Cloud Dust: RD-1 (R-D #1)(23)

"You have fifteen minutes."

*

My hopes were dashed that the Five would lose interest in my Krav Maga beatings. All five were back and watching as Rafe did the usual—showing me a move and then moving faster than I could in my attempt to employ the countermove.

"I suppose my strategy of wearing you out isn't working," I said, blinking up at him as he stood over my prone body. He threw back his head and laughed.

"How about a round or two with me?" Becker came off the bench and stretched while I peeled myself off the floor.

"Which one of us?" Rafe asked.

"You."

"Good. Corinne, go sit down."

I did, choosing a spot well away from the others. I had no desire to rub elbows with any of them.

In the next ten minutes, I learned that Rafe had been taking it easy on me. He beat the hell out of Becker, who barely had time to rise before Rafe put him down again. I wanted to cheer, but that might be considered bad taste. I did smile, though, once or twice.

*

"Good bread." Rafe had another thick slice.

"Thanks. I like it, too. Chicken and noodles are outstanding." I lifted a spoonful of noodles and ate them with a smile.

It's funny how politics make strange bedfellows, and mutual enemies forge friendships. It didn't matter how many times Becker might shove me in the mud—it was all worth it just to see Rafe put him in his place.

I loaded the dishwasher while Rafe put leftovers away. I almost felt like hugging him. I didn't. If we even touched, it would be all over the Mansion in five minutes. That's why we didn't discuss Becker's beating, either.

That stayed in the gym, where it belonged.

*

Notes—Colonel Hunter

"I thought you'd be interested in this." Shaw set his laptop in front of me. I listened and watched while a recording of Becker talking with Nick was displayed. He spoke about hitting Corinne to get information. At that moment, I wanted to teach him a lesson, but the Blacksmith had already done a good enough job.

"I hear Becker can barely move this morning," I said, attempting to hide the cheerfulness in my voice. "After Rafe handed his ass to him yesterday."

"Are you concerned at all that Rafe and Corinne seem to be getting along, now?"

"Why? I figure she sees the sense in it," I said. "He's growing on me, too."

"I think he and Corinne have things in common," Shaw said. "That may or may not be a good thing."

"Why do you say that?"

"I saw Safer this morning at breakfast. He thinks Rafe may have been the target in the explosion."

"Why? Has the pilot talked?"

"Not yet. If Rafe goes down, who knows what that could do to Corinne? Especially if she's beginning to see him as a friend."

"This is ridiculous. What evidence do we have that he was the target? Why not Corinne or me? James, perhaps?"

"Dalton Parrish?" Shaw quirked an eyebrow.

"That sounds more likely than the rest of us," I said. "You know Cutter has enemies everywhere."

"Then why not go directly after him?" Shaw asked.

"To make him sweat?"

"Colonel?" James appeared beside our coffee shop table.

"James?" He wouldn't have come if it weren't important.

"The pilot was found dead ten minutes ago. Hanged himself."

*

"There was no evidence he might be suicidal," Cutter stormed through the cafeteria where we'd called a quick meeting with Shaw and the handlers. I didn't say it and kept my expression neutral, but to me, it looked as if Cutter was blustering.

Shaw studied our new Director with interest. This was the first time the General had seen fit to come to the Mansion after taking the position, and it was after the pilot hanged himself with the belt they'd allowed him to keep.

I'd toyed with the idea of asking if Corinne might be allowed to visit the pilot, but discarded it. Now, I wish I'd gone ahead and asked. She might have been able to tell us something. That opportunity was now lost.

The worst part, perhaps, was that the pilot had a family who hadn't been notified that he was being held for questioning. The FBI was investigating them, too, and they didn't have a clue.

Cutter continued to bluster about the ongoing investigation, and that it would continue and he wouldn't rest until we got to the bottom of this. All the usual platitudes. The truth, however, was that I wouldn't be where I was if Corinne hadn't held all of us up.

Turning my head in Dalton Parrish's direction, I watched him instead of Cutter. He wore a frown as Cutter made promises he likely couldn't keep. Corinne had saved Parrish, too, and I think he knew that.

*

Corinne

"Here's his photograph. It's the best James could do." August handed the photograph of the dead pilot to me. I made a face as I studied his military picture. Rafe, who sat nearby with his handler, watched as I blew out a breath.

"He didn't want to. He was ordered to," I said, handing the photograph back to August.

"Corinne, you can't say that with any certainty."

"I can say it with certainty. You just can't believe it with certainty."

"Who paid him?" Rafe asked.