Survivalist - 23 - Call To Battle by Jerry Ahern Read Free Book Online Page A

peace. And he smiled at her. “What is it, Marie?”
    “I was getting a little nervous, Willy,” Marie Dreissling said with total candor. She had never been able to hide anything from him since the moment she met him, almost nine weeks ago. But it seemed to her that her life had not begun until that moment, that she was reborn.
    “Soon we will be moving, and then there will be no time for nervousness.” He rolled back the knit cuff of his sweater and his eyes turned down to look at his watch. “In one hour.” His voice was resonant, a deep, rich baritone, musical, but in no way anything but totally masculine. “So, that is very soon. In another fifteen minutes, we will have the final briefing, and after that the equipment checks, then move into the prelaunch sequence.”
    “Can we trust these Russian pirates, do you think, Willy?”
    “We require an insertion platform; the Russians will provide that. Afterward, we will require the Russians no longer. Do not worry about it.” He walked toward her. She stood, arms limp at her sides. His hand touched at her cheek and she shivered. “You had best prepare yourself, Marie.”
    “Yes, Willy.”
    He walked away and Marie stood there, the wind whipping her hair, molding her clothing against her, making her aware of every square centimeter of her body. Willy.
    Marie forced herself to breathe …
    “You’re a very good cook, Emma” John Rourke announced between forkfuls of potroast. And she looked very beautiful in the light of the candles which burned between them on the smallish table. It would have been presumptuous to mention that, so he didn’t. The music playing seemed to surround them. “Great stereo system.”
    “Stereo?”
    “Your sound system.”
    “Ohh, thanks.” He even liked the music. It was soft jazz of some kind, with a subtle Latin flavor. “More wine?” Emma asked.
    “No, never been much of a wine drinker,” Rourke told her. “Your brother’s a good man.”
    “Thanks for saving his life,” Emma said, smiling. Rourke felt slightly embarrassed. He hadn’t mentioned her brother in order to solicit a reaction like that. He’d just been making conversation. “Was the fight on the beach as tough as it looked on the news, John?”
    “I didn’t see the news.”
    “Looked like one hell of a fight.”
    “We encountered a more substantially sized force than we’d
    anticipated” Rourke said. He set down his fork and knife and leaned back. That was a wonderful meal.”
    “I made dessert.”
    Til try,” he smiled.
    “Apple pie.”
    Til force myself,” he smiled again. “Want vanilla ice cream on it?” “A la mode? Sure.” “A la mode?”
    Rourke laughed. “It means ‘of the fashion’ in French.” “Ohh. Do you speak a lot of foreign languages?” “Pretty good Russian, okay German, good Spanish. I’ve got a little Icelandic I picked up and I know Sign.” “Sign?”
    “Deaf-speak.” He moved his hands rapidly. “See?”
    “What did you say? I mean, nobody’s deaf these days with implants and everything.”
    “I was just illustrating what I meant,” Rourke said, taking his lighter and the package of German cigarettes from the table beside him. “Mind if I smoke?”
    “What did you say, John? With your hands, I mean?”
    Rourke asked, “Cigarette?”
    “Not just now. What did you say to me with your hands?”
    He inhaled smoke, exhaled. He focused his eyes on the cigarette’s glowing tip. “I said ‘You are pretty,’ but I was just giving you an example of Sign. I mean, you are pretty, but I-“
    “John Rourke. You’re quite a man.” She started to get up. She was standing before he was able to get her chair, but he stood.
    “What do you mean?”
    She walked around the table, leaned up and very quickly kissed him on the cheek. Til get your apple pie,” Emma Shaw almost whispered …
    Doring watched the faces in the semicircle all but surrounding him. The eyes set in those faces-bright, alert, eager and