Blake’s hand went down hard on the side of the computer desk. “Sonofabitch.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Dean told him.
“Who needs to jump?”
Dean grabbed his arm and pulled him from the room. “We don’t know anything for certain.”
“What the…we know Mac wasn’t behind the wheel. We know a stranger listened in on our conversation we had in a car to avoid being heard in my home. We know whoever this guy was he had the ability to hack into this system and take off with a car, then return the damn thing without question. We know Neil believes someone of intelligence and ability is gunning for him and my sister. I don’t have to jump in the water to know I’m going to get wet, Dean.” And if Neil had managed to keep this ass from knowing where he was, Blake and Dean had blown that by openly talking about their findings in his house over the last couple of days. Which explains the extra dead bird in Karen’s car. The tight tongues made this ass plant another dead bird and throw them off track. Make them think Neil wasn’t sane.
“We’ve been conned and Neil isn’t crazy.” Neil was in danger and Blake had probably led his enemy right to him.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Dinner the night before had been a strained affair. It didn’t help that the wind had kicked up and the threat of rain had Gwen wondering where Neil was. Gwen took the pathetic path of pleading a headache and retired to her room early to avoid conversation with her host.
She couldn’t place what about Charles bothered her most. The quiet plotting that seemed to happen behind his gaze, or the smile that reminded her of a clown at a circus. Neither were redeeming qualities in a person. I’m sure he makes a great drill sergeant.
Gwen moved quietly through the house, purposely leaving her room once the breakfast hour had passed. The house was quiet to the point she wondered if she were alone. In the kitchen, she placed a cup of water into the microwave to heat for tea. With the exception of a few clouds, the sky was clear.
“Be safe, Neil,” she whispered to herself.
When the microwave chimed, Gwen turned to grab her cup.
Charles stood directly behind her, his lip turned up slightly. She screamed and stepped back into the counter, bruising her hip.
“Bloody hell,” she gasped.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.” His coy smile fell and an expression of concern replaced it.
The hell you didn’t. “I didn’t hear you come in.” She rubbed her hip and willed her pulse to calm.
“Wanted to make sure you had everything you needed.” Charles moved a few paces away. The next county would have been better. The man wore the exact same clothes he’d worn since Neil had left. They were pressed and clean, but the exact style of military issue. Charles didn’t leave the house, or even have a visitor. For a man of his rank, Gwen expected a little more of a revolving door.
“Your wife directed me to where things were in the kitchen.”
Charles moved behind the counter and pulled out a tall stool.
Oh, great…company. Gwen found the tea and slowly removed the bag from the paper packaging. It became apparent that Charles wasn’t going to open the conversation.
“Have you heard from Ruth?”
“She arrived in Florida.”
Gwen dipped the tea bag, and waited for a more elaborate answer. “How is your daughter?”
“Happy her mother is with her.” Gwen reminded herself that Neil used to give her such short and precise answers. Their time alone changed that.
“No one quite replaces our mum when we’re ill.”
The corner of Charles’s lip turned up again. “One of the things women are good for.”
Smiling when your back teeth are grinding is impossible. “Are there many women in the service under your command?”
His smile fell. “A few.”
“You don’t approve.” She could see it in his face.
“Women belong in a home fixing tea and not in the wild removing targets.”
Gwen crossed the room, made sure she had a way out without walking by him.
“Allowing women in must have been difficult for you to accept.”
He shrugged. “I’m a soldier. I do what I’m told.”
“As a major, don’t you do most of the telling?” She blew over her tea.
Charles’s hand rested on the counter and the index finger on his right hand started a slow, intermittent tap. “There are always people above you.”
She thought of the picture Neil had shown her of his troop, or whatever it was they called themselves. Friends. “True. And those under you don’t always survive their missions. That must be difficult.” She couldn’t imagine sending troops into battle and learning that some weren’t coming home. The entire concept of war boggled her mind. Didn’t every human want the same things? A happy and healthy family, food, a home? A world in which their children could grow to the best of their abilities and have families of their own? Truly, what more was there to need? Why fight? It made no sense to her.
“There’s always collateral damage.” His finger tapped a little harder. “A leader can’t dwell on death. Not here.”
If Gwen were to guess, she’d say that Charles didn’t dwell. In fact, he probably erased the name of the lost and penciled in the next. Cold.
She’d rather have her Neil, who did think about the men who’d followed him into battle.