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Back at the cabin…

February 4, 2012

He rattled the pots and pans as he boiled water for coffee and reheated last night’s meatloaf. She didn’t like instant coffee. That fact satisfied him.

“You’re just going to sulk because a woman kicked your ass – twice. Or is it because you didn’t get any?” She curled around him without touching him like smoke around a tree branch.

“One day you’re going to wish someone wanted you.” He flipped the knob that controlled the coffee water to the off position and spooned three teaspoons of caffeine into a cup.

“So you’re my knight in dingy armor?”

“Your knights don’t live long enough to enjoy it, do they?” He noted an ever-so-slight tic of a reaction. Did he finally prick a nerve?

“What makes you think I ever let those guys have me?” She pushed back the kitchen curtain, peered out the window a moment, then sat back down at the table. “Never happened, bub.”

“Individually or collectively?”

A laugh burst out of her mouth before her answer. “Are you trying to piss me off? I could care less about your opinion of me, but I won’t try.”

He gestured an offer off coffee and she shook her head no. “I did a little research on you while you were out.”

“Oh really? What kind of reach does a small-time cop like you have?”

“I’ve been around, babe. For instance, I know you bailed on your last three operations.” She rewarded him with one slightly arched eyebrow. “I also know they kept you on because of your close rate. While you clearly are losing your edge, you still have what it takes to fool most of the people most of the time.”

She poked her piece of meatloaf around her plate a trip or five. “Good men have died for less info on me than that. You better hope your connection is safe.”

“I would normally interpret a statement like that as a sign you care. I’ll take it as a personal warning – from you.” She tensed slightly. He lowered his right hand to his waist, near his pistol.

“Relax, if I wanted you dead, I’d have had you long ago.”

“What’s your game. Scuttlebutt I picked up says you turned.”

“What’s up with a question like that? Why would I turn on my own people?”

“The question is not have you turned. The question is – how many times, and is it now back in our favor?”

She finally opts to take a bite. “I guess that depends on ‘whose’ favor you’re speaking of. Friends in the Pentagon are not necessarily friends to the United States.”

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