things went tits up. We all know there’s no shortage of interested parties for experimental viral weapons, so it wouldn’t take much to set up new ones.”

True. “How long would that take?”

Tag lifted his head, his attention zeroing in on me as I paced. “Considering

you have to get word out to attract the right kind of attention—”

“More like wrong kind of attention,” I corrected.

He grinned. “And you can’t rely on standard phone calls and emails, it could

easily take a month or so to set up communications with middlemen or with the

buyers directly.” He shared a look with Kayden. “With what Ellery was offering,

the need to stay under the radar would be vital to staying alive.”

I stopped and looked between the two men. “What am I missing?”

Kayden grimaced and Tag ducked his head, fingers resuming their dance

over the keyboard.

Kayden finally spoke up. “Ask Delacourt.”

My hands went to my hips, and I narrowed my gaze. “How much

information is she holding?”

“Enough.” Kayden shot a look at the clock. “She’ll be here soon, so you can

pester her to your heart’s content then.” He sat up and stretched. “In the meantime, I’m hungry. Let’s order dinner.”

Not the most subtle of conversation changers, but since I wasn’t sure my stomach could handle anything, I let them argue the merits of pizza versus hamburgers without chiming in. I went back to the table and my notebook,

determined to get my questions ready.

Delacourt would be here soon, and when she showed up, I wanted answers.

CHAPTER 8

Sometime later, a sharp knock on the door jerked my head up and brought

Tag and Kayden’s conversation to a halt. I shot a startled glance at the clock. Nine o’clock.

While I was still processing the interruption, Tag set his laptop on the coffee

table, and then moved down the hall, gun down by his side. Kayden took up residence in the kitchen, just out of sight of the front door. A taut silence filled the cabin.

A second knock sounded, followed by a curt, “Gunderson, open up.”

As Tag undid the locks on the door, I scrambled to my feet. In the kitchen,

Kayden tucked his gun into the waistband of his faded jeans and moved into the

hall.

“Sir.” Respect colored Tag’s voice. I caught his movement through the

kitchen opening as he stood aside letting our visitor step inside.

“Your dinner, I presume?” The rustle of paper bags preceded the aroma of grilled beef and French Fries.

Six months wasn’t long enough to squash my automatic response to the

sound of Colonel Delacourt’s voice. By the time she entered the room, I was at

parade rest with my face carefully blank.

At five foot seven, Delacourt had an inch on me, but her mere presence still

made me feel small. Silver streaked her short cap of dark hair and there were more lines around her slightly tilted eyes. Somewhere along the line, Delacourt’s

family boasted some Asian flare. In uniform or out, she breathed command. Ever

since we first met on a dusty soccer field doubling as a temporary base, she intimidated me. However, thanks to the circumstances surrounding our last

meeting, intimidation was no longer my primary emotional response.

“Arden.” The rough slide of her voice remained unchanged. “Nice to see

you.”

Polite, I had to be polite. “Wish I could say the same, sir.” Okay, I’d settle for civil. “Considering the situation.” I winced at my lame attempt to temper my

attitude.

Her lips twitched, and her unexpected sign of humor threw me for a loop.

“Here.” She handed a large paper bag to Tag. “Don’t let me keep you from your

dinner.” With her hands free, she shrugged a leather satchel from her shoulder.

Kayden tucked the photos and papers into a hasty pile, making room for Tag

to set out our food. With the file somewhat back together, I went to set it aside,

only to stop when Delacourt held out her hand. “Do you mind?”