Page 46 of S.O.S. Mizzay

“And that’s why you need next week off,” Del surmised. “It’s time to relocate your witness again.”

“Exactly.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Present day hideaway in Pennsylvania…

Cobble paced, because it was the only thing hecoulddo.

Andy was arriving soon, and as excited as he was about that, healsoknew he was in for a fight.

But he was ready.

He was actuallypastready. He’d been in hiding for nearly fourteen years, with constant assurance from Chuck and Andy that things could wrap up at any time; come to a head. But they hadn’t. And where had that gotten him? Over a decade of fake names, seven pack-up-and-moves—or was it eight—with no way of cementing anything permanent between him and the woman he’d come to love.

As much as the first two things sucked ass, the last one burned it. He was thirty-six, for God’s sake, and Andy was thirty-four. It was past time for them to have arealrelationship; to contemplate living together, marriage, and kids. Hell, at this stage he’d settle for being able to see her on a whim, whatever that felt like, because spontaneity hadn’t exactly been a hallmark in his life.

Having Andy available all the time, any time, would be a vast improvement over their weekly burner phone calls, their clandestine bimonthly hook-ups at cheap motels, and the thing he always looked forward to; the entire week they’d spend together each time she helped him relocate. Their connection ran deeper during those interludes, but the precious days they allowed themselves, passed far too quickly.

The best, of course, had been the lovely period where she’d snuck away to be with him often at her parents’ compound,before they’d had to pack him up to leave. That separation had sucked. Cobble had come to know and love Andy’s family well. They’d given their blessings on the relationship that had blossomed between him and Andy, saying they’d welcome him as a part of their family. Not that Cobble had told Andy he loved her. He’d thought he had time. He’d been wrong.

Andy’s brother Nik, the attorney, had become involved with a case that had gone so high-profile, that reporters had started dogging the man’s heels and following him home. The family, along with Andy and Chuck, had determined it would only be a matter of time before one of the nosy journalists stumbled onto his presence, so he’d had to relocate. Again.

But never again.

Tonight, he and Andy would be having their first fight.Well.Their second huge blow out. The first had been when Andy had decided to risk her life to further their intelligence and go after the CIA operative. But they’d eventually made up, and subsequently butt heads over minor things many times thereafter. It had all been done in a healthy way; debating and arguing were par for the course with a strong-minded woman like Andy…or should he say Mizzay?

Nah. He couldn’t do that, thoughthat’s what she was called these days. When she went on those clever and decisive over-the-top tirades Cobble actually enjoyed, she was definitely channeling her bad-ass self; the one who went by the name her SOS team had given her.

Today, however, would be difficult. Whether it was Mizzay or Andy who grabbed the helm once he stated his case, Cobble was ready for battle. She’d get an earful, and shewasn’tgoing to dissuade him from his new trajectory. Neither was Chuck, who would also have a fit once he found out.Oh, yes. Mizzay often played dirty and employed Chuck’s help when Cobble started second guessing their strategies regarding the ongoing case.

Not. This. Time.

Cobble had spent the last few years really thinking about things, and this was it. He’d made up his mind. The people who were after him would either be taken down, or Cobble would die.

Which was fine. He couldn’t keep living like this.

Cobble glanced at the clock again. Andy should be here soon.

He thought back over his day, and how for the umpteenth time in fourteen years he’d had to say goodbye to a job he loved and the people with whom he’d become friends. Nobody, not one of his work colleagues or buddies he’d gotten close to over the years, had ever understood why he’d had to move on, and he couldn’t tell them. Which sucked.

Cobble had spent many a night, drowning his misgivings in whisky, grieving the loss of those fleeting relationships.

For his sanity, he’d kept a list of all the people he’d wronged by skipping out of their lives. If they let him, he’d visit eventually and explain. Some, he understood, would probably hold their hurt close, not wanting his excuses no matter how valid. But some might be able to forgive Cobble, and become part of his new life once his adversaries were either dead or out of the way.

He squared his shoulders, staring out into the night.

One thing Cobble had never become, no matter the setback, was defeated. During his years’ long time-out—as he not-so-fondly called it—he’d accomplished a lot of things.

Once his career with the military had been cut short and after he’d taken on his second or third alias, he’d gone back to school. Not for any degrees in his own name, mind you, because how could he get credentials when he was registered under an alias?No.He’d taken all kinds of schooling just to exercise his brain and learn things he’d never had time to study when he was younger, coming from a family who revered enlisting young, and moving up in the military ranks before returning to civilian life to work in the trades.

College-time had been like candy to Cobble, augmenting his already proficient, hands-on skills.

He'd used the carpentry chops he’d honed as a teenager, working for his father, to get construction jobs, and like a lot of under-the-radar firms, nobody who hired him was ever concerned very much with references. They’d just asked him to prove himself on the job, which he’d done time and time again with relish, then kept him employed.

On another note, Cobble had wanted to keep up his self-defense training and finely-honed physique, so he’d joined as many martial arts and adventure clubs as possible along the way. He’d received multiple certifications, even graduating a twelve-week course as an instructor in wilderness survival. Other classes followed, in things completely unrelated to anything he’d done before; cooking, gardening, knitting…

These small additions were the perks that had kept him sane during his concealment; those, along with being placed with Andy’s family before having to move again. He’d felt very useful there, and had—for the first time since he could remember—been fully engaged in life instead of perseverating over his fucked-up situation; sitting in one of his other houses-of-the-moment, moping.

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