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?”
I handed it over. She commandeered the plush chair next to the couch. Its position allowing her to watch the three of us as we settled down to eat.
Before I could take a bite, the manners Becca spent years drumming into my
head came to the fore. “Sir, would you like to join us? I won’t be able to eat all
of this. You’re welcome to half of it.”
“No, thank you, I ate earlier.” She stopped straightening the papers in the file
and looked up. Her lips twitched. “I’m no longer your commanding officer, Arden, I think we can dispense with the ‘sir’.”
“Yes, sir,” I mumbled, then proceeded to take a bite of my cheeseburger. My
concern about not being able to eat proved unfounded when my stomach woke
up with a low grumble.
For a few minutes the quiet of the cabin filled with the rustle of paper and hamburger wrappers, broken by the occasional, “Could you pass me that?”
