“The team will handle it.”
“Right, the team,” she said, “that nameless team I don’t know anything about.”
“And hopefully you never will. Because, if we have to bring in the team again,” he said, “it means that there are more problems.”
“I’m fine to leave them nameless,” she said immediately.
He grinned at her, then looked at Jerricho and said, “I’ll go out first.”
“Rendezvous is in one hour and forty minutes,” he reminded him.
“We’ll be there. See you on board.” And, with that, he held out a hand and said, “Come on, my dear.”
“Oh, don’t tell me,” she said. “Are we husband and wife?”
“We don’t have any rings for that,” he said, with a grin, “but we’re partnered up anyway.”
She chuckled, tucked her arm into his elbow, and, with more confidence than she actually felt, headed to the front door with him. They disappeared out into the early morning streets. She smiled, lifted her face, and said, “It’s amazing just what freedom can do for your soul.”
“We’re not meant to be locked up,” he said seriously. “Nothing about that is good for any of us.”
Outside, Diesel walked casually, his hand holding hers, tucked up against his body, talking to her in a calm voice, as they moved through the streets in the early hour. The traffic was just starting to pick up. He had no doubt that cameras were all around, but he wore a hat, and so did she, even though that would pinpoint them by looking a little odd. He was also counting on it blurring their features for at least a little bit. As they walked across the street, she asked, “How much farther?”
“We’re taking a roundabout way,” he said, “so it’s a little bit yet.”
“Well, that’s good to know,” she said with a laugh. “I was afraid this was the way that you always walk.”
“Nope,” he said with a gentle smile.
She beamed up at him. “Did I say thank you for the rescue?”
“Many times. If you’re going to do it again, how about you thank me when we’re out of here,” he said drily.
“Yeah, good point,” she said, her smile falling away.
He was sorry about that, but it was important that everybody stayed focused. They weren’t on holiday right now, and they were still in grave danger.
“Did you guys figure out how we’re getting out of here?” she asked, looking around.
“Absolutely, and it’ll be a method that surprises you.”
“I don’t care how we get out,” she said. “A plane would be great though. Fast and simple.”
“There’s nothing fast and simple about this. You’re not in any rush to get back to the US, are you?”
“Well, yes,” she said. “I want to get back to work, but, more than that, I’ll go spend some time visiting my father.”
“I like the sound of that,” he said. “Just what does your dad do?”
“Now? Nothing,” she said with a laugh. “He’s retired, and it’s a good thing too. He was getting burned out. Long ago, after Mother died, he just needed to have a break at the cabin, handed down to each generation in our family. And once he retired and ended up permanently at the cabin, our old famous fishing-hole cabin, I think he just never wanted to get back out into the real world.”
“He lived in the real world long enough,” he said, “and found out that it was shitty at times. You can’t blame him for wanting to stay someplace that makes him happy.”
She looked at him in surprise. “That’s very true. He dedicated a lot of his life to research, medical research. I certainly don’t begrudge him any of his decisions,” she said. “It’s just been a challenge.”
“Of course, and you miss him.”
“I do, and sometimes I bury myself in my own work too long and too hard,” she said. “Going to Wisconsin to visit Dad would be a welcome break.”
“And a much-needed stress relief,” he said. “Do you like fishing?”
“You see? I like fishing,” she said, “but my dad is addicted to fishing.”
At that, he burst out laughing. “One of those guys up at five a.m. to go out and catch the early birds, by any chance?”
“Up at five a.m., out on the water by five-fifteen a.m. He’ll take a thermos of coffee, sit there for a few hours, come home, might fuss around the house for a little bit, but then he’ll go back out again, depending on what day, the weather, maybe for an hour, maybe for a few hours.”
“I sure hope he likes to eat fish,” Diesel said. He led her down the boardwalk toward the docks.
“He does like to eat fish, and he eats a fairly simple diet. He’ll have trout and fried potatoes for breakfast, and he’ll have cold trout on a slice of bread for lunch, and, depending on the day, he’ll have grilled trout and maybe some barbecued veggies for dinner.”
He looked down at her and said, “Are you ready for a full diet of fish?”
She wrinkled up her nose at him. “I like to fish as much as the next person. I just want to eat three meals a day of a more diverse menu.”
“Lots of fishermen don’t actually like to eat the stuff,” he said. “It’s all about the sport.”
“That was my mother’s doing. She said, if he would be bringing it home, he would be eating it, or she wouldn’t have anything to do with it.”
“Smart woman,” he said.
“She didn’t like to see waste, refused to let him take home anything that wasn’t the right size because she said that the fish all needed an extra shot at life to get bigger. Yet the rules were just guidelines anyway, he would tell her, but she would continue her argument. In that case, then you make sure you toss back anything that wasn’t at least the guideline level because he didn’t need that fish. And, if he was the one having so much fun, he should do catch and release.”
“And does he?”
“Lots of times,
