Page 109 of Long Past Deadly

She didn’t know the half of it. This made it all the more imperative she talk to him and give him the parameters of what they expected. Everybody had to do their job.

She deposited her bag in Quaid’s office, claimed the knife from the desk drawer, and silently thanked Mackey for understanding the need to arm Whit. She climbed the two flights of stairs, mumbling all the way. She couldn’t control Whit. She never could. Guilt. Begging. Logical arguments. Nothing worked on him. Whit had a strict code and expected people to live by it. Unfortunately, life rarely worked that way.

His desire for control came from years in combat and the loss of his mother to an abusive husband. Whether he could have changed her death if he hadn’t joined the Army was beside the point. His mother had pressured him to go, to start his life, and to move out of the cycle they were stuck in. He’d promised to help her, then hadn’t been able to. Alanna was convinced it was why he had stuck to her like sticker burrs while they were in the streets. If he hadn’t, she wouldn’t be standing here.

After two training sessions and all the afternoon walking, her knees objected to the two flights of stairs. She knocked on 501 and waited.

Whit opened the door and huffed. “Wondered where you went to.” Dressed in new jeans and a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, he made his way to the chair where he’d been watching television. He’d had a shower and a shave, dressed, then eaten.

She shut the door and went to sit on the bed. “You are obviously feeling better.”

“Not a complainer.”

“No, you’re not. But save your strength. Mackey has a plan, and he’ll tell you what they need you to do.”

“I thought we were both doing this thing.”

“I have a role and so do you.”

“I’ll back you.”

“I have backup, Whit.”

“Pretty boy won’t do it.”

“Pretty boy is more qualified than you. He’s done this for a living for a long time.”

“Pffft. Sure.”

Whit was falling for the same misperception she had at the beginning and it doubled her remorse for the way she’d misjudged Quaid. “He’s a top-notch warrior, Whit. Don’t make the mistake of underestimating him. And Mackey was Delta.”

“Damn door kickers. All brawn and no brains.”

Alanna rose, leaning in to smell his breath. Honestly, he acted like he’d been drinking. “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing. Frustrated from sitting around. And you can quit sniffing. I never touch the stuff. That hasn’t changed.”

“Good to know, but you need more rest.”

“I’m fine. Tell me more about what we’re doing.”

Oh, that was a very bad idea. The man seriously could act like Rambo sometimes. Frankly, his skilled operator stage had passed for him about ten years ago. She had more active skills than he did.

“It’s the antibiotics and pain killers speaking, not a true healing.”

“Doesn’t matter. If it keeps me on my feet until we catch him, then my job here is done.”

If there was a way to renege on her agreement with him, she’d take it. She’d given her approval while lost in how grateful she was that he was alive and fresh in the memory of how he’d protected her all those years ago. She studied the lines in his face. “Who have you saved lately?”

“What do you mean?”

“Who on the streets have you saved lately? You never were without a kid or two tagging along.”

“Don’t really do that anymore. Everybody makes bad judgments on who you are if you have young’uns hanging on.”

“So you quit helping the kids.”

“Well, I went to work at the mission. I talk to a lot of them there, help with homework, give advice, and read to them. But it’s not like it used to be anymore.”