Page 43 of Legacy's Call

He smiled wickedly. “You should be.”

Oh, God. That threat was not cooling the heat between her legs. Another full-body shiver drove through her. She wanted more of that sensation. More of him, more of them. He lowered and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “We can’t. Not until we have some semblance of privacy.”

“Four days.”

“Three. I’m taking us in the day before. I’ll sell my soul to get us a private billet.” He lifted away from her and sat on his heels as his hands slid to her hips.

She reached up and touched his cheek. “It could be a long three days.”

His eyes closed, and he drew a deep breath. “No doubt.” His eyes popped open again, and he hit his ear. “Go.” He was up on his feet before she knewwhat was happening. “On my way.” He was across the tent, grabbing his M-4 as he ordered, “Stay here.”

She didn’t have a chance to answer him. He was gone. A finger of fear launched down her spine. She glanced at the flap to the outside and walked over to it. She moved it and stared into the darkness. She could hear the sounds of the camp and … The sounds of shouting. A gunshot split the night. Fleur grabbed the tent flap. Another shot. She saw Miller emerge from his tent. “Stay in your tent!” she yelled at him. He glanced over at her and acknowledged her with a wave.

The wait was horrendous. The minutes dragged, and each tiny sound was amplified. There were no normal camp sounds, and the area was eerily quiet except for a baby crying toward the back of the camp, which faded after a few minutes. Fleur pulled one of the chairs by the ad hoc table and sat outside the tent, waiting for what seemed like an eternity. She saw Ronan walking through the camp, and her feet moved of their own accord. She flew over the ground, leaped ground ties, and launched herself against him. “Are you okay? Your team?”

“We’re fine. I need to talk to Miller. Let’s go.”

She let go of him and walked with him to Miller’stent. “What happened?” The camp leader demanded as soon as he saw Ronan.

“Let’s go inside.” Ronan nodded to Miller’s tent.

“Right. Come in.” Miller led them in. The flap to his private bunk was open, but he directed them toward the desk. “Was anyone hurt?”

“The man who’d taken a girl shot at one of my men. That was a deadly mistake. The girl is fine, and someone named Tammara is talking to her. Shelly said she was the camp counselor.”

“Yes, yes, she is. Dear God. How did he get in?”

Fleur swung her attention to Ronan, wanting the same answer. “It appears one of your staff or one of the camp occupants has been cutting holes in the fence, allowing the poaching of the camp's occupants.”

“What are you talking about?” Miller blustered. “One of the NGOs? That can’t be. Who?”

“It’s true. The cuts in the fence prove it. We were able to see the damage before someonefixedit.” Ronan leaned forward. “The cuts were between militia posts protecting the man who came into the camp. My men were patrolling when they saw him pulling the girl toward the fence.”

“How do we determine who’s responsible?” Miller shook his head. “My God, like we don’t haveenough problems without someone inside the camp helping those bastards.”

“And identifying where the unaccompanied people are located. Wraith questioned the people in surrounding huts and shelters. Some were still awake and heard nothing. That tells me this man knew where he was going and who he was after.”

“Fuck,” Miller whispered. “We search everything that comes into the camp. Wire cutters would have been confiscated and placed in the lockdown bin.”

“The what?” Ronan asked.

“The lockdown bin is where we put arrivals’ potentially dangerous possessions. They’re tagged with the person’s name and given back when they leave—knives over three inches long, heating elements with no controls—a fire would spread through the camp like wildfire. We have designated fire areas for those who want to cook their food.” Miller shook his head. “I check that box every morning and every night to ensure it’s secured. I have a key, and so does Fleur. Besides us, no one opens or closes it.”

Ronan glanced at her, and she nodded in agreement. Although the bin contained many small items, she’d never seen wire cutters. Ronan turned back to Miller and said, “Which leads us to one of the staff.”

“But who? Why?”

“The who I can’t answer yet. The why? Money.” Ronan stood up. “I’m heading to the militia camp to see if anyone will ID the man who was killed. It’s a long shot.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Pull in your trusted staff. Fleur, Shelly, the ones you know one hundred percent wouldn’t be involved. Keep it small. Four or five people. Let them know what we suspect. Have them keep their eyes open as they move around the camp. Look for clearings beside the fence line or anyone who happens to be lingering by the fence. Also, anyone counting steps.”

“Counting steps?” Fleur was confused.

“They’re measuring the distance from the opening to the victim’s location. But, Miller, without fail, no one is to engage with the person acting suspiciously. I can’t stress that hard enough. Let us handle it. If this person thinks they’re trapped, they could lash out, and you could lose more staff.” He stood up and looked at Fleur. “I won’t be back anytime soon.”

“I’ll put your food away.” She stood up, too.

---