Blaze of Glory (13 page)

Grace
Marie
accepted
the
normalcy
with
a
regret
that
unsettled
her.
“Are
you
all
right?
Did
everything
go okay
up
there?”

“Yes.”

“To
which
question?”

“Does
it
matter?
I’m
here.”

Yes,
he
was
there
with
eyes
on
fire
and
an
edginess
that
had
her
longing
for
peppermint
kisses
and
breathing in
some
of
his
endless
supply
of
energy.
He
seemed
to
have
enough
spare
sparkle
to
send
them
both crackling.

And
then—

He
stepped
back,
tapping
her
nose.
“Thanks
for
worrying
about
me,
Gracie.” As
he
strode
away,
she
couldn’t
even
contradict
him
with
a
reminder
she
was
only
doing
her
job.
Because, damn
him,
he
was
right.

She
would
have
been
out
here
waiting
for
him
regardless.

JIANG
RACEDthrough
the
retreat
compound
gardens
in
the
early
sundown.
She
had
limited
time
to
reach her
contact
before
Rurik
would
be
looking
for
her.

She
hated
to
go
behind
his
back,
but
she
suspected
he
might
be
getting
in
above
his
head.
No
doubt
he
was keeping
secrets
from
her.
She
could
sense
it
as
she
sensed
many
things.
If
only
he
would
trust
her
instincts, they
could
have
so
much.
Everything.

She
understood
so
much
more
about
the
infrastructure
of
her
country.
And
on
a
more
intrinsic
level
she understood
a
deeper
rightness.
But
he
had
his
plans.
They
all
did.
Everyone
in
this
place
worked
for
some agency
or
group—good,
bad,
silly,
selfish,
altruistic.
No
one
came
here
without
an
agenda.
She
only
wished she
and
Rurik
could
be
completely
honest
with
each
other.

Silken
clothes
whispering
over
her
skin
that
already
longed
for
his
touch,
she
rounded
the
maze
path
until she
located
the
bench
where
her
contact
would
have
left
the
contact
pouch
beneath
a
bench.
She
sat
as
if
to meditate,
her
hands
clutching
the
edges…feeling…searching…until
yes,
there
it
was.

Covertly,
she
placed
her
disk
of
information
in
place
and
finished
her
meditation
in
case
anyone
watched,
all the
while
grieving
over
the
lost
time
with
Rurik.
They
had
such
little
time
alone
together
she
treasured
each moment
they
could
steal.
Not
just
for
the
sex,
but
to
share
their
dreams
for
her
country.

Rising,
she
made
her
way
back
inside
toward
the
sleeping
quarters.
Finally,
she
had
a
chance
to
set
things right
for
her
slaughtered
family
killed
simply
because
of
their
differing
political
beliefs.

Bitterness
seeped
through
her
veins
like
meditation
smoke.
Tenyearolds
and
babies
did
not
have
political beliefs.

Zipping
past
cookiecutter
generic
doors,
she
finally
made
it
to
her
room.
Ducking
inside,
she
searched—

empty.
She
squelched
her
disappointment
and
used
the
time
to
set
the
scene
instead,
lighting
a
candle, shedding
her
clothes
and
crawling
under
the
covers
to
wait
for
him.
Her
soul,
dry
and
thirsty
for
love, soaked
up
all
Rurik
so
generously
offered.

Her
photo
mural
on
the
back
of
her
door
stared
back
at
her—a
picture
of
her
grinning
with
her
arms wrapped
around
his
waist
on
his
moped,
the
two
of
them
at
target
practice.
An
image
of
the
seedling
they’d planted
in
the
gardens
here
to
commemorate
their
love.

Her
head
sagged
back
into
her
pillow.

She
hated
the
forces
that
made
her
lie
to
him,
but
in
the
name
of
all
that
was
right,
she
had
no
choice.

THREE
HOURS
LATER,
Bobby
didn’t
consider
himself
a
coward,
so
he
decided
running
from
Gracie right
now
was
simply
prudent.
Yeah,
that
sounded
better
as
he
strode
through
the
camp
that
evening,
waiting like
the
rest
of
the
gang
for
Gracie’s
brief
inside
Rodeo’s
overlarge
cargo
plane.
They
would
learn
more about
their
part
in
her
psyops
side
of
the
mission.

Seeing
her
there
on
the
runway
after
he
landed
felt
right.
Too
right,
when
he
couldn’t
decide
whether
to forge
ahead
with
her
as
friends
or
cut
ties
for
good.

