing her bangs back, tracing along her jaw and the soft lips that parted at her touch. Emotion and need rolled through her, blinded her. She covered Morgan’s mouth with hers in a deep kiss. Her body stretched alongside Morgan’s. She ran her hand along Morgan’s side.
Morgan shuddered, wrapping arms tightly around her, deepening the kiss with an aggression Shaine found surprising.
A long time passed before they separated for air. Shaine’s heart pounded in her chest. Need pulsed low in her abdomen. She shifted, pulling Morgan’s head down on her shoulder, holding her close.
Morgan sighed against her.
Shaine reveled in the warm breath on her neck. She wanted so badly to make love to Morgan, but there wasn’t time. She realized the tightness in her throat was because she wanted—needed—Morgan so badly. God, get a hold of yourself. You are coming back. You will have this chance again.
Morgan snuggled closer.
Shaine closed her eyes and tried to even out her breathing. She didn’t want to admit it, but she was scared, on the edge of her careful control. This was the first time going into a mission that she’d ever felt like she had anything to lose.
She must’ve stiffened, because Morgan leaned away from her and cupped her cheek. “It’ll be okay, Shaine. It will.”
Shaine turned her face to kiss Morgan’s palm and gazed into the depths of Morgan’s gray eyes. I want to believe that. “Just let me hold you,” she whispered.
Morgan relaxed into her embrace.
Shaine buried her face in Morgan’s hair to breathe in her scent. Slowly, she felt her heart rate slow to normal. The fear receded. Morgan’s weight against her was a comforting anchor—warm and inviting.
Morgan’s fingers slid under the fabric of her shirt, tracing gentle patterns on her skin. The repetition was hypnotic, calming.
Shaine let the touch relax the tension in her shoulders until she felt almost normal.
Morgan whispered, “Can I ask where you’ll be?”
Shaine sighed, shook her head, and murmured into Morgan’s hair. “The less you know, the better.”
“It’s going to be weird here without you.”
“I won’t be gone long.”
Morgan rolled away to lie on her back, folding an arm behind her head and finding Shaine’s hand. She laced their fingers together.
Shaine smiled at the feel of Morgan’s fingers twined with hers.
Morgan stared up into the domed glass ceiling, squinting at the light, and asked, “What happens when you get back?”
Shaine squeezed Morgan’s hand. “I haven’t honestly thought that far ahead,” she admitted. “What do you want to happen?”
Morgan looked at her. “I think I’d like to go back to Moon Base,” she said slowly. “I just want my life back.”
Shaine felt a stab of panic. She managed a hoarse whisper, “Will I be a part of that?”
“God, yes. I mean—if you want to be.” Worry flitted across Morgan’s features and darkened her eyes.
Shaine sighed in relief. “Morgan, baby, you’d have a hell of a time getting rid of me.”
Morgan grinned, leaned over and dropped a light kiss on Shaine’s mouth. “Good.” She smiled and eased down to use Shaine’s arm as a pillow, sighed and closed her eyes.
Shaine studied Morgan’s profile, the small nose, the delicate planes of her face. The word “elfin” floated through her head. She smiled to herself. After a bit, she said, “While I’m gone, you’ll be careful, right?” She almost added a caution about Lissa Hedding, but stopped before the warning tumbled out. Morgan didn’t need more suspicions and worries. Lissa might be an informer, but the woman had never been an assassin, never had the nerve for that line of work. She blew out a slow breath and forced herself to relax. “Remember what I said about having my pistol with you?”
Morgan nodded without opening her eyes. “It’s in my pocket,” she said. “And I’ll be careful. Can’t imagine there’s going to be a whole lot going on here, anyway. I’ll probably be bored out of my mind.”
Shaine smiled. “Download a pile of movies and camp out for a couple days,” she suggested. She shut her eyes, enjoying the moment with her lover.
“I guess.” Morgan sighed. “Hey, Shaine?”
“Yeah?”
Suddenly Shaine felt Morgan’s weight on top of her and warm breath against her lips.
“I don’t want to talk anymore,” Morgan whispered.
Shaine opened her eyes.
Morgan took her breath away, kissing her hard and deep.
Shaine surrendered to desire. She didn’t want to talk anymore, either.
