“I’m in awe of you, Audrey. I hate myself for what I did to you. For the situation that has put you in. And even after all that, you’re here, working with me. You know this park, and you know these people and their cabins. I’d be lost without you.”
She lifted her head, letting him see the tears that spilled down her cheeks. She’d entranced him from his first glimpse of her face—those same broad cheeks had been smudged with dirt, and her dark hair had been pulled back in a scraggly braid. She’d looked earthy. Rugged. Utterly enchanting.
When he looked at her, he couldn’t begin to understand the choices he’d made that had deliberately hurt her. He had to force himself to remember the chemical attack in Prague. And even then, his cruelty took his own breath away.
“I am so desperately sorry.”
More tears spilled as she gazed into his eyes, reminding him of the stare down they’d shared before their first intense kiss.
She smiled then, and he guessed she was thinking the same thing. “Blink five times if you want to kiss me.” Her words were an echo of the exchange that had preceded that first kiss.
He chuckled and blinked the required number. “I always want to kiss you, Dr. Kendrick. You never need to ask.” He brushed away the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs, cradling her head as he did so.
“I think I’m starting to believe you.”
“About me wanting to kiss you?”
“That, yes. And also that you are genuinely sorry.”
Now his eyes teared, which astonished him. It shouldn’t, though. She’d given him no small thing, and it was far more than he had any right to hope for. “When this is all over, I want to take you to your favorite restaurant. Wine and dine you. I know it’s more than I deserve, but please, give me something to look forward to and tell me you’ll go out with me. Even if it’s only once and only so you can tell me off.”
She gave him a weak laugh even as more tears spilled. “Fine. I’ll let you buy me dinner at my favorite restaurant.”
He dropped a kiss on her cheek, brushing away her salty tears with his lips and feeling strangely light at her promise, even knowing she was probably only saying it to appease him. “Excellent. Where are we going?”
“It’s an amazing seafood restaurant. Asian fusion. Everything on the menu is divine.” She lifted her chin and gave him a crafty grin. “It’s on Oahu.”
He grinned back, imagining Audrey on a sandy beach under a bright blue sky. Bellows Air Force Station had oceanfront cabins on one of the best beaches on the island, available for rent by DoD civilians and active-duty military. The sound of ocean waves would lull them to sleep every night after he made love to her.
He would mentally explore this fantasy further when their situation wasn’t so…completely and utterly dire.
“As soon as I have a working phone, I’ll make us a reservation.” He brushed his lips over hers, then stepped back. “Now, let’s search Jeb’s papers and see if his laptop will boot. I want to see who he’s been corresponding with.”
The damaged SUV looked exactly as it had when they’d found it hours ago. It rested low on the ground with four flat tires, six bullet holes in the rear driver’s-side panel circling the fuel tank.
The holes were big. Whoever had shot up the vehicle had used high-caliber bullets—probably a .45. This was as much a warning as disabling.
Together, Chris and Huang approached the vehicle, standing back-to-back, rotating in a circle, taking no chances while they crossed open ground. At least the moon saw fit to hide behind clouds again, and the rain continued to provide endless cover.
When he reached the driver’s door, he tried the handle. Locked, making him glad he’d remembered to get the tools he needed from Mock, who was the team’s best car thief—or rather, commandeer-er—when a mission called for it. He quickly slipped a wedge between the window and the weather stripping and worked it in until the gap was wide enough for him to slip a thin bent rod through. It took less than twenty seconds to unlock the door.
He reached over the center console for the glove box and pulled out a faux-leather zippered case that probably held the owner’s manual and would have pockets for registration and insurance cards. A quick glance inside and he had what they needed. Audrey Kendrick had renewed her insurance in October.
He snapped a picture of the vehicle registration and insurance card. Ms. Kendrick lived in Port Angeles.
A few years ago, Port Angeles had been at the center of a Ukrainian neo-Nazi group’s terrorist plot to drop a nuke in the Strait of Juan de Fuca and cause tsunamis that would have wiped Seattle, Vancouver, and everything in between off the map.
Was there a chance the tangos here were part of that cell? Could this be related?
It was a razor-thin connection, but Chris wouldn’t rule anything out without more information.
A quick scan of the vehicle interior offered another clue to the woman’s identity. A medium-weight brown jacket with the Olympic National Park logo and an official-looking embroidered patch that said “Park Archaeologist” on the left breast was on the floor of the back seat.
Assuming the jacket belonged to Kendrick, he could conclude she was a park employee. What the hell had she been doing here during the training? He was certain now the SUV wasn’t a prop, as they’d all assumed when they thought it was part of the exercise.
There was nothing else of interest in the front or back seats, so he and Huang moved in unison to the rear hatch. There he found a sleeping bag, muddy boots, a flannel shirt that had seen heavy use, a wool blanket, a professional-grade first aid kit, a box of flares, a portable car battery jump-start kit, and an emergency tire-inflator kit.
Kendrick clearly believed in being prepared. He wondered how many times she’d gotten stuck before those items earned permanent residence in the storage bay.