Chapter 23

23

Fifteen minutes until go time. Three less than the last time Kate checked her watch.

Folded into the chair wedged in next to Fenn's narrow bed, Kate's leg bobbed up and down like a sewing machine needle. At Fenn's pointed gaze she stilled. Anticipation thrummed through her veins, a heady mixture of adrenaline and fear. She watched as Fenn stuffed his dirty clothes under the blankets, a makeshift sleeping man taking shape before her eyes.

Despite her focus, she had to grin. "You've got a real talent for that."

Fenn flashed her a grin, his eyes sparkling under the harsh overhead light. "Many years of practice." He made a face. "Let's just say my teenage years were…interesting."

"I can only imagine."

"Probably not."

"Hah. You probably think I was one of those perfect kids."

He plumped the pillow just so. "Yup."

"Okay." She blew out a breath. "I totally was."

"What a shocker."

His teasing melted the edges off her building anxiety. Exactly what he planned, she guessed. Fenn had been uncharacteristically solicitous all evening, his usual snark and sarcasm replaced by a gentle concern that made her heart ache in a way she wasn't quite ready to examine.

"Hey," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just wanted to say thanks. For not treating me differently, after what I told you about that op. About what I did."

Fenn's hands stilled, his gaze locking with hers. For a moment, he seemed at a loss for words, a rarity for the man who always had a quip or a comeback at the ready.

"You don't have to thank me for that," he said finally, his voice rough with emotion.

She tilted her head, studying him with a newfound curiosity. "Wow, where's the Fenn Scarborough who cracks wise all the time? What happened to that guy?"

He ducked his head, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Maybe that guy needed to grow up a little," he mumbled, his hands fiddling with the sweatpants he'd been about to stuff under the blankets.

Her eyebrows shot up. "Look at you, bringing the introspection."

Fenn's head snapped up, his eyes wide with surprise. "Look at you, bringing the trash talk."

A thrill of pleasure spread through her at his words. She liked this new dynamic between them, the easy banter and the underlying current of respect and understanding.

Her mind wandered as she watched Fenn put the finishing touches on the fake body beneath the bedclothes. Images of a life with him flashed through her mind, snapshots of a future she hardly dared to imagine. Making a bed together, their hands brushing as they smoothed the sheets. Standing side by side in a cozy kitchen, laughing as they attempted to cobble together a meal.

The sound of Fenn's go bag hitting the bed jolted her back to reality. He pulled out his night vision goggles, his expression serious. "I'll be less than a hundred yards away. Max."

"Copy that." She nodded, her throat tight.

Fenn checked his M18. She did the same. Then they both pocketed extra clips and suited up in silence, pulling Kevlar vests on beneath their outer layers.

Fenn's hands were gentle as he checked the positioning of her vest, his touch sending shivers down her spine despite the gravity of the situation.

"Perfect," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear.

They exchanged a look, the weight of the danger ahead hanging heavy between them.

"We could be walking into an army in there," Kate said softly, voicing the fear that had been gnawing at her all evening.

Fenn's jaw tightened, his eyes blazing with determination. "The bigger they are… The more of a pain this is gonna be. But we got this. We've got the Lord on our side, right?"

"Copy that." Kate took a deep breath, drawing strength from his words.

They made their way out of the room, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. Once in the narrow hallway, Fenn slipped away. He'd wind his way out one of the back delivery doors.

She walked boldly past the empty front desk, her head held high. The wind hit her like a physical force as she stepped outside, nearly pushing her back through the door. She leaned into it, ducking her head against the onslaught of snow pelting her face. The icy shards pinged against her goggles, streaking through the air like crazed moths in the cone of light above the door.

Her heart pounded in her chest, adrenaline coursing through her veins. But beneath the fear, beneath the uncertainty, there was a steely resolve. Fenn was out there in the darkness, his night vision goggles allowing him to follow her without giving himself away. No lights, no sound, but she could feel his presence like a physical force, watching her six.

She sent up a silent prayer of thanks that the solar radiation hadn't affected that delicate piece of tech. Without it, Fenn would be blind in the inky blackness of the night.

She forged on, her boots crunching through the snow. The supply depot loomed ahead, a hulking shadow against the starlit sky. Her breath misted in front of her face, a ghostly reminder of the dangers that lay ahead.

She pushed through the wind and snow, her headlamp cutting a swath of light through the darkness. She wished she could fly off, leave this all behind. It had been days since she'd been in the air, and the yearning gnawed at her like a physical ache.

The chain-link fence surrounding the facility was topped with razor wire. A gate stood at the center, double doors wide enough for semi-trucks to pass through with ease. The lock hung open, thick chains dangling from one side.

Kate wrestled one of the gates open, pushing it through a foot-high drift of snow. The hinges creaked in protest, the sound lost to the howling wind. She crunched across the empty yard, her boots leaving deep impressions in the pristine snow.

As she approached the building, a bright spotlight snapped on, bathing the area in a harsh, artificial light. A door stood open beneath the glare, beckoning her forward.

Kate paused, her heart hammering in her chest. She sent up another prayer, her lips moving silently in the frigid air. Then, with a deep breath, she stepped inside.

The warehouse was cavernous, the high ceilings disappearing into shadows. Shelves towered above her, stacked two stories high with shrink-wrapped pallets. It was like a big- box store for giants, the aisles stretching out before her in a seemingly endless maze.

In the far bay, she could make out the shapes of machinery—snowcats, plows, and snowmobiles, all looking shiny and new. But it was the sound of footsteps that drew her attention, echoing from the catwalk high above.

She yanked off one mitten and reached into her parka for her M18. Her hand tightened around the butt of the weapon, her finger hovering over the trigger. She looked up, squinting against the glare of the overhead lights.

"Marcus?" she called out, her voice echoing in the vast space.

A figure emerged from the dark stairway, silhouetted against the bright light behind him. From his broad outline, she guessed it was the silent Marcus from the tavern. Right on the first count, at least.

Her stomach clenched. She lightened her grip on her weapon, ready to draw it in a heartbeat. But the man, Marcus, stopped at the base of the last step.

Those intense eyes bored into hers. "Hello, Kate."

Maintaining eye contact, he raised his hands, palms up. Then he yanked the beanie off his head, releasing a cloud of dark, stringy curls. But his hands kept moving. His fingers dug into the beard, peeling it off his face.

Her breath caught in her throat, her heart skipping a beat. The line of his bare jaw tickled a deep memory. Fuzzy, but––

And then he pressed a hand to his nose, pulling off a silicone prosthetic.

She took a step back, her brain overloading like a pinball machine. She knew that face.

That man.

His mouth lifted in a grim smile. "So you do remember."

She felt her knees go weak, her vision blurring with sudden tears.

"Hawk?" she whispered, the name a prayer and a curse all at once.