Chapter Twenty
Shaine stopped off at Kyle Ellerand’s office on her way to the roof launchpad. As usual, Ellerand sat at the back of the room, intent on his keyboards and monitors. Code scrolled quickly across one of the monitors while two others showed a series of red and green nodes across a network diagram, flashing almost in time to the rhythm of his fingers on the keys. He looked up as she strode into the room and hit a key to pause the code screen.
“Got anything new?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No. No changes.” He reached across the workspace to hand her a comp pad. “Everything you need’s on here.”
“Thanks, Kyle.”
He nodded. His face solemn, he said, “Be careful, yeah?”
“I will.”
“I’ll keep an eye on Morgan for you.”
Shaine took a long breath, closing her eyes for a second when it hit her again that she wasn’t going to be there to protect Morgan from harm. God, what am I fucking doing? She managed a thin smile. “Thanks.” The alarm on her wrist chron bleeped. “Gotta run. Later, Kyle.” Relieved not to have more time to think, she escaped the cramped space before her emotions got the better of her.
By the time she reached the roof, Barill already sat in the pilot’s chair of the heli-jet. The side mounted jet engines rumbled in idle. The rotor blades rotated slowly. Half jet and half helicopter, the craft could do a vertical takeoff and landing, and use its engines for forward cruising. Fast and maneuverable, it was her preferred method of transportation.
Shifting her gear pack more securely onto her back, Shaine crossed the launchpad and pulled herself up the three-rung ladder into the heli-jet. She hauled up the ladder behind her and locked it down into the floor, then pulled the heavy cargo hatch shut, spinning the manual seal. After stowing her backpack in a rear storage locker, she took a second to check the weatherproof crate packed with her survival gear and strapped into place.
She climbed up front and dropped into the co-pilot’s seat, settling the headset over her ears and pulling the four-point harness across her body.
Barill glanced at her. “Ready?”
“Yeah.” She glanced across the instrument board. “You did pre-flight?”
“I did.” Barill tapped the com. “C
ontrol. This is Flyer One. Are we clear?”
“All clear, Flyer One. Anytime you’re ready.”
“Roger that. We’re gone.”
Fifteen seconds later, she and Barill were airborne, angling rapidly into the sky over New York City. Shaine loved the rapid ascent to cruising altitude near forty thousand feet, especially in clear skies like today, and she settled in for a long flight. She glanced at the controls, but was more than content to let Barill do the piloting. She could fly in a pinch, but her training had been intended only for emergencies.
She watched the land far below and ran through the plan she and Ellerand had devised. It wasn’t much of a plan, really. Barill would fly her into Biskra. From there she’d catch a weather station chopper headed into the Sahara. The chopper would drop her at the specified coordinates and she would finish her journey to Charun’s desert compound on foot. She and Kyle had figured out a route into the building through the air ventilation system, marked on the blueprints loaded in her pad. What happened when she got in and how she would get out—well, that would all just depend.
Hours later, they flew into Biskra under the cover of night. Barill landed the heli-jet in a quasi-military compound with Weather Service markings on its landing pad. As the heli-jet touched down, Shaine saw a figure jogging toward them from one of the low surrounding buildings, a uniformed body silhouetted against a shaft of light from the open door.
Barill idled the engines and gave Shaine a thumbs-up. “You’re clear. Good hunting, Wendt.”
She returned the thumbs-up and pulled off the headset, clipping it to the control board. She moved into the main cargo area, retrieved her backpack, and released her gear box from its place on the floor. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted the side hatch auto-releasing. Her ears popped when the air pressure changed. A swirl of gritty sand and dust scraped her face when the hatch swung open.
The man from the building leaned in. “Are you Wendt?” he yelled over the engine noise.
She nodded.
“Lieutenant Reyes, Global Weather Systems,” he introduced himself.
Shaine acknowledged him and shoved the rectangular container toward the hatch. Reyes grabbed the handle on his end. Slinging her backpack over her shoulders, she dropped down to the ground and took hold of the other handle. With his help, she carried the box to the edge of the landing pad, dropped it off, and jogged back to the open hatch. She slammed the heavy door shut and slapped the side of the chopper a couple of times before ducking away. When she cleared rotor range, the heli-jet lifted off with a roar.