Page 113 of The Art of Dying

“Okay, just… not yet. Please. I just can’t right now, I…” she wiped her eye, and I pulled her up and against my chest.

“Hey. I’m sorry…” I looked up and sighed, feeling like a piece of shit. “Damn it, I’m sorry, honey. Only when you’re ready, okay?”

She looked up at me and nodded.

She pressed her lips against mine and then I reached below the sheets, gently gliding my fingers over the top of her panties. When she opened her mouth to let my tongue slip inside, I lifted the hem and took it as an invitation to do the same with my finger. Before I even touched her, the quietest hum escaped her lips, and right when I thought I might have a chance at some morning sex, the kids came running in like they were bulls and the hallway to our bedroom was a road in Pamplona.

We wrestled for a bit before I got up to get dressed. I pulled on a ball cap, helped Emily brush her teeth and then tried to get some boxes out of Mack’s way so she at least had a path to walk from room to room. I kissed them all goodbye before hopping in to my brand-new Ford F150, driving toward the Cheyenne Mountain Complex. I pressed a button, rolling down the window and hooking my arm over the door, letting the cool air blast my face. By afternoon, I’d be sweatin’ my balls off. I couldn’t wait to see my team again, together like the good ole’ days. Trex at the helm, Naomi with her shitty quips, Martinez fighting the urge to tell me I’m crazy, Sloan being a grumpy old asshole, and Harbinger being his dry, monotone self. Then, after walking halls and bullshitting, I’d get to come home to my family and hear all about their day, face to face.

We agreed it was best for Mack to keep homeschooling Dylan and Emily for the time being so we didn’t chance any ghost sightings, but we’d found a homeschooling pod and he was starting flag football soon. Once we finally told everyone the truth, my kids could play with the Harbinger boys for the first time. I wasn’t even sure if Dylan remembered anyone from my team. He never talked about them, and that broke my fuckin’ heart, because they were family.

That sad thought helped, because moments before, I was so happy I could barely contain it. By the first security gate, I’d have to rein it in, anyway. Yeah, if my team asked, I wouldn’t lie, but it would throw up too many red flags if I was walking in grinning ear to ear when in their minds I was a grieving widower.

I drove down a narrow road to the parking garage and then showed my badge to the armed guard. He buzzed me in and stared forward.

Yeesh. They act like fuckin’ robots around here.

I followed the directions Trex had told me the night before, and finally stopped in front of the door. I felt kind of giddy, like I was going on a first date or something. “Get it together, Kitsch. You’re pissed off at the world.”

Just before I reached for the handle, my phone pinged. I fished it from a pocket of my cargo pants to see a notification from Tiger. His text was short. His team was positioned just outside of Moscow with a lead on Number Four.

It was his turn to hunt down our enemies, terminating on-sight any associate of Mason Hughes who might retaliate against any of us for his death. Tiger had a list, and although the first three were marked off in the quick and dirty style he was famous for, that was the Sudanese. The Russians recognized the danger and scattered like cockroaches. The focus of NEMESIS had switched from security to search and destroy, but in our last meeting, neither of us could think of a reason to feel bad about it.

I sent a thumbs up and dropped my cell back into my pocket, frowning before slowly opening the door. I removed my hat and scanned the room, seeing all familiar faces. Martinez, Harbinger, and Naomi were already standing around a rectangular table. The room was blank like the halls, a generic room with a generic table, all beige. It had a sterile feel to it, but it smelled musty.

“Kitsch,” Naomi said, walking over. “So good to see you.” She wrapped her arms around my neck and squeezed. She was tanner than normal, probably from her time in Vegas. Her hair was still dark, eyes still sparkled, but her bright smile was gone.

I hugged her back and then she stood like it had never happened.

Harbinger was on the other side of the table, running his fingers once through his silver hair. Martinez was stand-offish, too, and by the looks of it, he’d been hanging out by the pool with Naomi. He’d been hitting the gym, though. His shoulders were bulging out of his shirt, his neck thicker than I remembered.

“Where’s Trex?” I asked.

Naomi shrugged a shoulder. “He’s either late or they asked him to report later than us.”

“The latter,” I said. Harbinger said the exact same thing at the exact same time.

God, I missed my team.

“You were here first?” I asked Naomi.

She nodded. “Couldn’t sleep. You?”

“Tossed and turned. Karen probably wanted to kill me.” I had to say it. I wanted to see her reaction.

As expected, everyone paused, and that familiar judgment and discomfort settled into the room.

“How’re the kids?” Naomi asked.

She wanted everyone to think she was a bitch, but there she stood, asking about my kids when she thought they’d passed years ago.

“Emily’s almost outgrown her car seat, you know. We’re looking for a booster seat now. That’s a thing, I guess.”It wasn’t a complete lie. We’d done that a couple of years back and, in their minds, Emily was still four.“And Dylan’s talking about football this year.”That one’s true.

Naomi patted my shoulder. “Time flies, man.”

The door opened, and I waved to Sloan. He still looked the same, tall and lanky, but a few more years older around the eyes.

“You’re too late for the official greeting,” Naomi said.

---