Forged in Ash (38 page)

She backtracked, put on a coat, and then sat next to Wolf on the bench, cuddling into him as he draped a thick arm around her shoulders. The black eyes that met Cosky’s hostile gaze were snapping with challenge.

Cosky ignored the challenge. It was pretty obvious the pair was close. Picking a fight with Wolf because of a Goddamn hug wasn’t going to win him any points with Kait. He’d bide his time and wait,
and drive as many wedges as possible between the pair during the next few days.

After breakfast had been consumed and cleaned up, Kait disappeared into her bedroom and Wolf disappeared outside.

When Kait returned, she was carrying a sketch pad and pencils.

“Wolf had them delivered,” she said with a joyous smile as she headed out to the back porch.

When he checked on Jillian again, he found Wolf sitting beside her bed. Their host looked up with a scowl as Cosky entered the room, the animosity as sharp as ever. Cosky shrugged and headed back out the door. It was no skin off his back if Wolf wanted to play guard dog. It would keep him away from Kait.

By the time he returned to the back porch, Kait was deep in her sketching. He sat there watching her—memorizing the absorbed look on her face, the faint frown as she tried to get the outline or shading just right, the way her thick, fat braid hung over her shoulder.

She was so beautiful, his chest ached.

At some point, he realized she was drawing a bird. It was still raw, sketched in black and white, but he recognized the ink strokes.

“You’re the artist of the yellow bird in the kitchen. And the blue-gray speckled one in the living room,” he said slowly, remembering how drawn he’d been to the two paintings. The birds had been so lifelike, he’d half expected them to take flight.

“The kestrel,” she said, looking up with a bright smile. “It’s one of my favorites. Such subtlety to its colors. Did you like it?”

He wasn’t sure which painting she was talking about. But it didn’t matter. They were both striking. “It’s beautiful. You’re very talented.”

A smile lit her face, as though he’d just handed her a gift precious beyond measure. She drew in a deep, lingering breath. The smile on her face was almost dreamy.

“Isn’t it glorious here? I don’t paint much anymore. I’ve moved into glass. But Wolf had an easel along with almost every paint imaginable delivered. So I’ll get plenty of painting in while we’re here.” A shadow slid over her face, and she shivered. But she shook the moment off, and turned the wattage up on that smile again. “You have no idea how incredibly expensive all that paint must have been.”

Cosky glanced around the million-dollar setting. “I’m guessing he can afford it.”

Kait’s smile died beneath the suspicion in his voice. “He’s not what you think, Cosky, trust me.”

“If he’s in Special Forces, Kait—like you say, like Russo claims—then he isn’t making enough money to afford a spread like this.”

She stared down at her sketch pad, her shoulders stiff. “His family has money. And he’s doing us a favor by letting us stay here until it’s safe.”

She didn’t ask the questions that were on both their minds: How long they were going to have to stay here. How they were going to resolve the danger. What the hell they were going to do.

All questions he had no answers for yet.

Right.

Cosky took a deep breath, let it out, and scrabbled for an innocuous subject that wouldn’t chill her voice or stiffen her shoulders or send shadows of fear skimming across her face.

One that wouldn’t mar her joy in her sketching or the beautiful morning.

“So is your artistic nature part of your Arapaho heritage?” he asked.

She laughed, relaxing. “No, my aunt Issa, my mother’s sister, was the artist. She taught me.”

Aiden had talked about an aunt. “She’s the one who stepped in after your mother died? Raised you while Commander Winchester was on deployment?”

“Yeah.” She stared into the forest surrounding them, memories chasing across her face. “At first she only stayed when Dad was gone. But after a while she moved in permanently.”

“You were close,” Cosky said softly.

“She was my mother in every way that counted.” Kait smiled wistfully. “I barely remembered my real mother. She died when I was six. But Issa…she gave up her life to raise us. She was there in the mornings to make us breakfast. There at night to tuck us in. She sat up nights with me when I was sick. Held me when I cried myself sick over some stupid boy. She taught me everything I know about painting and glass—she was my mother.”

There was a haunted quality to her words, the echo of grief.

