She didn’t know if she should admit she’d missed him or not. If she did, it’d be like a deathbed confession, said because she knew she’d never have another chance. Call her superstitious, but she’d rather wait to make any emotional declarations until they were safe.
“Lucky me,” she said instead, putting all the things she couldn’t say into her smile and hoping he understood. “I’m glad I rate the best.”
* * *
BLAKE WISHED she hadn’t smiled.
It touched something inside him, ratcheted the stakes so much higher.
He was here to do a job, and he couldn’t do that job if he let emotions in. Any kind of emotions. The key to a successful mission was a clear mind, the ability to think three steps ahead and a solid handle on the outcome, while keeping a fluid sense of the steps in between.
He’d learned early in his career that the only way to succeed was to shut out fear. Worrying, in any form, was the equivalent of strapping a bull’s-eye on his back.
He shouldn’t have kissed her.
He was on a mission.
She was his mission.
Kissing the rescue target was totally against protocol.
He hadn’t been able to resist.
Blake hefted his pack onto his shoulders again, then checked the time.
Two minutes.
“Let’s go.”
He made sure she was situated on the chair, then grabbed the windowsill and pulled himself up. He glanced at her again.
“Promise. You do exactly what I say.”
“Promise.”
“Even if I say run, without me, you’ll do it. The coordinates, a compass and a GPS are in your jacket. Don’t take it off.”
Her eyes were huge behind the protective lenses. Her nod was a jerk of her chin. But her lips were pressed in a determined line, and if her hands were shaking inside her gloves, the tremor was mild.
She’d hold up.
Blake glanced at the compound again, then reached down to pull the cloth, embedded with a tiny communication wire, across her lower face. Then he did the same to his own.
“Ready?” he whispered.
She gave a tiny start, indicating that she’d heard him through her headphones, and nodded again.
“Then let’s rock.”
He flipped the switch on his lenses, triggering the heat sensors. Two guards on the east side, one on the west. He glanced at his watch.
One minute.
One hand holding his weapon, Blake shimmied through the window, gripping the stones surrounding it and pulling himself free. He reached in to aid Alexia, but she’d already grabbed ahold of the sill and had herself halfway out. He took her hand, pulling her up so her toes were balanced on the sill and the rest of her against the stone wall, then bent low to snag the rope.
“Wait until I’m down, then follow,” he said quietly.
Her gaze ricocheted around the compound as if she was watching for the devil to come riding in. But she nodded. Using the rope, his back to the wall so he could watch for threats, he quickly lowered himself to the ground. He sank into the snow to midcalf.
It only took him a second to reach into the small white pack he’d stashed at the base of the wall and pull out the snowshoes. Fully alert, his finger still on the trigger of his revolver, he swiftly stepped into them.
“Go,” he told Alexia.
She flew down the wall. He winced twice as her body bounced off the stones, but she didn’t slow. Clearly she wanted the hell out of here.
He liked giving a lady what she wanted.
“Put these on,” he told her as soon as she’d released the rope. She squinted at the snowshoes, then nodded. He made sure she knew what she was doing as she put the first one on. He glanced at his watch as she finished the second.
One minute past. The explosion should have already happened, providing cover for their escape. He scanned the guards again. Still in place.
Recalling one of Phil’s favorite sayings, no worries, no bull’s-eyes, he reached into his boot and pulled out his backup Glock.
“Ready?” he asked Alexia, giving her a once-over.
“Ready.”
He handed her the gun.
Her gasp echoed in his ears. But she took it. With a sureness that’d do the admiral proud, she checked the clip, the safety. Her breath just as loud in his speaker again, she nodded.
What a woman.
Grinning behind his mask, Blake tilted his head to the north. Time to go.
As soon as he stepped a foot from the building, he was buffeted by driving snow.
“Hold on to my belt,” he instructed.
A second later he felt the pressure of her fingers. Good. Now he could focus ahead without needing to check her progress.
Without the wind and snow, they could have made the hundred and fifty yards to the fence line in less than half a minute. But running at a crouch through a foot of snow took twice that.
When they reached the bare expanse of wire fence, he stooped. Alexia did the same. Watching constantly, he pulled out what looked like a pair of tiny rubber pincers. He’d come in overhead, rappelling from the trees to the top of the building. To leave, they needed to cut the barbed wire.
He hesitated. As soon as he clamped the wires, an alarm would sound. If the compound had already been hit, the chaos would have covered their escape.
This, or the gates, were the only way out. Orders were to stay covert and not to engage the enemy.
So they’d stick with the plan. And run a little faster.
He took a deep breath.
Then, knowing what was likely to come, he looked at Alexia. Her brown eyes were huge, her lips white. Still, she gave him a reassuring smile.
“So far so good,” she whispered.
He nodded.
“As soon as I cut this, we’re tagged. There’s a vehicle waiting a mile to the east. In it is a radio in case you have to communicate with anyone.” He hesitated, then decided she was strong enough—had to be strong enough—to face reality. “If we’re engaged, you keep running. Don’t wait for me. Don’t look back or try to help. Head for the vehicle, get the hell out of here.”
“But—”
“Get the hell out,” he repeated firmly.
Her chin trembled. He watched, fascinated, as she breathed in, seeming to suck strength from the air. She squared her jaw, resolve steely in her eyes. And she nodded.
“Attagirl,” he whispered.
Then he clamped the wires.
The world exploded. Fire filled the air. Rocks flew. The ground shook. Alexia ducked low, covering the back of her head with her hands.
“And there’s the cavalry,” he said with a grin, cutting the wires. “Go.”
She gave a wide-eyed look at the now-flaming building, bodies scurrying like rats to and from the inferno. Then she crouched down low, sliding through the wires he’d cut.
“Hold my