Cloud Rebel (R-D #3)(29)

More than one journalist recognized Winkler when he stepped out of his SUV; microphones appeared in hands immediately and all of them crowded about him.

"Was it a gas explosion?" One of them demanded.

"Everything in the community is electric," Winkler waved off the speculation with one hand. "A gas grill certainly couldn't cause that sort of devastation," he added. "I think this was done deliberately."

"By whom? One of your enemies?" Someone else asked.

"I haven't owned any property here or had any dealings with this community in more than twenty-five years," Winkler replied. "If they're after me, they're a bit slow on the uptake."

"Please, allow Mr. Winkler to pass," Rafe stepped in to act as Winkler's temporary bodyguard. The county sheriff, who'd been talking with local police and two FBI agents, began walking toward the yellow tape which flipped and bounced in the breeze off the gulf.

He recognized Winkler, too, as did the FBI. This meant we'd be let through, while the carrion-crow-minded-media would have to remain behind.

An FBI agent held the tape up so Winkler and his entourage could slip through. I could hear journalists shouting more questions at our backs. I considered a swift, heavy downpour over them—but that would require a bit of cloud manipulation over our heads. I decided against it.

Val chuckled beside me.

"We're pretty sure this was planned—the investigation has turned up evidence that a rocket launcher or some other weapon may have been used," the sheriff said as we walked toward the remnants of burned and blasted houses.

"We just can't determine the reason this community was targeted," one of the FBI agents added. "Nobody living here should have been on anyone's hit list."

"We need Matt Michaels here," Winkler said. "I have a theory—which has nothing to do with me, by the way—but I'd feel more comfortable explaining everything to him, first."

"He's on the way—flew out of D.C. an hour ago," the other agent said. "Probably be here in three hours, depending on the speed of the military jet he took. Scheduled to land at the Naval Air Station in Corpus."

Human methods of travel are so slow and mundane, Val sent.

I hear that, I agreed. Ever since I'd been able to fold space, it was my preferred means of travel.

At least the burned bodies of adults and children had already been removed—if that hadn't happened, I'd have been even more furious than I was as we studied the destruction caused by four Elemaiya.

I want to kill them, I sent to Val.

Dearest, can you find them—by Looking? I fear you cannot, he replied. I have already attempted it. They are hiding behind a Sirenali, now, I think. No idea how they managed to capture one, nevertheless, it is done. Perhaps one of the gods will assist us in our search, Val's words were enigmatic.

Then I hope he gets here soon, I grumped.

The gods appear in their own time, and not by any plan or desire of others, Val quoted.

I suppose that's in a Larentii book somewhere, I said.

Dearest, you have not had time to read all of them, yet. I'd just made him smile.

So a god is coming to save our asses? I went back to our original conversation.

Our asses, as you put it, do not need saving. Human asses, on the other hand, do.

Right. What about those ass-hats from Lyristolys? The other ones we can't find? My mental voice sounded petulant. That doesn't even include the clones and any drug survivors with less than stellar intentions.

We are assisting with those searches, and doing what we can to keep those about us alive and well. Far more than most Larentii are allowed or willing to do.

Hmmph.

Dearest, when we get back to the beach house, I hope you will allow me to take your mind off all this.

How do you propose to do that?

I shouldn't have asked, especially in that tone of mental disbelief. The wave of sexual desire that washed over me almost sent me to my knees. Val took my elbow to prevent that. Unfortunately, his touch only made the desire more acute. If I'd known what sort of sexual mojo a male Larentii possessed, I'd have kept my mental mouth shut.

Something wrong? Rafe's voice sounded in my head.

Nothing to see here, I grumped as Val sent another wave of desire in my direction.

What the hell was that? Rafe demanded.

You were mentally connected to Rinnelar when we ah, were being frisky, Val replied. I suspect you have an erection at this point.

None of your business, Rafe snapped.

That remains to be seen, Val snapped back.

You'll not be seeing, Rafe began before another wave of desire hit both of us. Rafe stopped still, looking as if someone had sucker-punched him in the gut.

Honey, please stop. I don't want to have a climax next to the FBI, I wheezed in mindspeech.

Very well. The moment I have you and Rafe to myself, Val said.

Rafe lifted an eyebrow but didn't comment. Perhaps he was feeling the effects of intense sexual arousal after more than a year without, just as I was.

"I'm sending images to Matt," Opal said, breaking up our mental foreplay. It was just as well, I tended to be noisy while having an orgasm.

"What did I miss?" Matt Michaels walked up. Well, somebody didn't take the time to finish his flight.

It's Mr. Foldy-Space Pants, I silently accused.