On
the
one
hand,
he
saw
Rodeo
over
with
his
crew
doing
a
postflight
walkaround.
The
guy
was
perfect
for Gracie,
levelheaded
and
a
genuinely
nice
guy
that
Bobby
wanted
to
slug
for
even
standing
beside
Gracie.

Not
a
mature
reaction,
but
there
all
the
same.

On
the
other
hand,
he
saw
Vegas
fishing
out
his
cell
phone
as
he
did
after
every
flight
to
call
his
wife,
talk
to his
kids
and
try
to
keep
the
peace
on
the
home
front.

Quite
frankly,
this
way
of
life
sucked
monkey
for
building
a
family.
He
would
never
be
home,
miss
out
on eight
kajillion
milestones,
not
to
mention
the
hellish
pressure
on
the
wife
to
be
all
but
a
single
parent.

Wait
now.
He’d
gone
from
worrying
about
the
F
word—friendship—to
being
spooked
over
thinking
theM

word—marriage.

He
definitely
needed
to
lighten
up,
another
reason
to
keep
his
distance,
because
Gracie
so
wasn’t
the

“lighten
up”
type.
Anybody
with
half
a
brain
could
see
Grace
Marie
Lanier
did
not
do
flings.

Which
made
his
original
idea
to
date
her
one
of
his
more
insane
moves.

Ah,
but
there
she
was
stepping
outside
of
the
van
with
her
curves
filling
out
those
BDUs
in
a
way
that
made him
long
to
peel
every
stitch
of
her
clothes
off
and
find
out
what
sort
of
lingerie
she
preferred
underneath.

Not
that
it
would
matter,
because
if
he
got
her
that
close
to
naked,
he
would
be
tearing
her
undies
off
with his
teeth
in
ten
seconds
flat.

So
what
to
do?

Then
it
hit
him
asshe
returned
to
the
van.
She
was
an
adult.
She
could
always
say
no.
Where
did
he
get
off thinking
the
choice
was
all
his?
That
shrieked
of
an
overblown
ego.
He
might
be
“nucking
futz,”
as
his
buds often
said,
but
he
had
a
fairly
good
sense
of
himself
and
his
limitations.

Why
not
go
ahead
and
just
talk
to
the
woman?

He
dodged
and
wove
through
the
camp
full
of
aviators
and
army
dudes.
Bobby
ducked
inside
the
van
and pulled
up
short
behind
Gracie.
“Looking
for
more
music
to
play
on
the
real
flight
two
days
from
now
when we
get
your
dad
and
the
agent?”

She
startled,
glanced
over
her
shoulder
and
grinned.
“Any
suggestion,
since
you
seem
to
have
such
a
hotline to
the
favs
of
those
on
the
ground?”

“I’m
a
fan
of
Sugar
Ray’s
old
tune
‘Fly.’
Light,
fun,
just
what
we’re
looking
for
in
winning
over
these
folks to
our
side
of
the
fence.”

“Good
point.”

“So?
Are
you
music
hunting?”
he
asked.

“Actually,
I’m
movie
hunting.”
She
flipped
through
a
book
full
of
compact
discs.
“I
thought
everyone
could use
some
downtime
before
the
big
show,
as
it
were.
I
can
rig
a
screen
with
a
white
sheet.”

“The
shrink’s
two
cents
on
making
us
more
effective
by
some
enforced
relaxation
time?”

“Perhaps.”
She
smiled
over
her
shoulder.

“What
kind
of
movies
are
you
looking
through?”
he
asked,
living
in
fear
of
some
“get
in
touch
with
your sensitive
side”
flick.

“Mostly
John
Wayne
oldies.”

“Really?”

“You
don’t
have
to
look
so
shocked.
It’s
my
job
to
understand
the
people
I’m
slated
to
work
with
every
bit as
much
as
I
need
to
understand
the
enemy.”
She
cocked
her
head
to
the
side.
“Am
I
right
that
you
would enjoy
a
John
Wayne
marathon?”

“Almost
as
much
as
sex.”
He
pressed
for
a
reaction.

She
spluttered,
an
encouraging
reaction.
“Okay
then,
let’s
hear
it
for
the
Duke.”

“So
we’re
going
to
watch
movies.”
He
angled
his
head
sideways
to
read
over
the
DVD
titles
she
was carrying,
and
yeah,
sneaking
into
her
personal
space
for
a
body
brush
across
her
breasts.
“Do
you
have
a seat
beside
you
saved
for
me?”

“Sure.”
She
answered
without
hesitation—how
about
that?
“We’ll
also
roast
hot
dogs
and
marshmallows.”

