Page 58 of Nightfire

“Ellen.” She nearly cried at the raw emotion in his voice, at what she saw in his eyes. “Another child? Oh, God. Another child?”

She knew what it meant to him. The same that it meant to her. They were without family, had been alone in the world for a very long time. They’d found each other and made Gracie, who filled their lives with joy. Then Chloe had been found. Now another child.

It was almost too much happiness.

Harry collapsed on top of her as if his arms suddenly couldn’t support his weight. His shoulders shook and she held him tightly, tightly, kissing his ear, his neck, his face. Anything her mouth could touch. She embraced him with her arms and legs, trying to wrap herself around him and as they kissed, he slipped inside her and they rocked gently together, Harry, Ellen and the child she was carrying.

THIRTEEN

Mike wheeled in Chloe’s suitcase and parked it against the wall. They’d stopped by her apartment so she could get some things. She could go back any time she wanted for things she might need, as long as he was with her. Or Barney. And only for about ten minutes.

Otherwise she was going to stay in his apartment until they figured out what was going on.

Because his apartment had a steel-reinforced door with steel panels extending either side and security cams outside.

His gun locker had two Glock 19s, two Glock 23s, a Colt 1911A1, a Browning High Power, a Sig Sauer P-226, an HK USP Compact Tactical four, a Colt AR-15A Carbine, two M-4 rifles exactly like the ones he carried in the Marines, an enormous Mossberg 590 Combat Shotgun, good for killing anything including bears, a Remington 700, a Barrett M92, a Barrett M95 and his baby, a Barrett MRAD which could probably take down a bad guy on the moon. And fifty thousand rounds of ammo.

Two scopes, combat helmets and night vision googles that fit over the helmets, two sets of specially-made body armor tailored for his extra-wide frame. All his weapons were spotless and oiled. A hundred feet of cable, four grapples of varying sizes. Ten flashbangs. Fourteen ounces of perfectly illegal C-4 with a mile of det cord. Five pairs of combat boots. Two combat vests. Five prepared syringes of an animal anesthetic, guaranteed to put a man down in seconds.

And knives. He loved knives. He had a black titanium SOG Aegis, a Zaccara Bowie, a Garrison Fighting Knife, a Gerber Fast, a Balisong and a Kerambit.

So if the zombie apocalypse ever came? Mike was so prepared.

Chloe stood on the threshold of his door, looking at the ground. In these past six months in which Mike had been her shadow, she’d been in his place exactly twice, for two minutes each time. That was probably because there wasn’t much there.

He’d lived here almost five years and it wasn’t as welcoming as Chloe’s place a week after she moved into her apartment.

His place was an upscale bachelor pad with a place to sleep, a place to eat and a place to watch TV. That was it. In six months Chloe had made her small apartment up on the same floor as Harry’s apartment a little haven, the kind of place where you heaved a sigh of pleasure just as soon as you crossed the threshold. Everything there was soft and colorful and smelled great.

Maybe with Mike’s place you could heave a sigh of relief that you’d be safe against just about anything except an RPG launched from a boat on the ocean, but no points for softness or color coordination or even nice smells.

His Moldavan cleaning lady was a big believer in zapping germs with Lysol. No wimpy lemon polish for her. His place had no germs. They’d be too terrified of Alina to thrive.

No warmth either.

Once the door closed behind them, Chloe looked around carefully, as if she’d never seen the place before. Just as carefully not looking at him.

Mike should offer her…something. What? He had plenty of beer and chips. Full array of liquor, including every whisky known to man. Frozen fries and pizza. Frozen steaks. Nachos and cheese. Some chorizo.

Christ. No milk or tea. Come to think of it, no vegetables or fruit or even bread and jam, either. Nothing that could even remotely be considered comfort food or drink.

What was there for Chloe here? Nothing.

They looked at each other, then looked away.

Man, this was so not how Mike had planned it. Because plenty of nights, awake, with a massive hard-on and nowhere to go with it, he came up with a lot of different scenarios.

First, of course, he had to somehow get Harry to lift The Curse. He had no idea how that could work so in his day dreams and even night dreams, it just happened, like magic. Whoosh, curse gone.

Then, he’d charm her.

Except Mike had no fucking charm in him at all.

His day dreams didn’t go very far. Usually, he skipped the entire beginning with the complicated negotiations with Harry and just shot straight to imagining Chloe naked in his bed. That was always his starting point.

Now there was a real starting point and words just died in this throat.

“I’d, ah, offer tea, except I don’t have any.”