Read Online Night Is Mine by M. L. Buchman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: M. L. Buchman
Ads: Link
looked good, as he always did. A little thinner, a little grayer—running the FBI could do that—but his back was straight and the daily hour at the gym still showed in how he filled out a suit jacket. The same blue eyes that stared out from her mirror every morning. She’d received her slender build and her height from her mother. From her father, the brilliant blue eyes that dragged men in and the raw determination that scared them all away.
Except Major Mark Henderson. But eight hours in transit had shed no more sense on the situation than when it had occurred. “It.” Nice way to think of a kiss that had set a new standard several flight levels above any operational ceiling she’d ever imagined, never mind experienced.
The impossible gentleness from a man so strong, the immense power she’d felt held so barely in check, had made a contrast that had set her pulse sizzling. And what she was supposed to do with that lay hidden somewhere beyond her horizon.
So, like any good pilot, she compartmentalized and shoved it aside. “Don’t waste mental energy on what you can’t solve, or what you were supposed to be paying attention to could jump up and kill you.” So, she shoved it aside… for about the hundredth time in the last hour.
She crossed the tarmac, cool as night despite the midmorning sun. Her father’s hug was as firm as it was brief.
“I’m supposed to deliver you immediately. Tried to get you a day off at home…” He shrugged, indicating that had not been a battle worth fighting.
Her father waited for her to climb into the car, and the two agents closed their doors.
Emily had hoped for an iced tea while lounging alongside the unmitigated luxury of clean water on a pool-sized scale, even if it was far too cold to swim. Not to be. She dug around in the SUV’s cooler. Ice-cold bottled water. Heaven enough for her.
“I’ll bet Mom will be disappointed. Who was she going to invite?”
Her father grimaced. Some lineup of overly eligible men in overly sharp business suits, no doubt.
“Well, I’m probably just going through orientation today. Tell her I’ll try and be there tonight.” Emily regretted it the moment she said it, but familial peace had a price you sometimes had to pay.
The SUV rolled out through the layers of security with little interference. Far too little, when compared to their hardened camp in the desert. Home soil. The U.S. didn’t feel like a combat zone, despite the lessons of 9/11. The contrast creeped her out every time she took stateside leave. She knew she’d shake it off in a few days. But right now, coming from the confined world of a forward camp where you were always armed, surrounded by a “friendly” town you never entered in less than squad size, it made her twitchy. Slapping to check for her sidearm, and not finding it, didn’t help. The Beretta was shoved into the top of her duffel, which an agent had dropped in the trunk.
She had to relax. Even a little would be a start.
Her father shifted in his seat to turn toward her. His secret-agent face, as she’d always teased him, abruptly, fully in place.
Or perhaps she shouldn’t relax at all.
***
The FBI Director’s briefing lasted barely as long as the twenty-minute ride to the White House. And it added surprisingly little to the briefing Emily had suffered through on the plane, other than the fact that her father hadn’t originated the orders to get her grounded stateside. That saved them a fight and even earned him a few points. First that he hadn’t and second when he adamantly insisted he’d never do such a thing. Third, that she actually believed him.
So, she’d go back to thinking he was an okay dad, in a totally committed to his work, rarely home kind of way. Though she understood that commitment now, it had been hard as a kid. It had made her rebellious, mostly against the only parent available, her mother.
How much of her flying had been her idea, and how much because her mother
Except Major Mark Henderson. But eight hours in transit had shed no more sense on the situation than when it had occurred. “It.” Nice way to think of a kiss that had set a new standard several flight levels above any operational ceiling she’d ever imagined, never mind experienced.
The impossible gentleness from a man so strong, the immense power she’d felt held so barely in check, had made a contrast that had set her pulse sizzling. And what she was supposed to do with that lay hidden somewhere beyond her horizon.
So, like any good pilot, she compartmentalized and shoved it aside. “Don’t waste mental energy on what you can’t solve, or what you were supposed to be paying attention to could jump up and kill you.” So, she shoved it aside… for about the hundredth time in the last hour.
She crossed the tarmac, cool as night despite the midmorning sun. Her father’s hug was as firm as it was brief.
“I’m supposed to deliver you immediately. Tried to get you a day off at home…” He shrugged, indicating that had not been a battle worth fighting.
Her father waited for her to climb into the car, and the two agents closed their doors.
Emily had hoped for an iced tea while lounging alongside the unmitigated luxury of clean water on a pool-sized scale, even if it was far too cold to swim. Not to be. She dug around in the SUV’s cooler. Ice-cold bottled water. Heaven enough for her.
“I’ll bet Mom will be disappointed. Who was she going to invite?”
Her father grimaced. Some lineup of overly eligible men in overly sharp business suits, no doubt.
“Well, I’m probably just going through orientation today. Tell her I’ll try and be there tonight.” Emily regretted it the moment she said it, but familial peace had a price you sometimes had to pay.
The SUV rolled out through the layers of security with little interference. Far too little, when compared to their hardened camp in the desert. Home soil. The U.S. didn’t feel like a combat zone, despite the lessons of 9/11. The contrast creeped her out every time she took stateside leave. She knew she’d shake it off in a few days. But right now, coming from the confined world of a forward camp where you were always armed, surrounded by a “friendly” town you never entered in less than squad size, it made her twitchy. Slapping to check for her sidearm, and not finding it, didn’t help. The Beretta was shoved into the top of her duffel, which an agent had dropped in the trunk.
She had to relax. Even a little would be a start.
Her father shifted in his seat to turn toward her. His secret-agent face, as she’d always teased him, abruptly, fully in place.
Or perhaps she shouldn’t relax at all.
***
The FBI Director’s briefing lasted barely as long as the twenty-minute ride to the White House. And it added surprisingly little to the briefing Emily had suffered through on the plane, other than the fact that her father hadn’t originated the orders to get her grounded stateside. That saved them a fight and even earned him a few points. First that he hadn’t and second when he adamantly insisted he’d never do such a thing. Third, that she actually believed him.
So, she’d go back to thinking he was an okay dad, in a totally committed to his work, rarely home kind of way. Though she understood that commitment now, it had been hard as a kid. It had made her rebellious, mostly against the only parent available, her mother.
How much of her flying had been her idea, and how much because her mother
Similar Books
