Page 68 of Deadly Strain

She stared at him for a moment, as if unsure of his sincerity, then rolled her eyes. “Make sure you tell Max. Maybe I’ll get a raise.”

He chuckled and said, “It’s going to take some time for us to get to Cutter’s friend. Grab some sleep while you can.” He tapped his shoulder as an invitation to her to lean her head on him.

He couldn’t hold her, not with others watching, but he could do this much.

“If things don’t get cleared up in less than six hours, Max is going to come to us with a mobile lab he thinks is capable of handling anthrax.”

“Okay, that might work. If it doesn’t, we’ll figure it out. Go to sleep.”

“What about you?”

“I’m going to keep watch, but Hernandez, Runnel, and March are heading toward dreamland.” He angled his chin toward his teammates, who had put their heads back.

She looked at them, then nodded. “Okay. Wake me when we get...wherever.” She leaned against him, her head on his shoulder.

She was such a tiny thing, hard to believe she’d kept up with him the way she did. Damn, if that didn’t make him hotter for her than ever.

Her breathing evened out within a minute or two. She was wiped out.

He glanced up and caught Hernandez grinning at him. Then the bastard winked. Sharp flipped him the finger. Hernandez closed his eyes and let his head fall back.

He’d better not tease Grace. He’d have a chat with his team first chance and tell them not to make her feel uncomfortable. He didn’t give a shit if they gave him a hard time, but she wasn’t him.

Cutter’s journal rested next to him. He picked it up and began reading through it, attempting to locate any information that might be useful in their current situation.

Cutter had a lot of training notes, names and descriptions of Afghans who he felt were safe to approach for information, and a few hand-drawn maps of different areas of the country. Areas that didn’t have much in the way of official maps.

Sharp went back to the info on Cutter’s CIA friend. The guy was an American, the son of Afghanis who’d immigrated to the States fifteen years ago. He spoke three languages without accent, had a degree in power engineering and a journeyman’s ticket in automobile mechanics. He’d been in Afghanistan for the last three years, running a sort of general store and fix-it shop in an abandoned military base the Soviets used in the northern part of the country.

He traded in information, supplies, and repairs. The Taliban left him alone because he could get almost anything from anywhere and he fixed up their cars. The CIA used him for information and occasionally a place to hide people they didn’t want anyone to find.

Cutter had gone to university with him and graduated in the same class. On Cutter’s first deployment, he’d saved his CIA buddy’s life. Sharp just hoped the guy had aviation fuel in that store of his.

Then he found the notes on Marshall. There was a question mark near the name Joseph Cranston. Who was that? Then he got to the interesting part.

Cranston was credited with saving Grace’s life in the same incident where she earned her Bronze Star, but there was also a sealed note on Cranston’s record. Cutter hadn’t been able to access it. Most of the time, when a portion of a record was sealed, it was bad news. What had happened that day?

He went back to reread the info about Cutter’s friend. Going there was a risk. There wasn’t anyone to support them if any unfriendlies were around. Unfortunately, going anywhere else was even more hazardous thanks to Marshall’s bullshit story about them murdering fellow soldiers.

They’d just have to stay alert and keep Grace out of sight as much as possible.

Fuck. She wasn’t going to like that.

Clark waved at him from the copilot’s seat, so Sharp put the headset on.

“We’re five minutes out,” he said.

“Roger.” He used one foot to nudge Hernandez. He woke up and Sharp pointed at his watch then five fingers. Hernandez kicked March and Runnel, and gave them the same message.

Sharp put a hand on Grace’s shoulder and gave her a gentle shake. She woke with a start, but recovered quickly enough, blinking at him with her big blue eyes. She glanced around, then gave him a weak smile.

“Are we there?” she asked, not loud enough to be heard over the engine, but he could read her lips just fine.

“Almost. I want everyone alert.”

She nodded, straightened up and yelled out, “I need a weapon.”

She did.

---