Page 51 of Breaking Danger (Ghost Ops #3)

Haven

Five years later

Mac, who was President Pro Tem of the Republic of California didn’t even try to make this a solemn occasion. He was dirty and sweaty from helping plant fifty maple saplings in a circle around the school and the ribbon was cut with garden shears, still dirty from pruning shrubbery.

Jon emitted a piercing whistle and Sophie rolled her eyes and plugged her ears. Her husband was a world-class whistler and used his ability often. One of the many many things about him she’d learned in the past five years.

The essentials, though—they hadn’t changed. He was exactly as she thought he was—loyal and brave and incredibly hard-working. As were the other Ghost Ops members. Their unwavering fortitude allowed Haven, and later the entire state of California—now the Republic of California—to survive.

Nobody had worked harder to get the mass inoculations completed than the men of Haven.

Sophie, Catherine and Elle had worked around the clock to prepare vaccine patches as fast as the four labs that eventually came on line could produce them.

But it was the men of Haven who had to move out in armored convoys to get them to the survivors throughout the entire state.

It meant sending drones to identify each and every survivor and reaching the survivors with the vaccine and food and water, wherever they were.

The first foci of infection, California, became the first state to declare itself virus-free five months after the initial outbreak.

By that time, however, the rest of the United States was still battling the infection, still trying to get the virus under control and so California broke itself off and became a sovereign state.

It had a small population—2,143,402 at the first census.

But a lot of very smart and very hardy people had survived and they were rebuilding almost faster than the eye could see.

Haven had become its capital, and Mac—very much against his wishes—its first President. Pro Tem, he kept saying, though no one listened.

Catherine kept Sophie and Elle in stitches with Mac’s complaints about being the most powerful man in California.

He hated every second not spent shoring up Haven’s defenses, helping oversee establishing a transport system, helping organize rebuilding the physical plant of the Republic of California.

When representatives began pouring into Haven to establish a constitutional government, Mac had to be kicked by Catherine—hard—to go into the room with the ‘politicos’.

While he was planting the trees, the rest of California was conducting its very first political election for the Presidency. Mac against Sarah Kellerman, a former councilwoman in Sacramento.

Mac campaigned hard for Sarah every chance he got. He extolled her virtues, sang her praises, pushed her forward at every photo op. He all but offered to rub her feet for her.

Jon leaned down and whispered in Sophie’s ear. “He’s nervous.”

“Well, you could have taken his place. It’s not like he didn’t ask you. Often,” Sophie said. It had become a running joke. Mac would have handed the reins of power over to anyone over sixteen who wanted it. Nobody accepted because though he hated it, he was doing a really good job.

Jon gave an elaborate shudder and woke up Emma, sleeping on his shoulder.

“Daddy?” Their daughter lifted her curly blonde head from Daddy’s shoulder and knuckled her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Jon got that panicky look whenever their four year old daughter was inconvenienced or uncomfortable in any way. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Nothing’s wrong. Everything is fine.”

Ice blue eyes regarded ice blue eyes. Emma looked so remarkably like her dad.

Jon kissed her forehead and gently pressed her head back into his shoulder. Like all the kids, Emma had stayed up late last night celebrating the new school and was now paying the price. There were a lot of 4 and 5 year-olds sleeping against their daddys’ shoulders.

Sorry, Jon mouthed at her and Sophie repressed a smile.

Big tough badass Jon, who melted around Emma.

At the beginning of their marriage, he’d confessed to her that he had no clue how to be a good husband and father.

But for someone so absolutely clueless, he was doing a very good job.

He loved her and Emma deeply and he showed it every day.

He was as solid a family man as he was a leader of their community.

They would never have made it during those first terrifying and difficult months without Jon flying the helo over perilous terrain, flying mission after mission, ferrying vaccine and medicine and food and water.

“Here’s to the new school!” Lora Harris, who taught math, handed each of them a glass of champagne, the first vintage produced from a Haven winery down in the valley.

She clicked glasses with Jon and Sophie and moved off, cheeks glowing.

Lora had insisted six months into reconstruction on starting school again.

They barely had enough food at that time and were pressed for every single resource available but she insisted and she was right.

That first year there were 147 students of all grades, taught by volunteers, meeting in the mess hall when it was free.

They were so eager to learn that each student was more than caught up with their grade level within two months.

Lora then insisted on building a proper school for the kids of Haven and the surrounding communities and she finally wore everyone down. She was going to be the first principal.

Three universities—at Davis, Berkley and Santa Cruz—were going to start lessons in two years, once the campuses were rebuilt.

Sophie took a sip of the champagne. She shouldn’t be drinking alcohol but it was early on and one sip couldn’t hurt. It was excellent—tart, dry, rich.

Stella Cummings—now Stella Ward—elbowed her in the ribs.

“Not more than one glass in your condition, honey,” she whispered.

Sophie had no idea how Stella knew, but she was more perceptive than most. Stella leaned against her husband, who could be leaned against forever.

Lucius had thrown away the walking sticks three years ago and was their acting head of security.

He smiled down at his wife and kissed her gently on the cheek.

Jon clicked glasses with her again. He bent his head down to her so only she could hear his words. “Here’s to us, honey. We made it.”

Sophie smiled up at him. Thanks to Jon and the other Ghost Ops men, they weren’t hunkering in caves, eating squirrel brains and wearing bearskins.

