Buried Flames (16 page)

“Are your scars the reason you hide out at your farm?”

Brenna cringed at how her query sounded. She thought back to earlier this morning—had it really been less than twenty-four hours—and how she’d revealed that the townsfolk pitied him. Even though there was truth to her words, it had been wrong of her to tell him. And now here she was basically calling him a coward when that adjective was so far from the truth. He’d given a part of himself up to protect the freedom of this country and his fellow Marines.

“You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” Mason muttered, pulling her closer to him if that were even possible. Sam snuggled into her as much as his makeshift harness allowed. Brenna soaked in the warmth from both sides and finally rested her head back against Mason’s shoulder. “Rest. You’ll need your strength.”

Brenna accepted that Mason wasn’t going to answer her question, but she didn’t like it. She was going to fall asleep if he didn’t keep talking to her. She didn’t want to put more strain on Mason nor release her hold on Sam. The stillness of their surroundings had a peaceful quality to it, almost beckoning a person to just give in to its desire of suffocation. Those thoughts alone managed to keep her awake and another hour passed before she could sense the tension building in Mason’s large frame.

“Ace just took us off the main road.”

Mason sat up a little straighter, causing Brenna to do the same. She couldn’t see a thing in the darkness. There were no vehicles out this way and very little in the way of landmarks to mark their passage. Where was Ace taking them?

“Where is he going?”

Sam immediately tried to sit up, catching the sudden awareness in the body language of his master. Brenna put her arm around the middle of his body to secure him in place, but it wasn’t easy. All three of them were looking for anything that stood out on the new landscape of accumulated ash.

“Be ready for anything,” Mason warned softly, releasing one of the reins to pull his weapon around from his back. “Fairfax is either leading us to some type of shelter…or directly into a shitstorm.”

M
ason looked around
the most stable lodging they’d had since this journey began. Fairfax had led them to a small commercial vineyard that appeared to have been damned successful. The buildings were built from river rock and mortar. Heavy oak cross beams outlined the exposed underside of a strong slate tile roof and supported the overhead superstructure. Ideally, the building was most likely built to insulate the huge oak casks that were stacked everywhere to age the wine the operation produced.

The thing of it was…Mason now recognized the fact that Fairfax knew the area extremely well. This place hadn’t been chosen at random. He’d known exactly where they were and that meant he currently had the upper hand. That wasn’t acceptable in his playbook.

“I want your bedroll next to mine,” Mason said low enough that his voice didn’t carry to where Fairfax was currently unpacking his gear. He still appeared to be in pain but he pulled his weight by disappearing around the corner of a large cask and reappearing minutes later with oats and a bale of fresh hay for the horses. The hay bale came in handy in multiple ways, making Sergeant and Major quite happy, as they were presently secure in their own area between the rows of gigantic fifteen foot tall barrels lying on their sides. Each of them could have held a thousand gallons of fermenting grapes. Mason had already cleaned out their makeshift masks and had them drying off to the side. “Go ahead and setup in one of the offices near the entrance while I use the wash basin in the back. Keep your weapons handy. Never leave your rifle out of your reach.”

Mason snagged his satchel, along with the bag containing the HF radio, as he made his way to the other end of the large stone building. He methodically turned on the faucet. They still had water pressure here and he wondered how long the stream of liquid would remain clear. It didn’t really matter considering he was only using it to cover what he was about to do. He leaned down and carefully opened the waterproofed canvas bag.

Mason unpacked the Hughes PRC-104. He pulled off the battery pack and blew on the connector from habit while turning it around to line up the other connectors. He attached the long wire dipole field expedient antenna lead, trailing the coaxial lead out the rear exit of the warehouse and attaching it to the center connector on the dipole antenna elements strung between two trees. He then adjusted the insulators to the half wavelength he needed and used a bare copper lead to establish a ground plane reflector underneath the antenna to produce the best Near Vertical Incidence Skywave (NVIS) for propagation of the radio frequency (RF) signal he could mange under the circumstances.

“Nebraska Echo Five Sierra calling home. Copy. Over.”

“Read Five by Five, Echo Five Sierra. Are you making progress?”

“Roger. We are on task. Lima Sierra, you might have hostiles at your POS. Use extreme caution. Possible blackhats closing your POS. Mission unknown.” Mav took his finger off of the PTT switch, clutching the receiver in the palm of his hand. He rested his forehead against his knuckles, wishing he could say more but knowing it might not be in their best interests. He finally brought the receiver close to his mouth. “Did you copy my last transmission? Over.”

“Roger. Copy all. Out.”

Mason quickly repacked everything, locked the rear door by sliding home the deadbolt, and then cleaned off the ash from his body as fast as he could. He was counting on a man like Fairfax to take notice of how long he was away from Brenna. He would observe and store away any perceived vulnerabilities for future use. Mason didn’t bother to change clothes, but he did wash his face, arms and hands as best he could. He even rinsed the residue out of his hair, using his fingers to brush away any remaining water.

Brenna had used the basin before him while Mason had brushed down the horses. Sam hadn’t left her side, making him more comfortable with having her out of eyeshot. Although Fairfax appeared quite comfortable here as if he had worked the past two summers here, Mason wasn’t so sure someone wasn’t still on the property up at the main house. He thought about checking out the area more thoroughly, but that would mean leaving Brenna by herself with Fairfax—and that wasn’t happening. He’d just have to be prepared for anything while barricading the regular entrances against intruders. The overhead doors would provide enough warning if someone tried to use them, but he’d hitched the chains on them anyway as a precaution.

