Rachel shoved to her feet. “Now would be a great time for the good news part.”
“We have a generator and top-notch computers here. And thanks to the storm that’s keeping us from leaving, it’s also impossible for anyone to find us. So we have time.”
Time to figure out if the cell phone contained world-shaking information—or if that phone was Brandon Harris’s version of a crazy tinfoil hat.
Either way, he was keeping Harris the hell away from Rachel.
***
Rachel was going seriously stir-crazy.
The cabin that had seemed like such a safe haven initially had now become more of an overcrowded jail cell because of the storm. She sat cross-legged and pretty much useless on a bed with a sunburst quilt.
After Brandon’s meltdown, they’d cranked the generator. Liam hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said it kicked ass. Air conditioners pumped cool air through the shack. Three computers had been set up on the dining table. The Internet was spotty, going in and out as they worked to reach Marcus Dupre. But Liam and the two members of his team were poring over the computer chip, with Brandon trying to break the code.
Catriona and Sunny were in the kitchenette and had quickly evicted Rachel, insisting she’d been on the road longer than they had, so she should rest.
Even the dogs had abandoned her. All four canines had piled pack-style on the porch, not a bad place, since they would serve as a first alert to anyone approaching. Their ears would be better tuned to nuances in the symphony of storm and marsh noises. She hugged her knees, resting her chin on them, drifting off…
She startled.
Looking around sharply, she found Cuervo standing in the doorway. The lanky PJ wore a marathon T-shirt and camouflage pants with combat boots. “Just checking on you for the major. Didn’t mean to disturb you.”
Liam sent the guy to check on her? Watch over her? Touching and frustrating at the same time. She didn’t enjoy being pushed aside. She wanted to help. To do something. Anything.
She swung her feet off the edge of the double bed. “I’m not actually tired. Just bored to death after the frenzy of the past couple of weeks.”
“We play word games to pass the time during a long swim or run.”
“Seriously? You have the energy to talk in the middle of that kind of workout?”
A coal black eyebrow shot upward. “Do you think if we’re in the middle of hiking our asses off an Afghan mountain with the Taliban breathing down our neck that we stop for a break every time we need to pass along a message to each other?”
Her stomach churned at the image he painted of Liam’s life beyond civilian rescues and training exercises. Those scenarios were all too sharp edged, given what Brandon had shared tonight.
“Sorry,” Cuervo said. “Sometimes I forget it’s not everyday kinda stuff for the rest of the world. Part of why we play games to take the edge off, I guess.”
She swallowed hard. “Like what kind of word games?”
Crossing his boots at the ankles, he settled more comfortably in the doorway. “We just started playing this new word game called marry one, screw one, kill one. Some people on the team think it’s not PC enough.”
“Hey,” Wade Rocha shouted from the next room. “I heard that.”
Cuervo continued. “But I think it’s kinda like that ‘people in a boat’ game where you have to decide who gets tossed overboard and fed to the sharks.”
Rachel grinned. “You’re a bloodthirsty one.”
“Our options are laugh or what? Become like Bubbles?”
Bubbles… back in the Bahamas… “The one who always cleans his gun and never speaks or smiles?”
“Right. As for me, I prefer laughing. So”—he spoke loud enough to be heard in the living area as well—“in the interest of equality and all, we’ll give you ladies a shot at playing… with guys to pick from.”
Sunny Rocha stepped up alongside Cuervo. “I assume you’re not going to offer your own names.”
Cuervo clutched his heart. “If only I could, without Wade kicking my ass. So, ladies, pick a subject, and I’ll list three men. You too, Catriona. Come on in.” The dog-sitter stepped into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. “For example… I’ll choose three men from the Ocean’s Eleven actors. Or three sports heroes. Or three guys from the cast of Glee.”
“You’re a Gleek?” Catriona gasped. “For real?”