“Yes, we did.” She used her glass to indicate the brand new school.

“It’s a miracle. Our Emma will attend a real school.

And she’ll grow up with schools and hospitals and libraries.

She’ll grow up in civilization, strong and proud. ”

Jon bent even lower, careful not to wake Emma slumped on his shoulder. He used his nose to shift a lock away from her ear, kissed it, and whispered, “It’s all thanks to you.”

For a second Sophie couldn’t grasp his words. Jon knew that her ear was an erogenous zone. Actually, when he was around, pretty much every part of her body was an erogenous zone. Jon kissing her ear gave her goosebumps, quickened her breathing.

She should have gotten used to this after five years of marriage but he could still reduce her to a quivering wreck in no time.

She pulled in a breath, shifted, and kissed him. She could taste surprise and champagne. But Jon was good with surprises, he rolled immediately with them. He deepened the kiss and she felt that familiar warmth, shot through with bolts of desire, course through her.

Someone whistled and, startled, Sophie pulled back, spilling a little champagne down Jon’s back.

“Sorry,” she whispered and he laughed.

“They weren’t whistling at us, love. Look—someone’s got news.”

One of the Haven counselors, Kristin Moore, was running toward them. She was over 65 but she regularly ran marathons and she reached them in a minute.

She stopped right in front of Mac and gave him an ironic salute. “Sir, I bring tidings of the election!”

Mac froze and if Sophie didn’t know better, she’d have said he looked…frightened. But that wasn’t possible. Mac didn’t do fear.

Nick rolled his eyes. “Cut the crap, Kristin. Come on. Put Mac here out of his misery.”

Kristin stuck her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “What’s it worth to you, Mac? Because we’ve been petitioning the local government here for a bike path for a long time.”

Mac’s eyes showed the whites all around like a runaway pony’s.

“Kristin,” Nick growled.

Sophie glanced up at Jon, amused, and found he was looking at her, eyes suddenly intense. He kissed Emma’s head, his eyes never leaving hers.

She suddenly realized how moved Jon was—at the inauguration of the school, at the first free election of a new President, at how far they’d come, together.

Something in Jon had changed since that horrible moment when he’d been infected.

Something in that warrior carapace had cracked open.

He loved Sophie and when Emma arrived, he was overjoyed.

He often told her he had no idea he was capable of love that deep.

There was an ease about him now that everyone said hadn’t been there before. He made friends easily, laughed often.

He was happy.

So was she. Particularly now.

“Okay everyone, listen up!” From somewhere Kristen produced a bell and rang it.

Eventually everyone quieted down. “I have official news,” she said and pulled a piece of paper from her jacket.

With great ceremony, and very slowly, she extracted a pair of reading glasses, adjusted them carefully on her nose and held the piece of paper up, seemingly translating it in her head from Assyrian.

“So. The results of the election held this day and yesterday in the great Republic of California?—”

“Kristen!” Mac barked and Catherine lay a hand on his arm. It was still amazing to Sophie how such a small woman could control such a large man. But she did. He clamped his mouth shut.

Kristen cricked her neck one way and then the other and widened her stance.

Suddenly, a small ball of dust rose up. Nick and Elle’s twin boys, fighting as usual.

Nick broke them up, picking them both up by the seat of their pants and holding them apart.

They were both scruffy and dirty and still trying to beat each other up though they were a foot apart. Elle sighed and bent to them.

Mac made a noise in the back of his throat. His face was perilously red. Kristen obviously realized that causing a gasket to blow in the head of the current President (Pro Tem) of the Republic of California was not a good idea.

So she said, simply, “Votes cast for Thomas McEnroe—263,404. Votes cast for Sarah Kellerman—323,516. Ladies and gentlemen, Sarah Kellerman is the new President of the Republic of California. She just called with her acceptance and will be travelling tomorrow to Haven to take up her duties. Sorry you lost, Mac.”

Mac whooped with joy, picked Catherine up and whirled her around. When he put her down, he saw their daughter, Delia, was weeping.

Mac picked her up, frowning. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

Delia cried as if her heart had broken. “You lost, Daddy! You lost. I’m so sowwy .”

Mac looked around with a big grin, then schooled his face to seriousness. “No, darling, you didn’t hear Kristen properly. Daddy won . Now Daddy doesn’t have to waste his time with political assholes like?—”

“Mac!” Catherine’s voice was like a whip. Mac bit his lips, looking around for help. Someone shuffled and someone coughed.

Mac took in a deep breath and addressed his daughter. “So, since Daddy just won, how about we go celebrate with some ice cream. How does that sound?” He addressed the crowd. “Ice cream for everyone! Treat’s on me!”

He turned and led the crowd over to the community center.

Jon looked down at her. “Think Emma might like some of that ice cream? Should I wake her up?”

Sophie looked up at him, at Mac’s departing broad back, radiating happiness, at the community of people they’d gathered around them, grateful for every bit of it. Grateful for something else, too.

She put a hand on his arm, feeling that familiar warmth. She’d healed Jon but he’d healed her, too. He’d opened up her heart and filled it to the brim.

“Before we go in, there’s something I have to tell you. Maybe it’s appropriate on the day the citizens of California voted.” She placed his big hand over her belly.

“We’re making a new citizen. I think it might be a boy.”

Everyone trooping to the community center stopped and turned when they heard Jon’s whoop of joy.