Page 42 of Ace (The Deuces Wild #4)

Ever his strongest ally, she was the only one who’d encouraged his need to enlist in the Army after they’d married.

She knew the cost, but she loved him. She ran with him, swam with him, even drilled with him on the range preparing his endurance for the physical and marksmanship challenges ahead.

Carol Marie was the one standing at his side the day he graduated basic training, not Elaine.

After that he was headed for Camp Rogers in the Harmony Church area of Fort Benning, GA, for Ranger Assessment.

Carol Marie and he had a bright future. Until he took leave two days later.

Until Elaine finally relented to meet the new Mrs. Boniface. Until Carol Marie died…

“I let both of you down,” he told his dead wife and their unborn son. “I don’t even know where that graduation picture of us is any more.” Remorse crept over him like a sickness. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You have to know how much I love you. I always will. Both of you.”

Bumping the back of his head against the trailer wall behind him, Keller closed his eyes and wished for a bottled water and a way out of the dilemma with Savannah.

That wasn’t love, and he damned well knew it.

It couldn’t be. There was no sense fooling himself or her.

They’d only met yesterday. Okay, so they were sexually compatible, and they seemed to like each other.

So what? Rome wasn’t built in a day and neither was love.

Lust maybe. There’d been plenty of that.

Yet even as he denied the notion, voracious need for Savannah’s tender sweetness warmed Keller’s body.

He could be in bed with her luxuriously soft body draped over him right now.

His nose could be buried in her hair, his hands full of her small, succulent breasts.

Or her ass. He could be listening to her expound on some wise thing Gran Mere had said. He could be… Home.

But no. There was no home for him. Not anymore. He gave that up the day he buried his wife and child. This thing with Savannah had to stop before she ended up dead too.

A tiny wiggle in his pocket roused Keller from his dark thoughts. The hummingbird was alive—and kicking.

“If I let you go, I’ll never see you again,” he told the stiletto-nosed creature poking its way up and out of his pocket. For some reason, it sounded like he was really speaking to Savannah.

Carefully, he cupped his fingers, caging the determined explorer where it wouldn’t get away and get hurt. “Trust me, you’ll get lost in this big, dark container. When the door finally opens, out you’ll go, like a shot.” And I’ll miss you like I’ll miss Savannah.

The little guy squeaked. It buzzed and stretched its wings, using them to balance on the double-folded cuff of his pocket. Junior was stronger now. He was capable. He wanted out.

Yet Keller couldn’t—wouldn’t—let Junior go, even though the little guy’s stiletto beak poked out between his thumb and index finger .

Just being protective, he told himself. Maybe it was time to let this tiny jewel do what it was made to do—fly away.

Live. Maybe it was time he let Savannah go, too.

But the second Junior zipped away, he’d be in unfamiliar territory.

He’d get lost. The little thing didn’t belong in America.

Junior needed to be returned home, where hummingbirds like him sparkled in the breeze as they zipped by.

He wouldn’t last long in America, and Keller couldn’t let anything happen to his new buddy.

Carefully, he tucked Junior into the deepest part of his pocket, then buttoned it so the bird would be quiet and safe.

Somehow that simple action assured him that Savannah was where she belonged too.

She was safe. Away from him, but safe. Keller settled against the humming wall.

Which struck him as ironic. Humming wall. Humming bird. Har dee, har, har.

Man, he was tapped, so tired he was getting rummy. He didn’t want to fall asleep again, yet the contraption RJ had rigged up would soon switch on and douse everything in this container with another batch of sleepy-time mist. Keller couldn’t let that happen.

The risk was real. Stay here on his butt—which his body ached to do—and be unprepared when that rolling door opened.

Or get off his lazy ass, break the door open, breathe in a gut full of fresh air, then locate whatever gizmo activated RJ’s special recipe.

Dismantle or activate it, Keller still wasn’t sure.

On the one hand, the living things in this container with him deserved to breathe.

On the other hand, waking them before he could set them free would conclude in mass death.

They couldn’t breathe if they were awake while still wrapped in stifling paper, could they?

They might panic and hurt themselves trying to get free.

He couldn’t have that. Keller opted to err on the side of caution.

There was no way he could open all these crates to free everything anyway, and there wasn’t sufficient room inside the container if he did.

It would be kinder to keep the birds and animals, if there were any, drugged.

Keller’s head throbbed with a monstrous migraine, but he shook it off. He had work to do and soldiering on was what Rangers did. They didn’t whine and cry like a bunch of pansy-assed snowflakes. Hell, no. They fought back and they won. Every. Time.

Okay then. Keller squared his shoulders, ready for a fight.

Knowing RJ, the activation switch that released the gas wouldn’t be complex.

Probably just a simple toggle switch attached to a receiver, running off a double A battery.

Whatever. Keller knew he could easily jury rig something to activate from ground level.

That way he could keep the birds and other creatures safely anesthetized until help arrived to transport them to safety. But first…

He needed a breath of fresh air.