Page 26 of Chinook Winds

Unimaginable.

Collins checked his watch. Almost six. He should be arriving at any moment. Through the years, he’d reached out to him many times. It was partly because of him, but mostly because of his mentor, that the plan for his team to fake their deaths and be reborn came about. He’d learned from the best.

Someone came into the room. Kincaid. Collins had unlocked his door with the threat that if he said so much as a single misplaced word, he’d pay dearly. Kincaid had been subdued ever since Collins shot him and told him he was no longer important to the cause. If Kincaid stepped out of line again, he’d be gone and so would his wife.

“What do you want?” Collins asked when Kincaid continued to watch him.

“I-I overheard your conversation. If Strike Force has Duncan, he’ll talk. We should get out of the country while we still can.”

Collins strode across the room, and Kincaid hobbled backwards. “If I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it. You are in no position to tell me what to do. Duncan is being dealt with. And he doesn’t know about this place. He only has the phone number of someone who does. . . like you.”

“Martinez,” Kincaid scoffed. “Are you sure you trust him? He seems mercenary to me.”

Collins grabbed him by the throat and glared. “I trust him more than I ever did you. I know Martinez is loyal.”

“Like you did Emerson. Duncan.”

Rage filled him up. Blurred his vision. He squeezed Kincaid’s throat tight. The man grabbed at his hand. Tried to force his fingers away. His face turned red as he struggled to breathe.

“Please,” Kincaid forced the word out.

Collins squeezed hard one more time and let the man go.

Kincaid coughed and sputtered. He rubbed his throat.

“Don’t ever question my authority again. I told you before. You are not needed anymore. I can do this on my own. You do not want to test me.”

Kincaid shrank away. While Collins continued to seethe, a single knock sounded at the door. In an instant, his mood lightened.

“Good, he’s here.” He headed for the door.

“Who’s here?” Kincaid pushed the question out.

Collins didn’t answer. He went to the door and pulled it open.

He hadn’t seen this man for more than five years. They’d kept in touch. In the past, Collins had worshiped everything this man said.

The older man smiled at the sight of him.

Collins was not one for showing gratitude to others, but this man, well, he deserved it. He hugged him tight. “I’m glad you made it. Did you have any trouble?”

“None at all. I came here like it was yesterday instead of years.”

Collins’s smile slipped a little. “I’m sorry that it has taken so long to get you back. It should have been sooner. You deserved to be here.”

The man stared into his eyes. A chill sped up Collins’s spine at their coldness, a complete contradiction to the smile on his face.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m here now. And we have work to do.” He clasped Collins’s shoulder. The strength of this man was surprising considering his age.

“Come inside.” He held the door open.

Kincaid stood by the fireplace watching the exchange with a wary expression on his face.

Collins closed the door. Faced Kincaid.

“Who is this?” Kincaid asked as he stared at the man beside Collins.

Collins turned. Smiled. “This is the man who helped make me who I am today. An inspiration. Edward Buckley. My father.”

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