Page 27 of Hawk on the Hunt

“Sleep well?” Ace asked.

“Well, yes,” Dylan said, grinning. “But not enough.” And that was entirely Zara’s fault. Well, maybe a little bit his too. After all, it was hard to say no to her, particularly when they had to make up for four years apart.

He was in a good mood. And that hadn’t happened in a long time.

“Grab some coffee,” Ace said, stepping away from the counter, after filling his own mug. “If you want food, just help yourself. There’s bacon in the fridge, and eggs, and whatever else you can find.”

“Thanks, coffee will be just fine.” He rarely ate breakfast, even though today he felt hungry, despite the large late dinner he’d had. He poured himself a cup and joined the others at the table.

Across from it, the TV was on, though the sound was on a low volume so it didn’t interfere with the conversations.

“How’s Phoebe this morning?” Dylan asked.

Ace took a sip from his coffee before replying, “She only fell asleep a couple of hours ago. The baby is getting too big.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“I’ll look in on her later,” Lilly offered. “The baby has been in the right position for almost four weeks. It could come any day now.”

Ace sighed. “Are you ready for the birth, Lilly? I know it’s a big responsibility, but we can’t bring her to a hospital. Maybe I should have thought of it earlier and hired a midwife. Fuck!” He rubbed his neck, clearly anxious.

Lilly put her hand on his forearm. “I know you worry about the birth, but trust me, I read everything there’s to know about home births; and I watched every video out there. I know what to do.”

Slowly, Ace nodded. “Sorry, I don’t mean to freak you out.”

“And aren’t you a doctor, Lilly?” Dylan asked, furrowing his forehead.

She turned her head to him. “Yes, but I ended up in research. Besides my residency, I didn’t really work with patients. But in the last few months, living here at the mansion, I’ve had to apply my skills a few times.”

Turning away from the stove, Olivia came toward the table, carrying a plate with fried eggs. “Lilly helped Tiger after Smith caught him and put him into that damn brain-sucking machine.”

“You tell ‘em, babe,” Tiger said from the door. “A brain-sucking machine it is.” He grinned, then winked at her. “She’s an author and has a way with words, you know,” he joked.

The others laughed, and Dylan had to chuckle too. Everybody in their group of ex-CIA agents and their girlfriends had different skills and strengths, and everybody contributed in their own way as best they could.

“Fuck,” Tiger suddenly hissed and pointed to the TV. “Turn up the volume.”

Yankee reached for the remote and turned up the sound. A reporter spoke from somewhere outside the White House.

“Reports have been confirmed that David Grossman, Vice President Grossman’s son, died unexpectedly in the army hospital in Landstuhl, Germany. He’d been injured in a friendly fire incident in Afghanistan a day earlier, and had been flown to Germany for treatment. The exact cause of death isn’t known yet, but sources say that he might have had a blood clot. An autopsy will be performed. The VP’s office has confirmed that the coffin carrying David Grossman will arrive at Joint Base Andrews tomorrow morning, where it will be greeted by the VP and the president.”

“Joint Base Andrews? That’s not right.” Yankee asked, turning away from the TV and looking at the assembled.

Fox and Michelle entered the kitchen. “We just heard,” Fox said. “It’s all over the news and social media.” Fox pointed to his tablet, and he and Michelle approached.

“Fallen soldiers are flown to Dover in Delaware. I was in the army, I know,” Yankee continued. “They wouldn’t fly him to Joint Base Andrews.”

“Could it be because he’s the VP’s son?” Dylan asked. “Maybe they’re making an exception. Andrews is closer too.”

“That’s it,” Ace said, staring at them, while he pointed his finger to the TV, where the news program continued, showing stock footage from a military aircraft where several marines unloaded a coffin with an American flag draped over it. “That’s what I saw. Six marines carrying a coffin.”

“Your premonition?” Dylan asked.

Ace nodded. “In my premonition I see them carrying a coffin. I felt the explosion, and I felt the heat. They were walking straight into their doom.” He closed his eyes as if to recall more details. Without opening his eyes, he continued, “That’s where it starts.”

“If you’re right,” Yankee said, “if there is an explosion when the coffin arrives, then the VP and the president will die.”

“Yes.” Ace opened his eyes.