Page 58 of Gryphon

And chosen to ignore him!

He grabbed the hood flopping off the back of her parka and gave it a hard yank. He caught her off-stride and she went tumbling into the snowbank.

She slapped for her knife as she rolled, but all her mitten grabbed was a handful of snowpants. His lucky day, again triggering her SASR attack mode, but not being stabbed by his lover.

Before she switched tactics and launched herself at him in some lethal form of hand-to-hand combat, he held up a gloved palm.

“Stop, Harper. Just stop!”

She remained hunkered in a crouch but didn’t attack. Why had he ever thought this relationship was in any way charming? His near-death experience in Denver was one time too many. So why had he signed up to have it be a daily possibility by the woman sharing his bed?

“You’re talking about flying to Georgia?”

Holly’s glare answered that.

“Taking on whoever one-on-one?” Why did he bother asking? “Well, you can’t take Miranda.”

Holly rocked back on her heels and tipped her head sideways. At least now she was listening.

Then, so fast he never saw it happen, she grabbed his parka and dragged him into the snowbank with her.

He came up out of the snow sputtering—to see a Gripen jet zipping along the road, emerging from the swirling snow to overrun where he’d been standing moments before. The pilot looked down at him in surprise, probably wondering what the hell he was doing on a clearly posted No Access road. Then the heat of the exhaust washed over them in a thick stink of burned Jet A fuel.

He pushed to his feet—

And Holly yanked him down again—moments before the wingtip of the second jet passed through where his head had been.

He definitely should not have been thinking about near-death experiences. He’d forgotten fighter jets tended to travel in pairs. The rising wind and his parka’s hood had masked the sounds.

Holly stood up, but Mike decided to remain in the snow.

“You can’t take Miranda,” he repeated from his place of safe repose.

“Why not?”

“Holly, when did you turn stupid? It doesn’t become you.”

Holly stared off into the distance. Her eyes finally refocused and she looked down at him, “Is she really that close to the edge?”

Mike wanted to point out she wasn’t the only one. He let his silence be his answer.

Holly dropped down to sit in the snow opposite him. “They’ve downed three aircraft in twenty-four hours. We’ve got to stop this or the horror show is only just beginning.”

“A horror show that’s only going to push Miranda that much harder,” Mike pointed out.

“And the World War that happens if NATO and Russia go head-to-head?”

She was right. Mike knew the answer as well. He hated it, of course, but something so obvious couldn’t be brushed aside as easily as having his head pithed by the missile hanging from a fighter jet’s wingtip.

He was done—except he wasn’t.

He’d checked out. Ready to head home; a word that had only the dodgiest of meanings to him.

But if he walked away? War!

“Why the hell couldn’t this have landed in someone else’s lap?”

Holly flapped her hands helplessly. “We could call Drake or the President, but this whole scenario is only a guess. They’d probably laugh their asses off at us. Well, maybe not, but then we’re all up in bureaucratic snarls and questions sent to the Georgian government who, if we’re right, is the one trying to start the war in the first place. We’re the action team on the ground, Mike. That means something. We have the best information and the lowest profile. No one can match that. Not before NATO General Sandor Kurbanov tells his people to pull the trigger on Article 5.”

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