Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
“If I have to.” The heat from the fire roared through the room, burning Christian’s ears. The walls started to close in. He wished he could be outside with Tika running through the trees.
Ace groaned. “Go concentrate on Damian and not me. We all know he’s probably in trouble working at EVE, and frankly, he hasn’t dated anybody since he got divorced. You should figure that out.”
The Electromagnetic Vibrational Experiment, or EVE, was a facility through the pass that included many satellite dishes, a massive antenna field, and grids of transmitters sprawling over fifty acres. Supposedly they studied the ionosphere there, but nobody really knew. Damian had recently become the head of security for the place, which did not make sense.
Christian lifted his chin. “Damian got married for a job, probably during some spook spying shit, and then ended it. That’s not real.”
Ace shrugged. “I don’t know. He bunked with me last time he came home, before he went to work at EVE, and yelled out the name Stella. His ex-wife.”
That was news. “Fine. We’ll figure out Damian next. For now, I’m here to give you a heads-up. Somebody set fire via an explosive device to the storage building between Sam’s and Friday’s, and Amka was inside. She’s okay, but I wouldn’t mind a few of us keeping an eye on the tavern for a while.”
Ace stared at him.
Christian stared back, confident his face betrayed nothing.
“Why?” Ace asked.
“If we have somebody in town trying to burn it down, we should find out who. Don’t you think?”
Ace leaned his head back. “Fine. I’ll come to town more often.”
Christian relaxed. Ace might be killing his liver with booze, but he could fight if necessary. Brutally. “All right. We’ll talk more about drinking later.” Christian had to get out of there.
“Can’t wait,” Ace drawled.
Dr. May Smirnov slid out of bed and pulled on leggings and a sweatshirt. She moved quietly through the hallway into the main room of her cabin, flipping on the lights as she passed. The fire had burned low, so she added two more logs and stirred the embers until they caught. She reached behind the stacked wood where two guns were partially visible, shifting them into better cover. The others were already stored—one in the locked drawer beneath the sink, the rest where no one would find them unless they had a key and time.
She went to the door and unlocked the two middle bolts, leaving the top and bottom in place. She nudged down the floor bolt she always engaged at night to keep the door from being kicked open and checked the windows out of habit. Everything was still covered. No gaps.
In the kitchen, she opened a bottle of sparkling water and paused. Wine crossed her mind, but that was out. If Amka had a head injury, alcohol was a bad idea.
A knock came. Soft.
May still flinched.
She exhaled, shook it off, and went to the door to unlock the remaining bolts. She opened it just far enough to confirm it was Amka and then let her in. “Come on,” she said. “You’re pale. Are you hurt?”
“I’m all right. I took some Advil.” Amka stepped inside.
That wouldn’t be enough if there were cracked ribs. May bit back the impulse to ask for a pain scale rating and helped her out of her jacket. “Do you want me to prescribe something stronger?”
Amka kicked off her boots and hung her hat on a hook. “No, thanks. I need to keep my wits these days.”
“Sit.” May resisted the habit to check her friend’s vitals. She noted Amka’s pallor and the guarded way she moved while favoring one side. That bruised rib must be hurting her. “I have sparkling water and some hot chocolate somewhere. Are you hungry?”
“No, thank you. Sparkling water is good.” Amka walked into the main room and sat back in the corner of the couch, arms wrapped around herself.
May poured the water and brought it to her. “Here.”
Amka took it with both hands, her fingers shaking.
May sat across from her, cataloging her friend’s breath rates and composure. She tucked one leg beneath her. “All right. What’s going on?”
Amka stared at the glass for a moment. Then she looked up. “I needed to talk to someone. Since you’re my doctor, that means this stays here, right? Confidential?”
May gave a short nod. “It does.”
Amka stared at her, face unreadable, eyes sharp in the low light. “No matter what?”
May took a sip of her drink. “Of course. Always, Amka. If not by friendship, then definitely by doctor-patient confidentiality.”
“So you can’t tell anyone what I’m about to say?”
Awareness crawled up May’s spine. “I promise I won’t say anything unless you’re in danger. Or someone else is. If that’s the case, I have to speak up.”
“The danger is in letting this get out,” Amka said. Her mouth curved into something that might have been a smile but looked more like a pained grimace.