The Gender Fall (The Gender Game #5)(50)

I nodded. “Exactly.”

She swallowed hard. “All right,” she said. “Take me though your plan.”



Hours later, Owen and I had finished loading the crate that held the drone into the back of our vehicle. Violet stood at the foot of the porch, her left hand on her hip. The crate was heavy, but not impossible for two men to lift.

The sun had set, and even the light of dusk was fading. It was time. I shut the door and turned to Violet. She quirked up the corners of her lips encouragingly, but I could see the longing in her eyes. “You okay with this?” I asked.

Her smile became a bit less strained. “I have to be,” she admitted ruefully. “I just… I wish I was going with you.”

I rested my hands on her shoulders. “I know how frustrating it is. I had to watch you and Owen run off to defuse bombs while I was flat on my back in my hospital bed.”

“That’s true,” she admitted, blowing out a breath. “Well, it might be a good thing I’m not going anyway, given my track record lately.”

“What do you mean?”

She grinned impishly, her eyes sparkling. “If I go, things might explode.”

I fought back a laugh and dropped a chaste kiss onto her forehead. Her eyes fluttered closed, and her hands went to my sides. “Be careful,” she breathed.

“I promise. Besides, if things go wrong, I can always use Owen as a human shield.”

“That’s only if I don’t use you as one first,” Owen replied as he threw a duffle bag in the back.

“If either of you does that, I’ll skin the other alive,” growled Violet.

I let her go and stared down at her. The joking had helped chase most of the shadows out of her eyes, but some still lingered. I was torn between wanting to comfort her further and the need to get going and focus on the mission. Violet lightly pushed me toward the car. “Go,” she urged. “I’ve got your back.”

Placing one more kiss on her forehead, I nodded and left, climbing into the driver’s side. I threw the vehicle into gear, took one last look at Violet—standing wearily, but on her own, in front of the farmhouse, her cap pulled down over her forehead—and then took off. I turned my mind to the mission ahead, confident in her and my ability as a team, even with distance separating us.





20





Violet





The fingers of my left hand, save for my thumb, all rested inside four identical hollow metal tubes, which tapered at the bottom until they connected to wires that jutted out of the remote control. The device itself was about as wide as my forearm, as thick as the palm of my hand, and as long as my foot—probably about eight inches or so. Hard black plastic encased the device, and several buttons and dials were within reach of my thumb. The rest of the surface was filled with a screen, and I peered at it intently as I carefully manipulated my fingers.

In response, the camera angle shifted until it was pointed at a small window. A smile grew on my face as I raised my right hand, cast and all, and waved at the drone I could just see, a flicker in the dark, through the thin glass. Caught by the drone’s front-mounted camera, my actions were mirrored on the screen in real time. The drone’s design was sleek, not entirely unlike a heloship on a much smaller scale—about three feet in length and two feet in width. It stood a foot and a half when set on the ground, and was painted a matte black. The conical nose sloped back wider into the first set of wings, branches with propellers set in them at an eight-inch distance. The wings drew back in at a right angle, ending as they connected to the rectangular body. Another set of wings with inset propellers sat behind the first, probably eight to twelve inches away. It looked like an “H”, but with the connecting line in the middle jutting out farther on either side.

I lowered my hand and used my left thumb to click one of the dials, changing the camera to the one mounted on the drone’s belly. I then flipped a switch, activating night vision. Immediately the screen glowed a neon green, and I could see the ground just below where the drone was hovering.

I used my index and middle finger to pull the craft up and away from the window, while my ring finger and pinky controlled the turn. Once it had spun in a tidy circle, I relaxed my smallest digits and used my index to press it forward, while my middle finger controlled the height. I flew a slow loop around our camp beside the road to the farmhouse, over the tents, noting the placement of our guards and facilities.

The drone was remarkable. Its engines were whisper-soft, and the controls were sensitive to miniscule movements, yet somehow fairly intuitive. Piloting required a certain amount of dexterity, but remained mostly user-friendly, especially since the sensitivity of the controls could be adjusted. I smiled as I thought of Thomas’ demonstration earlier that evening, which had resulted in the drone getting lodged in a tree, clicking angrily.

It had been two hours since Viggo and Owen had departed, and while I knew I should have been resting, I had instead taken the time to practice my flying with one of the spare drones from the barn. I wanted to make sure I had a complete understanding of all the controls and features. It was as compulsive a need to me as checking a gun for ammunition or cracking my neck before a fistfight.

Besides, there were too many unknowns on this mission to risk Viggo and Owen’s lives with my inexperience with the equipment. Not that anyone was an expert on drones right now, of course, but that didn’t give me license to relax. I was too edgy to rest anyway. Watching Viggo leave today had been difficult, and even though I was definitely part of the mission, it wasn’t the same as being physically there with them. On the other hand, the moment wasn’t always what it was cracked up to be—the tension seemed to exist no matter which end I was on. This tension was actually almost worse, because if anything went wrong, I was literally too far away to do anything about it. I was certain Thomas felt the opposite, while Ms. Dale just rolled with the punches one way or the other.