“How
did
you
find
all
that
over
here?”

“There’s
nothing
you
can’t
buy
in
the
wideopenair
market
in
downtown
Cantou.”
She
stared
then
finally said,
“You’re
a
classicmovie
buff,
then.”

Face
facts,
bud,
if
he
wanted
to
get
up
close
and
personal
with
the
woman,
he
had
to
play
by
the
chick
rules and
offer
up
a
piece
of
himself.
“Old
war
movies
played
a
big
role
in
my
childhood.”
He
fidgeted
from
foot to
foot,
more
restless
than
usual
and
wondering
why
he’d
let
himself
get
sucked
into
this
subject
when
there were
other
ones
that
would
have
sufficed.
“My
mother
wasn’t
the
superattentive
type
and
I
didn’t
live
in
a playground
kind
of
neighborhood.
If
I
went
outside
I
would
likely
get
shot,
beat
up,
raped
or
roped
into selling
drugs.
John
Wayne
flicks
seemed
like
a
safer
alternative.” She
stayed
silent
for
a
minute—thank
you,
God—and
she
didn’t
even
try
to
pat
his
back
in
some
solicitous pityparty
fashion.
Then
she
asked,
“Which
was
your
favorite
movie?” Not
what
he’d
expected
her
to
say,
but
exactly
what
he’d
needed
to
hear
after
being
stupid
enough
to
bare
a piece
of
his
fuckedup
past.
“You’ll
laugh.”

“I
promise.
I
won’t
laugh.”

“It’s
a
tie
betweenShe
Wore
a
Yellow
Ribbon
andThe
Quiet
Man.
” Her
whole
body
softened.
He
knew
that
was
a
nebulous
kind
of
description
and
probably
borderline sensitive
enough
to
gethim
beat
up
in
a
bar
fight,
but
he
could
swear
she
went
mushysweet.

Her
soft
smile
shone.
“You’re
a
closet
romantic.”

“Shh!”
He
played
along,
even
as
he
ached
to
keep
her
like
this.
Approachable.
“Don’t
out
me
or
I’ll
have
to do
something
really
macho
like
fling
you
over
my
shoulder
and
take
you
behind
that
tree
and
kiss
you
like you’re
Maureen
O’Hara
drooling
over
the
Duke.”

“No
outing.
I
think
it’s
sweet.”

“Shit.”
Can’t
have
her
thinking
he’s
got
too
much
estrogen
pumping
through
him.
“It
wasn’t
just
the
John Wayne
military
flicks,
either.
I
watched
all
the
Jimmy
Stewarts
and
Audie
Murphys.
You
get
the
idea.
There was
so
much
order
in
their
world
and
the
power
to
make
things
right.
I
wanted
that
and
was
determined
to get
it.”

“You
had
a
mission
young.
That’s
amazing
and
admirable,”
she
acknowledged.

“Why,
thank
you
kindly,
ma’am,”
he
said
with
his
best
John
Wayne
imitation,
then
shifted
back
to
Bobby.

“I
figured
I
would
enlist
right
out
of
high
school.
There
certainly
wasn’t
any
money
in
my
family
for
college, even
when
I
went
to
live
with
my
grandma.
She
did
have
a
playground,
though,
and
man
I
loved
to
fly
on the
swings.”

Things
went
quiet
between
them.
The
camp
buzzed
with
activity—MREs
scenting
the
air
along
with
the sounds
of
showers
and
allaround
breeze
shooting.
Gracie
just
waited
for
him
to
continue.
He’d
never
met
a woman
who
could
let
five
seconds
go
by
without
having
to
fill
it
withsomething.
He
appreciated
the
chance to
sift
through
his
ten
kajillion
thoughts
and
pick
the
one
he
wanted
to
focus
on
and
tell
her.

“Anyhow,
I
expected
to
enlist
and
work
through
the
G.I.
Bill.
My
highschool
grades
were
decent,
but
they weren’t
through
the
roof.
This
ADHD
brain
of
mine
wasn’t
quite
so
in
control
during
those
days.”

“You’re
in
control
now?”
She
clutched
the
DVDs
to
her
luscious
chest.

So
much
for
his
silence
theory.
“Do
you
want
to
hear
this
story
or
not?”

“Do.”

He
tapped
her
mouth
and
the
softness
made
up
for—what
was
it
that
torqued
him
off?
He
couldn’t remember
anymore,
not
with
her
lush
lips
under
his
touch.

