“Heard something like that before from you. I was hoping you’d say that.” Marty hoisted the heavy pack onto his shoulders. Connor was impressed with the Coyote backpack, an excellent choice for space, comfort, camouflage, and durability. Before their short return trip to the farmhouse they faced one another.
“What are you searching for, Marty?” asked Connor. The question was quiet and open-ended. Now was the time to pursue the man’s true reasons for his approach.
Marty gazed toward the farmhouse, taking a few seconds before answering. He straightened, sighed. “I guess I want to join up, Connor Mac. Go where you’re going. I don’t really care where that is.”
CHAPTER 2.12-Awake to Good News
“He was here? In this area?”
“Yes, colonel.”
“How long ago. And how’d you confirm his identity?”
The major admired the colonel’s ability to wake immediately. Unlike others, she didn’t wake in stages, but all at once. One moment she was asleep and the next she was awake, fully aware of her surroundings as if she had been awake for hours. Watching her now, she’d taken less than three seconds to exit her sleeping bag, dressed only in a white tank top and briefs that did little to hide her fine figure. Quickly, she dressed while the major turned away to view the men in the distance. He answered her inquiry, ignoring the flash image racing through his brain of his superior officer’s buxom body, tight buttocks and curvy hips.
“A group of men were smoked by Connor MacMillen when they tried to ambush him not too far from here.”
“They did what?”
“They tried to take Connor MacMillen in ambush and steal his pack. A man named Dave was in charge of their group. A skinny guy with attitude named Buzzy laid it all out for me. He said he knew he was Connor MacMillen because the man told them his name before he took all their stuff. Buzzy said that Connor MacMillen’s sniper killed a few men and, once he had control of the situation, he took what he wanted from their packs and left.”
“No kidding?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Wow. How’d this Connor MacMillen find himself caught up in an ambush?”
“Hard to say, ma’am. Sounds like it was more of an ambush of the ambush the more I think about how it went down.”
“You mean Colonel MacMillen walked into it on purpose?”
“I dunno. Maybe. He might’ve had some help at his back and the end result was him getting to take from the people that were trying to take from him. It’s has an edge that fits the man.”
“So he planned it? He did it on purpose?”
“Ma’am, he walked away without a scratch and this Buzzy guy thinks he was kinda like supernatural or something. Had a ‘magic’ about him the guy said.”
“Huh.”
“We have some work to do, but we’ve narrowed the search parameters quite a bit.”
“Nice job, major. Nice job.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
CHAPTER 2.13-Hope for the Best
“Here are the beans and corn,” said Connor, handing the open cans to Amanda.
“Terrific, Mac,” she said, taking the cans and sniffing the contents before dumping them into the simmering pot.
Connor stepped closer to Amanda and gently took her arm. “Are you okay?” he whispered.
“Yeah, Mac. It was a good move on your part, I guess. Now we know. A lot more, anyway.” They both glanced at Marty who was pointedly ignoring the conversation. He sat down at the table and retrieved his Colt, checking its status. He slipped it into his belt at the small of his back and felt complete once again. He opened his backpack and removed a plastic bag of venison and a dented canteen filled with water.
“Connor Mac? Amanda? You want to add this venison? It’s real fresh stuff.”
They turned to face him and Amanda answered. “I don’t think we need it, Marty. Why don’t we save it for dinner?”
“If you’re sure? I mean, I hope you’re not forgetting about Snuff.”
Amanda turned and smacked Connor hard on the shoulder. Connor grimaced, laughed, and turned to the confused Marty, jerking a thumb in Amanda’s direction. “Marty, I’d like you to meet the very beautiful and talented Snuff.”
Marty abruptly stood. “What? You mean, she’s him?”
“Well, Marty, he’s a she, but, yeah, Amanda is Snuff.”
Marty’s eyes glanced at the rifle leaning against the house. “I see,” he said. His opinion of Amanda was changing dramatically and he decided to accept the situation at face value. “Nice shooting the other day… Snuff.”
Amanda scooped the stew into the three bowls, handed one to Connor, and carried the other two to the table, placing one in front of Marty. “Thanks, Marty. I hope you like my cooking. It’s way better than Mac’s.”
“I agree,” Connor said, sitting down opposite Marty. Connor began eating immediately, shoveling food into his mouth as if he hadn’t eaten in days. Marty followed suit, but stopped after a few bites.
“Amanda, this is a great stew.”
“Thanks,” said Amanda.
“Would you prefer if I called you Snuff?”
Amanda growled in Connor’s direction. “No, Marty,” she answered testily, “I don’t want you to call me Snuff and if you do it again, I might shoot you where you sit.”
Marty glanced at Connor who was suppressing a grin. The nickname was obviously his doing and the twinkle in his eye invited Marty to play along if he wanted. “Sorry, Snuff—ahh… I mean, Amanda.”
Marty returned his attention to his food, withering beneath Amanda’s glare. The three enjoyed the stew for several moments, until Marty cleared his throat. He knew there would be ground rules explained later, but now was the time to get to know one another and he was curious about Amanda’s ability to shoot.
“I imagine that there’s an interesting story behind how good you shoot that rifle, Amanda.”
“Yeah, there is. Probably not as cool as your story, Marty.”
“Go on, Snuff,” chimed in Connor, “tell him about how your grandpa taught you.”
CHAPTER 2.14-Altering the Hunt
“Based on the projected timelines, Connor MacMillen may be thirty or forty miles east of Fort Wayne by now. Is that correct, major?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How do you propose to track him, now that the search grid’s refined?”
“I’m not sure, colonel.”
“Not sure?” she asked.
Nicole strolled into the small airplane hanger wearing fresh oversized fatigue bottoms and a pale green tee shirt. Her hair was combed back from her oval face and Major O’Malley noticed immediately that she wasn’t wearing a bra. She carried the sleeping CJ in her arms and the major had a sudden attack of jealousy for the way CJ was nestling quite comfortably against Nicole’s breasts.
“Not sure of what?” asked Nicole.
Colonel Starkes smiled at the sudden expansion of Major O’Malley’s chest.
“Hi, Nicole,” said the major, shyly. “Can we help you with something? Do you need anything?”
“Hi, Mike. Hi, Hannah. No, I don’t need anything—I just couldn’t sleep. I’m glad you’re safe, Mike. I heard you were back,” she said, smiling at Major O’Malley.
“Yeah,” he managed as an answer. He reddened with embarrassment as he realized that he had ignored his commanding officer’s question for the last several moments. “Colonel, I think—“
“I’m glad you’re safe, Mike,” said Nicole. Her silky voice suggested more than a passing concern for his welfare.
Colonel Starkes recognized that Major O’Malley was stuck in the uncomfortable position of having to respond to two women, one of which was his commanding officer. To ease his embarrassment, she decided to help him. “Please join us, Nicole. We were discussing how best to handle the new intelligence we’ve learned about Connor MacMillen.”