Rogue Soldier by Dana Marton Page B

fries into her mouth, scarfing them down, realizing all of a sudden how truly starved she’d been. Relief flooded her as the food hit her stomach.
    They had made it to Nome.
    Over the last couple of days of snowstorms and other misadventures, she hadn’t been always sure. But they were here in the city and they were alive and unharmed, save her feet, which needed some attention, not quite used to this much walking.
    She was licking clean the plastic container that had contained the apple pie when Mike emerged from the bathroom. His dark hair was still wet, glistening in the light, his face clean shaven. He wore gray thermal underwear that covered him from ankle to wrist. Snug was the operative word. Tessa glanced away, then back. Little of his body was left to theimagination. Not that she had to imagine it. It had always been there in its wonderful, muscled glory, living permanently in her memory.
    â€œThanks for dinner,” she said, and looked down at the empty containers, suddenly embarrassed. “It was for me, right?”
    â€œI don’t eat French fries,” he said with disdain.
    And that was true. Mike was more into health food when he had the choice, not that he wouldn’t eat any number of disgusting things when he was forced to it. The rattlesnake stew came to mind.
    â€œHow did you pay for all this?”
    â€œWestern Union.” He grinned. “You’ve gotta love them.”
    â€œYou’ve made contact.”
    He nodded. “More than one. The Colonel put me in touch with Shorty. He’s down by Fairbanks, working on this case. He’ll try to get over here by tomorrow morning. I filled him in. He promised to give me as much help as he can. If he can swindle a chopper for a couple of hours, he’ll provide me with backup.”
    And just like that, all the fuzzy gratitude over the ribs was gone in a moment, replaced by swift anger and a sense of betrayal. “ You are going to have backup?”
    â€œI thought you should stay here. I’ll arrange for a transport for you. The Colonel is going to help you with the CIA. I explained everything to him. He isnot going to let them get you caught up in some kind of witch hunt. Shorty is going to throw his weight behind us, too, although that might just anger Brady more. They can’t stand each other.”
    She could tell from his face just how pleased he was with his arrangements. “Michael Fergus McNair—” she came to her feet “—I’ve been sitting in a godforsaken trailer for the past eight months, taking readings. If you think you can cut me out of the action now, you have another think coming.”
    She picked up a bag and threw it at him. It felt so good, she threw another.
    â€œEasy now.” Mike ducked. “I’ve been worried you might react like this.”
    â€œBut you don’t give a rat’s ass, do you? You and your me-macho-man-must-protect-little-woman attitude.”
    The third bag hit the bathroom door an inch to the left of his head. And with that she was out of ammunition.
    â€œAs I was saying—” An infuriating little smirk played at the corner of his lips. “I was worried you might not take to that idea, which is why I asked for approval for you to join the mission, considering the likely case that you would follow me, anyway.”
    Her mouth hung open. Had he really done that?
    He made a show of carefully picking up thebags and their spilled contents and putting everything on the table.
    â€œDid I get it?” She held her breath.
    â€œI’m sorry. Did you get what?” He looked distracted as if he’d already forgotten what they were talking about.
    She threw a pillow at him. “Did I get permission?”
    â€œOh, that.” He started to shake his head as he picked up the pillow, but then a huge grin burst across his face. “You did.”
    She wanted to jump on the bed like a five-year-old. “Thank