Justine Davis - Operation Midnight

It was at that moment she realized they were dropping in altitude. Another refueling stop? Well, this time asking for the bathroom wasn’t going to be a ruse, it was going to be a necessity. And if he didn’t believe her this time—

The sharp pivot of the helicopter interrupted her thought. They were definitely landing. This time she recognized the feeling. And as the direction they were facing changed, she saw indeed the first light of dawn on the horizon.

They touched down even more lightly than last time, so lightly she wasn’t sure they were actually down until Teague began to flip off switches and the sound of the rotors changed as they began to slow.

And then, as she got her first glimpse of their surroundings in the still-gray light of dawn, she wondered if they were here to refuel at all. Because this certainly was no airfield, not even a small, rural one. And there was no sign of a fuel truck.

What there was, was a big, old, ramshackle barn several yards away across an expanse of dirt dotted with low, scraggly-looking brush. A bit beyond that was what appeared to be an old, falling-down windmill. And coming toward them from the barn was a man, dressed in khaki tan pants and a matching shirt that made him hard to see against the tan of the landscape in the faint light. Hayley thought he might be limping, just slightly, but she couldn’t be sure. What she was sure of was the rifle he held. Not a classic, elegant one with a polished wood stock, but an all-black, aggressive thing that looked as if it was out of some alien-invasion movie.

Quinn pulled off the headset, and this time instead of putting it in the empty front seat, hung it on a hook overhead. Did that mean they were here? Wherever “here” was? Was this their destination?

Quinn pulled himself to his feet, dodging the now-alert-and-on-his-paws Cutter. He looked at Vicente, who was now sitting upright, fully awake.

“We’ll have you inside shortly, sir,” Quinn said.

Sir?

Respect, she noted. While she obviously didn’t even rate an acknowledgment, now that they were … wherever they were.

“I really need that bathroom now,” she said.

Quinn glanced at her. Seemed to study her for a moment. She didn’t know what he saw that was different, but he apparently believed her this time.

“It’ll only be a few minutes.” Then his glance shifted to the dog. “He can get out now, though.”

Hayley didn’t quite know how to take that; was it thoughtfulness for the dog, or did Quinn want control of him, so that he could control her?

If that’s his thinking, he’s in for a surprise, Hayley thought. About the first part, anyway; she didn’t think anybody really controlled Cutter.

Quinn got out of the chopper, and she saw him bend and stretch his legs as if they were cramped. They must be, cramming a body she guessed was at least six feet tall into that small space on the floor couldn’t have been easy. Not that she felt sorry for him.

But he had made room for Cutter, despite the cramped quarters. And the dog seemed no less enamored of him this morning than he had been from the moment he’d encountered this dark stranger.

But to his credit, he did hesitate when Quinn held the door open for him. He looked back over his shoulder, his dark eyes fastened on her in a silent appeal for permission. She selfishly wanted to tell him no, wanted him to stay with her, but she knew the sometimes-hyperactive dog was probably about to jump out of his fur after being trapped in this small space for so long. Not to mention he probably needed his much more convenient sort of a bathroom as much as she needed one.

“Go ahead,” she told him, and with a small, happy woof, he leaped from the helicopter to the ground. He looked up at Quinn expectantly. Quinn seemed puzzled, and made a broad gesture toward the open space they were in, as if to tell the dog it was all his now. It was strange how much smaller Cutter looked standing next to the tall man; to her he seemed like a big dog, next to Quinn, more average.

Cutter briefly checked out the surprised newcomer, but despite the aggressive weapon, and unlike with Quinn, after a moment he seemed to find nothing of particular interest there and quickly moved on at a brisk trot, checking out his new surroundings.

The new man was speaking to Quinn and Teague, in the manner of someone giving a report. Teague was listening carefully, but it was clear the report was directed at Quinn. To Hayley, everything sounded a bit muffled; her ears must be humming a little after the hours of noise, and she could make out only an occasional word; she heard the newcomer say “perimeter” and “secure,” but not much else.

“I am very sorry.”

Her head snapped around as her fellow passenger spoke into the fresh silence. He did have a slight accent, Hispanic, she thought, and he was looking at her with that same expression she had seen earlier, tinged with more than a little regret.

That she had gotten sucked into this? she wondered.

Or that she wasn’t going to get out of it?

At the moment, the latter seemed more likely. And by the time Quinn turned back and gestured her out, she was oddly reluctant; the stealthy black helicopter seemed suddenly safer than whatever she was going to be stepping into out there.

“We’re up and running,” Liam Burnett said briskly as he joined sniper Rafer Crawford in reporting in.

Quinn nodded as he stretched gratefully; he’d expected nothing less. His crew was well trained and could think for themselves. They’d have everything ready to roll.

Then Liam spotted their extra half-passenger roaming about, and Quinn could see his detail-oriented mind kick in. And then he noticed the woman still aboard, and that mind revved up even further. Quinn followed the progression of his thoughts as they went from the logistics of an extra person and an animal, to the realization that person was a woman, to the recognition that she was a rather attractive one. Liam always had had the worst poker face of them all. Came with youth, Quinn supposed.

“So,” Rafer said, with a sideways glance of his own at the woman still in the chopper, “how’d she happen?”

“Unavoidable,” Quinn said with a grimace, and gestured with a thumb toward the dog, who was ranging out toward the barn, investigating the grounds with a thoroughness he had to admire. The animal would probably know who and what had been through here for the past six months before he was through.

“The dog’s fault?” Rafer sounded even more puzzled.

“It’s a long story,” Quinn said as he watched Teague open the far door of the helicopter and help Vicente out. The older man moved stiffly, almost gingerly. Rafer quickly went to help; he had some experience with moving through pain.

“We have any painkillers in stock?” Quinn asked Liam. “Seems the old man’s got arthritis pretty bad.”

“Standard first-aid kit issue, plus Rafer’s stash of ibuprofen.”

“May have to raid that,” Quinn said. “Hope he’s not having a bad week.”

“Seems okay,” Liam said.

Since Liam and Rafer worked together a lot, he should know, Quinn thought. As much as anyone did, anyway; Rafer did a good job of hiding any pain the old injury gave him. If it wasn’t for the slight limp, no one who hadn’t seen the impressive scar would know there was anything wrong. And he refused to let it slow him down; it had been a long, painful process, but he’d pushed so hard and learned to compensate so well he was as efficient as any of them at anything short of long-distance running.

“Sometime today?”

The words came from inside the helicopter. She was sounding a bit snappish, Quinn thought, smothering a wry quirk of his mouth.