Page 40 of Homecoming

There were a three guys standing around, watching them. Black knew he could probably hand this off to Fontana to fix, but the Foxhole was his responsibility. “Hey, Cookie, would you mind running down the mountain and getting Grace Lane? I can’t exactly get away right this second.” He held up his grease-stained hands.

Drogo Cooke gave him his trademarked scowl, muttering about the cold, his thumbs planted in the webbed military belt around his waist. Cookie wasn’t a very big guy, but he reeked of danger, with close-cropped sandy blond hair and several heavy scars on his face. He’d been in the South African Special Forces, and the marks were from before he was tested upon in the Spartan program. Maybe he wasn’t the right one to send. He might scare Grace.

Old Henry didn’t talk, though. Even as Owen watched, he backed away from the doorway and disappeared. And Elvis— Drew Potter— hadn’t driven anything since he’d been here. He was a double lower leg amputee, so Black didn’t know if he could. They didn’t have anything hand controlled he could drive, other than the four-wheelers. “Maybe you two can go together, or something.”

Cookie looked at Potter, considering. “Come on, then, Elvis. Let’s go get Cap’n’s woman.”

Cookie gave Black a salacious wink, and Black wondered if he’d fucked up. It was hard to tell what Cookie would do with Grace. He wouldn’t hurt her, but if he could find some way to needle Black, he would. Cookie was a hard worker, but he had a tendency to stir the shit. “Be nice,” he growled, giving the shorter man a glare.

Then he glanced at Drew. The former Ranger was younger and had a good head on his shoulders, though he took a little more supervision. The guys called him Elvis because they would send him to do something, and Drew would lose track of time. Then they would have to track him down through a series of ‘sightings’. Hence, the name Elvis. Theoretically, he couldn’t get through the primary fence, but there was a lot of untamed land up on these mountains.

Spartan had ruined Drew’s mind, and it was only luck that had brought him back. One of the extraction teams had almost missed him in the jungle. A guy had wandered off to take a leak and found Drew buried in a hole, away from the main camp, with just his head exposed to the elements. They’d dug him up, but it had taken months in the Elton building recovering. Despite their best efforts, they’d had to amputate his lower legs after a man-made infection they couldn’t resolve had eaten into his bones. As soon as he’d been fitted with prosthetics, he’d been walking. It was like the months in bed had reminded him how nice it was to get up and move, and he would never give it up again.

Drew’s face dropped into a frown as he looked at Cookie, but he turned and headed toward the mudroom, where their winter gear was stored. Cookie still wasn’t happy, glaring from the doorway.

“You need to go now, before we ruin Grunt’s dinner,” Fontana warned. “If we do, we’ll pay for it for weeks.”

That seemed to get through to him. With a pissed-off harrumph, Cookie left.

They tinkered for another twenty minutes before they felt like they were done. Dominic was staring at the dials on the wall, reading water pressure and kilowatts produced. “We still have a tiny wobble in there, but it’s better than it was. I think we’ll be okay for a while.”

Fontana’s hand was resting on the generator, feeling the energy looping through the coils. With a smile, he pulled away and clasped the small man’s shoulder. “Good job, Dom. Producing almost like she was three hours ago.”

The man smiled slightly, dropping his head. “I’m going to stay awhile and monitor the output.”

Nodding, Black and Fontana left. Dominic Dart had an affinity to water that was truly amazing. Black had worried when he’d first come down here because there was little standing water around. There was a pond on the other mountain, but it was a hike to get there. He didn’t think Dom would have anything to do once he arrived. Man, had he been wrong. As soon as Dominic arrived, he’d started mapping out all the springs and streams in the area. Then he’d fielded the idea of a power plant on the main stream, and it had taken off from there.

“You nervous about Grace coming to dinner,” Fontana asked, and Black winced.

“Yeah, a little. It’s hard to tell what the guys will do. Some of them aren’t… ideal for human consumption.”

Fontana chuckled. “Isn’t that the truth? I think she’ll be fine. Jordyn and Angela will hang with her if she needs support.”

Sighing, Black nodded and headed for his rooms. He needed a shower in the worst way.

FOURTEEN

Grace wondered if she was an idiot getting into the truck with the two unfamiliar men. One looked pissed beyond reason, like he would rather be doing anything else but driving her. And she kind of got that. It was Christmas night, and it had started to snow. He would probably rather be warm and snug in a cabin somewhere than grabbing her.

The second guy smiled at her slightly when she joined them at the truck, and motioned for her to get into the front seat. He took the back seat, settling her insulated casserole dish beside him. “Black sent us down to retrieve you while he gets cleaned up. We had an issue with the power plant tonight.”

“I hope it was nothing serious,” she said, climbing into the truck and snapping her seatbelt on.

The second man accelerated away from her shop and sped through the town. She opened her mouth to warn him that the Sheriff would be on his ass if he caught him, but she doubted anyone at the sheriff’s department was on duty. On call, maybe.

“I’m sorry you had to come down the mountain to get me,” she told the guy driving.

“Don’t make no matter to me,” he said, and she wondered where he was from. She thought perhaps South Africa, but she couldn’t be sure.

“I told Owen I could drive my SUV, but he didn’t want me driving tonight.”

The man glanced at her, then back at the road. “Better do what Owen says then,” he muttered, and there was a particular emphasis on his name.

“Don’t mind Cookie,” the man in the back said, voice low. “He just hates the snow and the cold. It wasn’t that big of a deal to come get you.”

“Well, I appreciate it. I’m Grace,” she said, waving a hand lightly.

“Cookie,” the man in the back said, tipping his head toward the driver. “And I’m Drew. Or you can call me Elvis like the rest of the guys.”

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