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Take it one step at a time, she told herself sternly.
She’d learned at a very young age that yearning for something and getting it were two entirely different things.
She talked sense into herself while she toweled dry and dressed in one of the cotton sports outfits she’d bought, light blue in color. Maybe, when this was over and they were still standing, she’d branch out from sportswear.
Maybe, when this was all over, if she was still alive and they were still together, she’d buy herself some dresses. Shoes not sneakers. A proper handbag and not a backpack. Dress up instead of down.
If she survived the next little while, having a lover put a whole new perspective on things. Going to the movies and concerts with someone. Company on weekends.
Sex on tap.
Oh God, yes.
The future stretched deliciously in front of her. True, they lived on opposite coasts, but it was possible that she’d lose her job at the NSO. Probable, even. She hadn’t done anything wrong, but her name was tainted now. She’d become a political hot potato in a political city. Maybe—maybe she’d move out West. Maybe—maybe even to Portland. Her best friends lived there, after all. She had no doubt she’d find a job, a good one. Work had never been a problem. And she had considerable savings so she could even afford to take her time.
She walked into the dining room smiling, happy with everything, including the spread on the table. Everything that made for a luscious breakfast was there, including both tea and coffee. Croissants, yes, and muffins, yes. Wholewheat toast, a couple of types of jam, an expensive brand of imported salted butter. Boiled eggs in pretty egg cups. Greek yogurt, muesli, hot waffles and hot syrup. It was more breakfast food than she ate in a week.
“I boiled the eggs myself,” Pierce said proudly, seating her, unfolding a massive linen napkin and placing it on her lap, then sitting down himself. “I timed it. Four minutes. That okay?”
He could have boiled the eggs for twenty-four hours for all she cared. “Fine.”
His hand hovered over the coffee pot and tea pot. “Tea or coffee? He had one of my favorite teas, Lady Grey.”
“Sure. I love tea, and particularly Lady Grey. And then after, I’ll have a cup of coffee, too, wake me right up.”
“Great.” He beamed and kissed her cheek. “Tea coming right up.”
“Someone’s in a good mood.”
“I know.” He winked. “I’m not usually in a good mood in the morning, but I had a fantastic night. And I feel great.”
She put down her croissant and turned to face him. “You know, me too. I feel great. I’m not usually cheerful in the morning, either.”
“Here. Have some carbs and cholesterol.” He thrust a muffin at her, slathered with butter and took her hand. He turned serious. “You know, I think we have something here and—”
They were interrupted by the particular sounds of the HER room coming from Riley’s laptop, and they both sobered, instantly. The ugly mug of the Goblin King filled the screen.
They’d been living for a few hours in a little cocoon, safe and sound. And the world was intruding again. The world had fangs and claws and was full of bad things. It drew blood.
Riley pushed away her plate and reached over for her laptop, all hunger gone.
She looked over at Pierce, a last lingering look, like the last rays of sunshine before darkness descended. She wanted to capture this moment, keep it, but it was like trying to catch the rays of the sun.
The HER room was rarely used for good news.
She clicked on and saw Hope’s face. “Riley, sorry to interrupt, but I’ve got Jacob Black on the line and he wants to talk to you and Pierce.”
It was sad to acknowledge that they couldn’t talk to Jacob Black directly. It was direct testimony to how fucked up this situation was.
“Go,” she said, and Jacob Black’s narrow, grim face filled the screen.
“Riley. Is Pierce with you?”
“Yessir. Jacob.” She shifted and Pierce moved his chair so that he was in the view of the laptop’s camera.
“Sir.” Pierce’s entire body language had shifted, as had hers. No longer relaxed, loose. He was sitting, but at attention. She was sitting, too, straight and stiff. “Sitrep?”
Jacob sighed. “Not good, Jordan. I’ve had back-to-back meetings, and I’ve got General Carville and Colonel Navarro on my side. Not to mention some Army techs who know what they’re doing. But we’re beating our heads against a couple of walls. First of all, brass that doesn’t understand the tech and thinks that we’re blowing smoke out our asses and secondly—” He looked away for a second, jaws clenched tight. Riley was scared for a moment because he looked frightening. He was a dangerous man.