“You still miss her.” The words were out before Cosky could call them back.

“I’ll always miss her,” Kait said simply. “She died from cancer, you know. A slow, vicious slide into pain and helplessness and death.” She swallowed hard, a tight mask creeping across her face.

Cosky thought of his father’s battle with the disease. It had stripped his dad of everything that had made him the man he was—of his strength, his independence, his control, his ability to provide for his family. It had taken everything from him, months before it had taken his life.

“I lost my father to cancer too,” he said quietly. “Lung cancer,” he added at her inquiring look. “Even though he hadn’t smoked in over thirty years. It’s the most god-awful feeling, watching while they’re stripped of their dignity and control and left helpless.”

“Except I should have been able to help,” Kait whispered. “I had the healing ability by then. I should have been able to heal her. Save her.”

“She was one of the seventy percent?” Cosky asked, remembering Aiden telling him she couldn’t heal everyone. That seventy percent of the time it didn’t work.

“I guess. It didn’t matter how many times I tried. None of my healings did a thing.” She was quiet for a moment. “I was so angry for so long after she died. I mean, what worth is such a gift, if I can’t use it to help those who matter the most to me?”

“You healed Aiden,” Cosky reminded her gently. “Maybe you should focus on the people you’ve helped, rather than those you haven’t.”

She laughed, honest amusement on her face. “You’re going to hate hearing this. But you sound just like Wolf. That’s what he keeps telling me.” She paused to smile at him. “Was your dad in the military too?”

“No, he was a cop. It’s ironic. My mother spent years worrying about him every time he hit the streets, certain we were going to lose him to a bullet, or a knife…Which would have been kinder actually—if he’d been killed on the job. At least it would have been instant.”

“You never know what’s down the road,” Kait said. “My friend Demi lost her husband because of a baseball. He was an accountant, talk about low-risk careers. They’re living the good life one moment,
the next he gets hit in the head at the company baseball game and he’s gone.”

Cosky frowned, shook his head slightly. “Anything can happen. Still, high-risk professions like law enforcement or”—he shot her a sideways glance—“special ops, they carry with them a hell of a lot more worry for the loved ones left waiting in the wings.”

Kait scoffed beneath her breath and picked up her pencil again. “Of course they do. But if it’s the right man, the worry is worth it. If you ask your mother, I bet she’d tell you she doesn’t regret one moment of the life she had with your dad, regardless of how much time she spent worrying.”

“You’ve seen what life is like for the women on the teams,” Cosky said—his head suddenly light and dizzy, as though the ground had shifted beneath his feet and he couldn’t find solid footing. “The constant worry, the heartache when that nightmare comes true. Hell—you experienced it firsthand with your father’s death, with Aiden when we dragged him, paralyzed, back to the States.”

She shrugged. “I’m not saying the worry isn’t there. Or the pain if you lose someone. I’m saying life is messy. Pain is part of life. The worry I feel over Aiden and Wolf’s safety, or the heartache when Dad died, that’s all part of loving them. I’m proud of them. Proud of their courage. Proud that they believe in our country enough to stand up for it, to sacrifice themselves for it. I wouldn’t trade one second of the time I had with Dad, or have with Aiden and Wolf, to avoid the worry when they’re out on rotation or the possible pain if they don’t come back.”

Her words slammed into Cosky like a Zodiac had flipped and smacked him in the head.

“You love him.” His voice was hoarse. Raw.

“Excuse me?” She looked startled.

“Wolf. Your
friend
. You just said you
loved
him,” Cosky said through his teeth.

“Well, of course I do,” Kait said carefully, her face suddenly cautious.

Cosky shot to his feet and took a tight trip around the veranda, shocked to find his hands and legs shaking.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Kait. You don’t have a clue who this guy is. You don’t know him. How the hell can you love him, when you don’t even know who the fuck he is?” he roared, forcing the words through the knife piercing his throat.

Kait shot to her feet, the sketch pad hitting the plank floor with a solid
splat
. “I do know him, damn it. He’s my brother. Okay? He’s Dad’s oldest son. My brother. Just like Aiden. And I’m not the only one who’s been blessed with a family gift. So I do know him, and a hell of a lot better than you. So
back off
.”