“Then
shush,
Dr.
Gracie.”
He
lingered
on
her
lips
a
second,
two,
three
longer,
then
continued.
“In
one
of those
flukes
of
fate
that
makes
you
realize
there
really
is
a
God,
my
highschool
counselor
heard
about
this scholarship.
It
was
kinda
bizarre,
offered
by
an
Air
Force
Officer
who’d
grown
up
in
the
inner
city—L.A.,
I think.
Anyhow,
he
was
some
supergenius
whose
grades
and
ACT
score
got
him
into
an
Ivy
League
school.

He
then
decided
to
donate
funds
and
set
up
a
foundation
for
underprivileged
dudes
like
himself
who
wanted to
attend
college.”

She
went
back
into
Gracie
quiet
mode,
waiting,
eyes
never
wavering
from
him.
He
liked
that
about
her,
too.

Never
once
did
she
look
away
from
him
while
they
spoke.
So
many
folks
were
always
too
busy
checking
to see
if
someone
more
important
might
be
walking
onto
the
scene.
He’d
never
been
much
for
the
ambitious asskissers.

“I
didn’t
think
I
had
a
chance.
My
grades
really
weren’t
the
best
in
the
application,
even
though
I
made
it
to the
finalten
cut.
This
dude,
every
year,
meets
with
the
final
ten
himself
and
talks
to
them.
He
was
a
captain then,
with
odd
questions
you
wouldn’t
expect,
and
from
that,
an
amazing
man
named
Lieutenant
Colonel Lucas
Quade
gave
somebody
like
me
the
chance
to
go
to
college.
No
way
in
hell
could
I
let
him
down.” He
finished
his
ramble,
surprised
it
hadn’t
killed
him
to
share
that
after
all.
Now
that
he
thought
about
it, Lieutenant
Colonel
Quade
deserved
to
have
his
story
shared.
He’d
never
thought
about
it
that
way
before, but
there
weren’t
enough
standup
men
in
the
world,
so
it
seemed
like
a
civic
duty
to
sing
the
praises
of
at least
this
one.

And
he—Bobby—pinched
pennies
hoping
to
save
enough
to
set
up
something
similar
for
some
other
scared and
crazy
teen
only
a
hint
away
from
jail,
but
yearning
for
the
sky.

“Oh,
Bobby.”
She
cupped
his
face
in
her
hands
and
stretched
up
on
her
toes
to
kiss
him.
On
the
lips,
closed, but
sentimental
and
hot,
and
he
could
even
tell
she’d
already
snitched
a
marshmallow.
The
taste
would
turn him
on
forever,
reminding
him
of
sweet
Gracie
totally
concentrating
on
him.

He
wanted
more,
yet
knew
better
than
to
press.
Because
now,
he
was
damn
certain
that
at
least
once
in
his life,
he
would
make
love
with
his
friend
Grace
Marie
Lanier.

CHAPTER
TEN

THE
NEXT
EVENING,Gracie
parked
the
van
in
the
tiny
village
of
Lipah
near
their
camp.
Yesterday’s movie
night
had
gone
so
well
at
her
own
camp,
they
were
taking
the
same
concept
over
to
the
nearby village.
General
Renshaw
deemed
it
a
goodwill
gesture
and
superior
excuse
to
check
out
the
lay
of
the
land.

When
she’d
packed
back
in
the
States,
she’d
included
movies
with
subtitles
on
the
off
chance
they
would have
time
for
just
such
an
opportunity.

Movies
were
a
universal
language,
a
modern
art
form
that
spoke
to
the
masses
in
the
way
that
sculpture
did in
the
Renaissance,
and
van
Gogh’s
paintings
did
at
the
turn
of
the
century.
A
lot
of
power
rested
in
the hands
of
Spielberg
and
Scorcese,
but
in
a
crazy
world
with
so
many
disparate
views,
Grace
understood
the value
of
using
any
tool
at
her
disposal
to
create
a
connection.
A
sense
of
common
ground—that
wasn’t blowing
up
under
their
feet.

She
wished
she
could
find
that
common
ground
with
Bobby.
Or
her
father.
Sometimes
she
feared
she
didn’t share
common
ground
with
anyone.

Meanwhile,
she
needed
something
to
keep
herself
occupied
until
the
flight
tomorrow
night
to
pull
out
the gonesilent
agent.
She’d
managed
to
wrangle
herself
onto
the
flight
roster.
It
had
been
humiliating
to
explain to
the
General
about
her
father,
but
once
she
had,
he
agreed
it
would
be
best
if
she
went
along
tomorrow
to ID
the
renowned
nuclear
scientist
potentially
valuable
to
the
U.S.