Drone Threat Read Online Free Page B

with beer bottles, its electronic lid jammed open.
    â€œSorry about the mess. I thought you weren’t coming back until tonight.”
    â€œCaught an early flight. Thought we could spend the day together instead of me hanging around in a stuffy old hotel. How are you feeling, by the way?”
    â€œBetter than when you left.” He stepped closer to her.
    She pushed the pan of eggs off the burner and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I was so worried.”
    He pulled her in closer but his mind was somewhere else. “I know.”
    She leaned back. Cupped his face in her hands. “You need to shave.” She sniffed, grinning. “Maybe a shower, too. Breakfast will be ready in ten.”
    â€œTea?”
    â€œGreen as grass and steeping in the pot.” She gently touched the nasty bruise on the side of his head. “You sure you’re all right?”
    â€œShower and some caffeine and I’ll be right as rain.”
    â€œDid you get to the doctor?”
    Pearce shrugged his wide shoulders. “I’m fine.”
    Myers caught herself admiring his bare, broad chest and powerful arms. He’d spent more than half of his life throwing punches—or worse. A myriad of minor scars bore witness on his skin to his years in combat.
    â€œCall him today, please.”
    His face darkened. He let her go. “Will do, Madam President.”
    Meyers turned around and picked up an already cooked plate ofbacon, his favorite. “The bacon is a strictly volunteer mission, should you decide to accept it.”
    He stared at the bacon and then her fake-scowly face.
She deserves better
, he thought. A slight smile stole across his face. She knew how to make him laugh at himself. He picked up a piece of bacon in his fingers and crammed the whole thing into his mouth, caveman style.
    â€œVerdict?”
    â€œPerfecto,” he said, still chewing.
    He snatched another piece and plopped it into mouth. “Back in a flash.” He dashed back upstairs, his mood lightened.
    She watched him jog up the stair treads, then pulled the eggs back onto the burner to finish them up, still worried.
    â€”
    A QUICK G LANCE in the bathroom mirror told the story. He examined his stubbled face closely. His exhausted blue eyes were shadowed by dark circles. The place above his ear where the pistol had struck him was swollen and still hurt like hell. His head hadn’t stopped pounding since the Turk hit him, but two days of heavy drinking didn’t help, either. Maybe she was right. Maybe it was time to see a doctor.
    He didn’t have any of his things at her place, but she had been thoughtful enough to buy a couple of disposables and some shave gel and leave them in the all-glass shower enclosure. She was old-fashioned in a funny way. They were in love, for sure, but he hadn’t asked her to marry him and she wasn’t going to shack up. “Not my style,” she’d said with a smile. Not his, either, actually. They were serious but taking it slowly. They’d been friends for a few years now but only recently had become lovers.
    Pearce’s blood pressure suddenly dropped.
    When, exactly, was their anniversary? Sometime soon, he knew. Not the kind of thing he should be forgetting, but it had been more than a decade since he had to worry about such things, and if he missed it, well, Margaret wasn’t the kind of woman to lord it over him. But then again, she was a woman, and something told him it might be a good idea to figure that out before she called him on it.
    The plan had been to land back in D.C. after the mission and lay over for a day in order to give her a status report and reconnect, then fly on to California to check up on Tariq and his family while Margaret attended to business in Denver.
    But Tariq was dead. No reason to head out.
    He decided to stay in town at his hotel, but Myers saw his heavy fatigue and insisted he crash at her place for a few days and