The Fallen: A Derek Stillwater Thriller (32 page)

Derek blinked. “That’s, um, interesting.”

“They were doing research into biological weapons at the Center for Genetic Engineering and Biotechnology laboratory, you know.”

Derek took a drink. “Yes, I know.”

She cocked her head. “I know you know. You disappeared from the country shortly after you broke in.”

“Um—”

Irina placed her fingertips over her mouth and laughed, then pointed toward Cuba. “I liked Cuba. Very warm. Great beaches. Not like Moscow at all.”

Somewhat relieved to get off the subject of his classified adventures in Cuba, he grinned. “I believe it. Moscow isn’t known for its white sand beaches.” He took a sip of margarita. “What is Moscow known for?”

She laughed. “Vodka, opera, ballet, and corrupt bureaucracy.”

“Here’s to Cuba then.” He raised his glass and she clinked it with her own. Her gaze wandered the blue horizon. “I wonder what they’ll do.”

He knew who she was talking about. The remaining Fallen Angels, Coffee’s people who Vice President Newman ordered released. The Coast Guard and the Navy had recaptured six of The Fallen Angels. Three were believed dead when they ditched into the Gulf of Mexico when their helicopter was shot down. That left twelve who were still missing. “I have no idea,” Derek said. “Hopefully they’ll die of boredom somewhere. I hope I never hear from them again.”

It was a hope; not an expectation. He didn’t believe the world had heard the end of The Fallen Angels, although now that their leader was dead, perhaps they would go about their business being arms merchants or mercenaries.

Irina brought him back to the present by leaning against him. It was a very effective way of getting his attention. All that firm tanned skin. “Let’s not talk about such things,” she said. “Let’s live today. Now.”

He smiled and took a sip of his drink. He set his glass down and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her and let, for the moment, his worries about the future slip away. It was a beautiful day. The sun was in the sky, the water was calm, and he was in the company of a gorgeous woman.

The devil may very well have his day. But not today.

I would like to acknowledge the continued support and assistance of Leanne Terry, Ian Terry, and Sean Terry; my agent Irene Kraas; my team at Oceanview Publishing, Pat Gussin, Bob Gussin, Susan Greger, and all those seen and unseen, Mary Adele Bogdon, John Cheesman, George Foster, Sandy Greger, Joe Hall, Susan Hayes, Maryglenn McCombs, Cheryl Melnick, and Gayle Treadwell; Scott Schafer for background on helicopters, and Eric Glick for introducing me; Allison Scott at The Broadmoor in Colorado Springs, Colorado; and finally, Naida Harrington, Carolyn Ann Killea, and Joan Miller for pointing me toward better Spanish.