Turning, she stalked back into the house. The door slammed behind her.

Cosky was left alone on the porch, his mouth hanging open, relief turning his legs and arms weak.

Chapter Seventeen

M
AC SHIFTED IN
the shrubbery next to the hole they’d cut in the chain-link fence.

From the burned expanse of the metal links, the fence had been in place before the explosion had torched the lab.

Zane and Rawls were due back any moment from their recons around the sides and back of the building.

A slight rift of wind touched him. It carried with it a fresh, clean scent, like baby powder and fresh rain. His body recognized the scent before his mind did and instantly stiffened, in all the wrong places. He froze for just the barest second, while his heart suddenly jumped into overtime, and his mouth went dry. Neither reaction pleased him.

Straightening carefully, he turned toward the breeze, watching through a night vision device as Amy headed toward him in that brisk, no-nonsense stride of hers.

And damn if she didn’t have a night vision device too. Just fucking great, this was exactly what he’d been hoping to avoid.

At least she had the sense to keep her mouth shut—voices carried. And while the building seemed deserted, they hadn’t had a chance to check the interior yet. For all they knew there was a cleanup crew already inside.

A scowl firmly in place, he watched her weave through the shrubs flanking the fence. She used the cover like a pro. And she moved silently too. As silently as his team. If it hadn’t been for that scent he’d come to identify with her, he would never have known she’d made the connections and figured out their strategy.

She waited until she reached him and raised an eyebrow. He couldn’t see the color through the night vision device—the moon was all but obscured by Seattle’s customary cloud cover.

“So you’re not arriving for a few days, huh?” she said in a low voice, although he could clearly hear the sarcasm in her tone.

“We didn’t want you underfoot,” he snapped in an equally low voice.

He wanted to add a lot more, like where the hell she’d gotten the NVD and what the hell she’d been thinking heading out here on her own, instead of waiting for their arrival and if she’d lost her fucking mind to do something so foolhardy. His skin chilled at the thought of the danger she could have stumbled into.

None of which he said, because voices carried and she was already underfoot. But damn if he wasn’t going to lay into her when they got out of this place.

“It occurred to me there was no way in hell you’d wait days to check out the first solid lead we’ve had in months.”

“Assuming this place has any connection to flight 2077.”

“It’s connected,” Amy said, her voice turning grim. “It’s too much of a coincidence to be otherwise.”

True, and Mac wasn’t a big believer in coincidence either, but every once in a while a coincidence really was just a coincidence.

“Where’s the rest of your team?”

“Recon.” Mac turned slightly to scan the blackened, smoke-smelling husk in front of them. “There’s no security.”

“Doesn’t that seem a bit suspicious?” Amy whispered.

It did, but then again, maybe the destruction within was so complete, it made a security detail worthless. Why bother guarding something if there was no worth attached?

Could be this whole trip up north had been one giant waste of time.

His cell vibrated and he lifted it to his ear.

“Nothing around back,” Zane said softly. “Rawls reports the same to the east.”

“Clear on this end,” Mac offered quietly. “But we have a visitor.”

Zane’s voice didn’t change, but then he’d given him the all clear. “Who?”

“Chastain’s wife.” He could hear the bite in his own voice.

“Amy?” Surprise echoed in Zane’s voice.

“You know of any other wives the man had?” Mac tried to smooth the edge from his voice, but it was impossible.

“Copy. I’ll let Rawls know. Is she breeching the interior with us?”

“No. Insert from your ends. I’m headed in from here.” Although Mac suspected they wouldn’t have much to do with that decision. The woman was about as hardheaded as they came, and she’d already appeared out of nowhere in the dead of night. Mac doubted she had any plans to stand around outside and twiddle her thumbs.

Of course they could always use a lookout. They were down half their insertion team since Russo, Hollister, Tag, and Tram had been called up.

Like that timing hadn’t been suspicious as hell.

Slipping the cell phone back into his jeans’ pocket, he turned toward her again. “You might actually prove useful; we need a lookout.”

Her snort clearly expressed her opinion of that plan.