“All good?” Mason asked quietly, setting his things down beside Brenna’s in the first office next to the main entrance. She was watching Fairfax as he established himself in the second office which sat at a forty-five degree angle to theirs, but it was more than evident she wouldn’t be awake for long now that he was back. Her eyes were bloodshot and she had dark blemishes underneath her lashes. He was exhausted too, but he wasn’t so sure he would get a lot of rest this time around. “Did you try to eat something?”

“I had a protein bar and some wine. It’s not half bad,” Brenna whispered with a half-smile before gesturing toward Fairfax, who appeared comfortable enough. “How did he know about this place?”

“I’m not sure,” Mason replied, sitting down and using the side of the desk Brenna had moved out of the way to unroll their bedrolls for back support. His muscles, especially on his left side, were tightly knotted and making damn sure he knew it. He did his best to hide the level of pain from Brenna as he reached into his jacket pocket and removed two pain pills from his supply. He washed them down with a slug of water. She had enough to worry about and he sure as hell didn’t need any more of her pity. “Now get some sleep.”

“I wish you’d quit doing that.” Brenna shot him a cross look, but Mason wasn’t sure what he’d done this time to gain her annoyance. He raised an eyebrow in question, which she could clearly see from the dim light shining from his flashlight. “Being nice one minute and then barking orders the next.”

“I’m never nice. Get used to it.”

Mason didn’t need a watch to tell him to wake up at a certain time. He’d always had the ability to mentally say two hours and he’d open his eyes literally two hours later. He did so now, lacing his hands over his abdomen and getting as comfortable as he could considering the man on the other side of two flimsy office doors could decide to take them out at a moment’s notice. He closed his eyes and memorized the sounds and smells around him, taking everything in so he’d know the second there was a change. He wasn’t expecting the soft fabric against his hand.

“What the…”

Mason’s voice faded when he opened his eyes to see that Brenna had somehow located a blanket in this building and was using it as a pillow…on him. She’d tossed it over his jeans, protecting her skin from the ash still embedded in the rough denim material. She didn’t say a word as she gently laid her head on his thigh, draping her arm across his other leg. She snuggled in as close as possible and he shot a glare Sam’s way, whose head was tilted in question as well. He could just join the club.

Mason hadn’t lied. He wasn’t nice. So why then wouldn’t Brenna take the hint and keep her distance? He’d already given her a brief synopsis of his time in the Corps. She’d seen his scars. She’d witnessed his anger issues, not truly realizing how much of the iceberg she was seeing. What more proof did she want that he wasn’t suitable to be…hell, he wasn’t sure what she wanted from him at all.

Mason had lifted his hands up the moment Brenna had burrowed against him and he wasn’t sure the appropriate place to put them. He shook his head at the predicament she’d put him in, but he could literally feel her muscles relaxing against him one at a time. She needed this sense of security. Her body required sleep and he wasn’t about to deprive her of that.

Brenna’s braid had caught between her shoulder and neck, so Mason hesitantly drew the bound strands over her shoulder so that the plait fell down her back. He’d forgotten how blonde she was, the sun having made it even lighter in color. The leftover residue dulled the brilliant hue, but that could easily be washed out when they finally reached the lodge and modern facilities.

“You can catch a few Z’s yourself,” Fairfax said low enough that his voice didn’t disturb Brenna. She’d already fallen asleep. “No one’s here.”

“And you would know that information…how?” Mason asked, taking his eyes off of Brenna to find Fairfax standing outside the office door leaning on the frame of his own. He’d definitely captured Mason’s attention. “A little enlightenment on your part might go a long way.”

“A friend of mine cleared out of here over a month ago, even listed the land for sale,” Fairfax offered, keeping most of his cards close to his chest.

Mason frowned at the implication, but the dots still weren’t connecting. Was Fairfax suggesting he knew about the impending eruption at Yellowstone? It was more than apparent he wasn’t going to give up any more intel than he had to. Fairfax finally settled down on his own bedroll, although not comfortably from the pained look upon his face. He then laid his right arm carefully over his eyes, blocking out the stark bright light of Mason’s flashlight. That was too damn bad, because Mason wasn’t about to trust someone that kept baiting the trap.

Brenna shifted ever so slightly, her warm body snug against his lower half. Mason was truly astounded at the trust she was placing in him. She didn’t know him anymore. He’d listed every goddamned reason too. He wasn’t cut out to be around civilians anymore, couldn’t she see that? Visiting Lost Summit on his annual vacations was manageable. He was with his team and they were family. The townsfolk were different, mostly because they gave him a wide berth and allowed him the freedom to be himself amongst friends up at the lodge. Would he still feel that way when their sanctuary was overrun with outsiders?

Mason hadn’t even realized he’d been rubbing the soft strands of Brenna’s braid in between his fingers, the natural desire deceptively embedded deep within him. He certainly hadn’t remained celibate, but the women he chose knew enough never to ask for more than a night or two. He liked it that way because the tension inside of him never seemed to ebb. He was a weapon of war and the war had started once again. He could shelve it for a brief moment in time, but it never lasted. Why then did the coiled ball inside of his chest seem a little lighter with her nearby?

*