Now Tasha was still giving him a new WTF look, so he explained. “Maybe whoever set up that roadblock wants the authorities to think you were killed by a certain group of different bad guys. Let them take the blame.”
“Bad Guy Team A frames Bad Guy Team B for my murder.” She got it. “Okay.” But then she shook her head again. “But why risk my not-dying by letting me go? Why not tie me to a tree with the bomb-that-frames-their-mortal-enemies securely in my lap?”
“Because they’re not as smart as you,” he suggested, adding, “Thank God.”
“Or maybe I’m not the target,” she said. “I mean, maybe the point isn’t to kill me, specifically. Instead, maybe they just want to scare people by planting a bomb that went off, so they didn’t really care if I lived or died—I’ve been thinking about that, too. I mean, seriously, who besides Queen Wila would want me dead?”
It was meant to be a joke, but as Thomas glanced at her, he saw a flurry of emotions cross her expressive face.
“No,” she said, even though he’d said nothing. “Ted’s mother would never... That’s not even remotely possible. Ted is... No. I’m just some convenient pawn. Maybe the they-who-planted-that-bomb-in-the-SUV would’ve gone after anyone who was heading up to the Ustanzian compound.”
This time she seemed to want a response, so he gave her back a “Maybe.”
She was getting out of breath—from their conversation, or the hiking, or more likely a combination of the two.
These mountains weren’t very mountainous. On a scale from one to ten, with one being Florida and ten being the Rockies, they were maybe a five and a half.
Maybe.
Time and ice-age glaciers had worn them down, turning them into more of what Thomas thought of as foothills. Which was a good thing.
Because he and Tash still had hours of climbing up before heading downhill, before heading back up again, toward the peak where the Ustanzian ski lodge was nestled. Thomas hadn’t been sure at first, but now he knew. There was no way in hell they were getting there before the sun went down. Which meant he needed to create a shelter—a hide—for them to use. They’d have to huddle together—God help him—to stay warm through the night.
Although if they stopped early enough, he would be able to light a small fire—dig a fire hole. The smell would be masked by the hazy smoke that still hung in the heavily overcast sky. Something big, somewhere relatively nearby, was on fire, and the recent explosion of the SUV added to the persistent burning smell.
Tasha had been nervous about that at first, and about a potential fire spreading from the still-smoldering SUV. Like Thomas, she’d grown up in California, where a fire in the mountains was a serious threat. But he’d reminded her that this part of the country was called New England for a very cold, damp, rainy reason. She’d experienced it, first hand, all those years living in Boston. Wildfires could happen anywhere, sure, but not here and especially not at this time of year.
“Do you think...” Tasha cleared her throat now, and started over. “I’ve been wondering what that explosion was that we heard earlier. And if...” She couldn’t bring herself to say it.
She was worried about her prince and his family. “The Ustanzian compound’s the most secure location in the area,” Thomas told her.
She nodded, still watching him expectantly, clearly wanting a more definitely-stated reassurance... that he couldn’t give her. Still, he tried his best. “I haven’t been there, obviously, but from the layout and plans that I studied...”
His words weren’t making her happy, so he tried, “The queen’s security team is certainly elite.”
“Oh my God,” Tash said. “Thomas. Really? I’m sure they’re okay is too hard for you to say?”
But he wasn’t sure. “I’ve never lied to you, and I’m not going to start now.”
She nodded tightly at that. “Great. How’s your head? And remember, you’ve never lied to me, so don’t start now.”
Thomas couldn’t help but laugh at that. “My head has been better,” he admitted. “But the headache will pass.”
“I couldn’t believe it was happening again,” she whispered, clearly thinking about all those years ago, when they’d been playing on the rocky shore of that lake, when her mother’s ex had appeared, sucker-punched him, then grabbed her.
“I couldn’t either,” he admitted. Not again... “Tash, I’m so sorry.”
She stopped him, cold. “God, no,” she countered. “It’s not your fault. If we’d turned around, back when you first wanted to—”
“Nah.” Thomas wasn’t going to let her take the blame for this. “Neither of us expected this. You were right when you said this is not Afghanistan. This isn’t your fault either.”
“Well,” she said, “I’m pretty certain that if I’d stayed in San Diego, the way Mia wanted me to, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
He couldn’t argue with that.
Tasha made a sound that might’ve been laughter if they been sitting out on Alan and Mia’s back deck instead of hiking through the New England pines in the waning daylight. “At least this time I’m old enough to know that you’re ridiculously hard to kill. But... why did they take your clothes?”
“Maybe they didn’t want to kill me outright...?” Thomas shook his head. As a SEAL, he didn’t spend a lot of time worrying about why. His focus was on how to successfully complete his mission—keeping Tasha safe—with his current pile of challenges. “I’m just grateful you had something in your bag that fit me, or this walk would be even more chilly.” He made a sweeping gesture down his body. Her over-sized pink sweatshirt was tight across his chest but it was the shockingly loud red plaid PJ pants that really brought the crazy to the table. They ended well above his ankles, which was a strong look with the fuzzy slipper socks that were now sodden from the rain-drenched pine needles. “It’s pure luck that I look so fine, too.”
Tasha couldn’t hide her smile. “The pants are awesome.”
“The pants,” Thomas agreed, “are awesome. I’m loving the pants pretty damn madly.” He started back up the mountain, glancing over his shoulder to make sure she was still following. “In fact, even after Uncle Navy picks us up tomorrow morning and I get myself some real pants...? I’m keeping ’em. You’re not getting ’em back. They are now mine, forever.”
She laughed at that. Exactly as he knew she would.
And her laughter was exactly what they both needed to push their pace just a little bit harder.
Coronado was on lockdown.
Rio had never seen the kind of security that was buzzing around every entrance to the base.
Well, he’d seen it. He’d just never seen it here, in CONUS—the continental United States—before.
Generators were running, so there was power. But just a few blocks away from the base, the traffic lights were out.
There wasn’t a special lane for military personnel—anyone going onto the base was going through the full check, which included both explosive-sniffing dogs and a mirrored device that allowed the guards to confirm there wasn’t a bomb in Gertie’s elderly undercarriage.