Page 96 of Agency

And, so, they’d banter. They’d get their food cooked. They’d all settle down for the night.

And tomorrow? Tomorrow would be a new day, complete with its own problems.

But we’d face them when we got to them, even if I couldn’t face a simple one, like telling Jericho something encouraging, heartfelt, or honest.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Ambyr

Thunk, chunk!

Freshly showered, but head still groggy and hand full of a mug of bad, freeze-dried coffee, I finally followed the sound of chopping wood out through the kitchen’s backdoor.

There was one window in the kitchen which was free of covering boards. He must have ripped off the planks covering the pane some time this morning, and I’d watched Jericho through the glass for at least five minutes, as if a moment’s reflection would give me some kind of mystical insight on what to do. But, eventually, I’d realized that no amount of reflection would fix this thing between us. Nor would it tell me where Morgan and Andrew had gotten off to.

Jericho, long-sleeved flannel shirt unbuttoned down the front to reveal his bare, sweat-sheened chest, didn’t even look over as I approached the thirty or so feet. His ax simply came down to strike the log he’d set up in one smooth motion and a loudthunk, then lifted and struck down again against the stump, splitting the log in two, with a loudchunk.

“Hey!” I called as, grunting, he leaned forward and placed another wooden log on the chopping stump. Which, don’t get me wrong, was more than just this side ofreal fucking sexy. I’d gotten used to conference guys and business men over the years, the type who populated cities the world over. Finance, sales, lawyers, doctors, and so on… Wasn’t very often that I ran across a good-looking, muscle-bound man actually chopping wood in the morning air, rather than counting his carbs and hitting the gym.

Which made me more than easily remember why I’d paid attention to him at the Bothersome Beaver.

Thunk, chunk!

“Hey! Where is everyone?” Attempting to silently articulate my point, I looked to the emptiness of the carport.

Thunk, chunk!

“Jericho!”

“What?” he finally replied, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Can’t you see I’m busy? We’re not going to be able to get a supply of heating oil out here before we’re gone, and so we’re actually going to need this firewood with the way the weather’s looking.”

“Yes, it’s Nebraska. It gets cold here.” I rolled my eyes as I spoke. “Where is everyone, though? Where are the guys?”

“Sent them into town for supplies. Something you would have known about if you’d actually stayed awake last night to hear it.”

“Oh.” My lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m sorry. I had a tracker removed from my neck yesterday, in case you forgot, then I was stuck in a car for eight hours.”

“And I twisted my ankle and nearly cracked my skull open in a fight with your assassin, then drove half of those eight hours.” He fixed those cool, killer’s eyes on me as he lined up the next log. “What’s your point?”

I almost crossed my arms defensively over my chest and snapped back at him, but stopped when I remembered that one hand held a mug of burning hot coffee. So, instead, I shifted my feet and changed the subject as I made a fist with my free hand, which I planted on my hip.

“What kind of supplies?”

“More diesel, for one. Ginny’s not going to run much longer with the stock on hand. We’re going to be here a couple days, at least. There hasn’t been any serious movement on the tracker, if that’s what you’re worried about. Morgan is keeping a close eye on it, and the only two moving are yours and Joergensen’s.”

“Oh,” I said, immediately feeling the dissipation of a tightness in my chest I hadn’t realized was there.

“Better?”

“No.” When I spoke again, my voice was lower. “Coffee tastes like shit, and people are still trying to kill me.”

“Add a little salt to the coffee. Just a touch. Does wonders.”

I snorted. “Thanks, I’ll try that.” I turned and went to walk back to the kitchen.

“The main office got in touch,” he said to my back, bringing his ax back up, and over, his broad, muscular shoulder.

“You guys are off radio silence?” I glanced back to his squinting, sweaty form, my eyes taking on a life of their own and dancing down his partially naked form.