ChapterTwenty-Five
The back room of the stamp-sized post office was what one would expect for an office that was only open for four hours twice a week during the off-season. Audrey figured they’d committed a federal crime by breaking in, but Xavier had wanted her inside the log structure because the thick log walls were as close to bulletproof as possible and there was only one small window at the front, which was inset in the door.
It was a tiny fortress.
But the thick walls and lack of windows also meant Audrey couldn’t see what was happening outside, just a hundred yards away.
The next hour was destined to be the longest of her life as she would wait and wonder if the father of her unborn child would return.
And then there was George. He’d more than proven he was an adversary for the mercenaries who’d invaded his forest, but he didn’t have body armor like the SEALs, and it had been more than fifty years since he’d fought in a war.
It was useless to pace such a small room, so she dropped down in a corner and wrapped her arms around her knees. But it didn’t take long for shivering to overtake her, and she was back on her feet.
She was nauseated and dizzy. She needed to eat, but knew without a doubt that she’d vomit up anything she put in her mouth.
How the hell did Xavier and the others do this sort of thing?
This was their job.
She’d always respected the men and women who served in the military, but this was the first time she’d ever faced the reality of their world.
She’d spent hours chatting with Undine’s husband, Luke, and even knew a bit about what he’d done when an old Russian nuke—a Cold War leftover—had been found in the Strait of Juan de Fuca a few years ago. But even that threat—which could have resulted in a massive tsunami that would have wiped out the Pacific Northwest—hadn’t held this level of tangible fear, because she’d heard about it more than a year after the danger had passed.
Now she understood in a way that she never could have grasped before. This was even worse than last night, when she’d paced and talked to the baby alone in the Jamison cabin.
Last night, she’d believed she was safe and Xavier would be back in a matter of hours. Tonight, she knew that improvised bombs would begin to go off in a matter of minutes.
What if she was wrong in her interpretation of George’s note? What if he hadn’t been able to enter the lodge and the bigfoot door was locked and guarded?
Sure, she’d been right about the donkey engine, but that had been easy. Lightbulbs in the library was a bigger leap.
This was the world’s worst game of Clue.
Time moved with aching slowness as she committed more federal crimes by looking at the stack of mail in the “undeliverable” bin.
Even though there were no windows for light to leak through, she used the red-tipped flashlight to read the envelopes.
This was a rotten invasion of privacy, but it was keeping her from losing her mind.
She paused on an envelope addressed to Jeb. “Addressee unknown” was written in his messy scrawl. She knew his handwriting from the numerous times he’d petitioned her office to step in and use the National Historic Preservation Act to prevent something from happening in the park.
Jeb would always be a mystery now, and her grief at never really having known him grew.
She left the stacks of mail and slipped into the front of the post office. She’d been in this vestibule many times. The entire building—including the attached museum—was a contributing element to the National Register Historic District. But never had the tiny space seemed so…ominous.
Across the street, a battle would be waged in a matter of minutes. And it wasn’t just any battle, it was potentially the first salvo of a Russian invasion of American soil.
Take away everything personal about it, and it was still gut-wrenchingly terrifying.
This was a meticulously planned assault on a United States special operations team on US soil. It didn’t get more dire than that.
Add in the personal aspects, and she could barely breathe.
She’d wanted her baby from the moment she’d realized she was pregnant, and now, after a month of heartache and turmoil, she had a new truth: she wanted Xavier with the same ferocity.
And she could lose him. Tonight. In a matter of minutes. And there was nothing she could do about it. She’d played every card she had already.
Then there was George, who’d been something of a mentor to her along with Roy when she was young, and who’d become a friend in adulthood. If any of them survived this, it would be thanks to George. His cunning. His knowledge. His badass guerilla fighting skills that he’d acquired a lifetime ago in a foreign land, forced to serve in the military by a government that had betrayed his people for hundreds of years.