The Bloody Viking
Saxon
I've got that cold hard lump in my gut. I always get it before an op. Nerves? Excitement? Fear? A little of everything.
Beside me, Terra is clearly nervous, and trying to hide it.
I don't like the look in her eye—I can't read it, and I don't like that.
We're a mile away from the meeting point—a county park in a rural area equidistant between Jean-Paul's place in Connecticut and the ski resort base in Vermont. Jean-Paul picked a good spot—I checked it out on Google Earth before leaving, examining topography, potential lines of sight, egress routes, the works. Not as good as doing preliminary in-person recon, obviously, but the best I can do under the circumstances.
I pull the Range Rover off the narrow gravel drive leading from the two-lane highway to the park entrance, turn it around, and back it up into a small stand of trees a quarter of a mile off the road.
Grab the bag from the footwell behind us, and pull out two burners—mine, and an additional one courtesy of Jean-Paul, seeing as Terra's purse is MIA—hopefully either with her friends or en route to Vegas.
Mine has missed calls—Inez. "Fuck," I snarl. Dial her back.
"Saxon. About time."
"Sorry, been a little…busy."
"Even apart, you three are peas in a pod." There's outright amusement in her voice. "Silas has been busy, as has Solomon. Silas has wrapped up his situation. Solomon's is still somewhat…liquid."
"They okay?"
"So far. Silas, at least. I had to get involved with Silas's issue. He got himself into a pretty interesting situation."
I chuckle. "He's good at that. What's her name?"
"Naomi." A pause. "And you? What's your situation's name?"
I look at Terra. "Terra Connelly."
"Are you handling it?"
"Wrapping it up as we speak." I bite the bullet. "She's coming home with me."
"I assumed." Another long pause. "Is there anything you require?"
I sigh. "Not that you can give, not now. Not soon enough."
"Saxon…I feel I must remind you of your vow. It is a sacred vow—not to me, not to your brothers in blood or in arms, but to yourself."
"I know," I whisper.
"Good. I look forward to meeting the woman who could crack that shell of yours so quickly."
"Hey, Inez?"
"Yes."
