Tyler, Donovan, and their random collection of new-found fellow rebels were concluding their informal meeting when the half-open door to the conference room was slammed inward against the wall.
"Who's in charge of this dipshit?" Angie barked, dragging Steve in by his leather neck thong, her gun still jammed into his neck.
Of the seven men seated at the far end of the polished conference table, only Donovan and Tyler didn't look as if they wished there were weapons within reach.
"Jesus, man, you were supposed to be guarding the place!" Fred shouted.
"She jumped me," Steve began to sputter, until Angie gave him a shake, making him gag.
"What a lying sack. He copped a feel instead of a gun," she corrected and smacked him lightly in the head with the side of the gun barrel. "Didn't ya, James Bond?"
Mike nodded a greeting toward Angie and deadpanned to Steve, "See you met the little woman."
In spite of his embarrassment (and the lingering certainty that he would be shot at any moment) Steve rasped, "She's your wife?"
"Do I look suicidal?" Mike snorted and jerked a thumb toward Tyler. "He's the lucky guy."
Tyler had finally cracked a smile. "Gentlemen allow me to introduce Angela Harper Tyler." He glanced at his watch. "You made good time," he told her.
"No thanks to you. Now is somebody gonna answer my question before I pop his head off?" She tightened the thong just a hair, and Steve's eyes bulged a little.
"Okay, okay, I'll admit I'm more or less in charge of his lame ass," Fred announced. Steve's look of relief evaporated as Fred continued, "I'll give you five bucks to shoot him."
"Hah!" Angie laughed. "Honey, I'll do it for free." She pressed the muzzle against the back of Steve's head for emphasis. The truth was Angie was beginning to enjoy the charade, and was betting herself whether or not the faux hot-shot in her hands was going to wet his pants before she was finished.
"Let him go, Angel," Tyler instructed patiently, like a parent telling his kid to stop pulling the cat's tail. "We need all the warm bodies we can get, even if he's only good for a human shield."
"Oh, fine." Angie abruptly released her captive and kneed him in the butt, knocking him to his knees. Suddenly exhausted, she fell into one of the cushy conference chairs and slapped her gun on the table, staring at the odd collection of men. "So is anyone gonna tell me what's going on?"
"Not that I wish we were operating in some rat hole, but his whole Mary Celeste scene is kinda creepy. I don't care how suddenly the 'previous owners' took off, it's just... weird. And what you said down there... those guys are doing the reconnaissance? And you're just 'consulting' until we have more solid information? That's even weirder."
Angie followed Ham into their very elegant suite, entirely disoriented. They'd just paid a visit to the well-stocked hotel kitchen where she'd wolfed down a ham sandwich and some very strong coffee that barely touched the edge of her exhaustion. Now standing in the middle of the kind of hotel room that she had become occasionally familiar with since marrying Tyler, it still felt surreal and more than a little unsettling.
Tyler laughed a little. "We're just lucky we got here before the Wild Boys trashed the place. Don't worry, whatever the lizards are up to this time, they're not likely to look here for any new rebel cells. And make no mistake, those punks know the landscape here better than anyone. Let them do the leg work and we'll do the brain work."
She gave up. "So can I assume there's hot water too?" She felt disgusting and was sure she smelled the same.
"Yup. Even after my shower."
Angie made straight for the open bathroom door but Tyler stepped in her way. "C'mere, will ya? I spent two days looking for you. I wasn't sure if..." He didn't finish the thought. When he reached for her, she dodged away.
"No, I'm filthy and I smell like a dead horse."
"Shut up and c'mere." This time he caught her and clamped her hard in his arms. "I don't give a goddamn what you smell like." He loosened his grip enough so he could look her in the eye. "You smell alive and that's good enough for me." He kissed her as hard as he was holding her, then let her go. "Okay, hit the showers. Whatever you need, it's right there."
"Wrong," she corrected and wiped a smudge of her dirt from his face. "You're right here." Then she flung herself into his arms again. "Oh God I'm so glad you found me, I didn't know what..."
"Yeah well we both know now." He backed up a step and offered a wink. "Still breathing, still here. Now go clean up and we'll be three for three."
When Angie emerged from her long, hot, heavenly shower she found Ham stretched out face down on the huge bed. She sat down next to him and ran a hand down his back then bent to kiss her favorite spot just behind his ear. "You're as worn out as I am."
"I am of the recent opinion," he intoned in a muffled voice, "that I am getting way too old for this shit." He rolled onto his back and stared up at her, tracing fingers down her cheek, and continuing down the collar of her plush hotel robe. "You clean up real nice."
In his eyes, behind the weary knowledge of the battles yet to come, Angie could see something deeper. The knowledge of what had been lost without warning, something Ham Tyler had been well versed in since long before they met, long before the first invasion. This time was more concrete than any War Philosophy.
"I'm so sorry about Reno," Angie told him, not even trying to keep her voice even. "I wish I knew what to do."
He took her hand and held her fingers to his lips for a minute. "You're doing fine."
"You know what I mean, some way to help it..." The pain, the empty feeling... and yeah ,the fear. "Tell me what will help..."
His expression flattened a little. "What helped when you lost Maggie?" he asked.
Angie recoiled as if he'd taken a swing at her. "Nothing," she said finally, in a voice as wasted and dry as the dirt she'd just washed away.
He sat up then, to keep her from getting up and walking away. He felt like a world class asshole but it had to be said, or she'd be driving herself crazy trying to help him with something that all the love she had in her couldn't begin to help. "I'm sorry, that was a rotten way to say it. But think, Angel. I know you remember. You remember how it was. You know what finally helped, it's the only thing that could, and I couldn't do it for you. Just like you can't do it for me now."
Work. Life. Everything they had left. Yeah, she remembered. But she didn't want to. Still, she let him draw her down next to him.
"Get some sleep," he murmured against her temple in that velvet-dark, intimate voice he saved just for her. "Gooder's got a handle on things. They're not gonna need us for awhile."
Angie sighed, nodding silently, and relaxed against him. She knew he was right. The only antidote to this kind of loss was to get back to everything else you hadn't lost. But she didn't want to think about it, and she especially didn't want to remember.
A/N: The Mary Celeste (from Wikipedia): "The ship is famous for having been discovered on 5 December 1872 in the Atlantic Ocean, unmanned and apparently abandoned (the one lifeboat was missing, along with its crew of seven), although the weather was fine and her crew had been experienced and capable seamen."