“I love you,” she whispered back.
Her hands grazed his chest. She kissed him deeper— “Mom?” A soft voice came from the hallway.
Socked feet padded toward them.
Hannah stepped back, her eyes big and wide and bottomless.
“Can’t sleep,” Milo said, his voice groggy. “Another bad dream.”
With great effort, Liam tore his gaze from Hannah. Milo glanced between them, blinking blearily, tousled black curls standing up all over his head. He wore an oversized men’s shirt that fell to his knees—Noah’s.
He hesitated, a crease between his brows. Like a deer crouched at the edge of the trees, tentative and cautious, unsure if it was safe to approach.
Liam smiled. “Come on over.”
He shuffled into the living room, rubbing his eyes. Hannah opened her arms to him. Liam made room, and the boy squeezed himself between their bodies, wrapped his arms around Hannah’s middle, and buried his face against her stomach.
Over his head, she flashed Liam a sheepish smile, mouthing I’m sorry.
She had nothing to apologize for.
This was family. Parenthood. Love in all its messiness.
“Can you sing me ‘Blackbird’ again?” Milo mumbled into her shirt. “That always helps.”
“Of course, honey.” She took Milo’s hand and led him back toward his bedroom.
“To be continued,” Liam said.
Hannah looked back over her shoulder, rewarding him with a smile that outshone the sun.
50
Liam
Day One Hundred and Fourteen
Liam couldn’t sleep.
It was 2200 hours. These days, everyone rose with the sunrise, ready to work. After a long day, most folks were in bed by nine and slept like the dead.
Liam had never slept well, his dreams haunted by exploding mortar shells and the screams of his fallen brothers. He didn’t sleep tonight, either.
In the house, everyone else slept—Hannah and Charlotte, Milo and Quinn.
Liam made his way outside, carbine slung over his shoulder. Ghost hobbled to the doorway but refused to leave the house. The dog loved the cold but despised water.
Instinctively, Liam scanned the backyard, checking high and low, listening for anything unusual. There was nothing.
The rain had stopped, the wind dissipating. The night was still and dark but for faint starlight filtering through a scrim of clouds.
In the back yard, a jumble of rain-beaded oak rounds were strewn across the wet grass beside the chopping block which stood to the left of the woodshed. A large splitting maul was embedded deep in the center of the large stump.
He wanted to chop firewood for Hannah, but his injured side still kept him from doing so much of what he wanted. Besides, Evelyn would kill him.
From inside his jacket pocket, his radio crackled to life. “Alpha One, come in.”
His heart rate accelerated. It wasn’t Luther’s scheduled checkin time. Liam hadn’t heard from him since the Black Hawk attack. He hadn’t expected to. It was too risky.
On high alert, he withdrew the radio from his jacket pocket with his left hand; his right hand remained free to reach for his Glock or the long gun if needed.
“Echo Two,” Liam said. “This is Alpha One.”
“I had to sneak from the hotel and steal a bike to get within range,” Luther’s rapid breaths whooshed through the handheld’s speaker. “Almost got caught three times. Nearly pissed my pants.”
“What’s happening? What’s the General’s next play?”
“The men are irate about the helo.” Luther paused, panting. “Liam, they’re going to send in a ground force attack. This is it. The big one.”
Liam’s heart stopped beating. “When?”
“They’re planning to attack at dawn.”
It didn’t matter how much he’d been expecting it. The news struck him like a blow to the solar plexus.
“They’re bringing in everything. The armored vehicles and the M2s. They have mortars and artillery, Liam. He’s sending in a simultaneous tactical team to get the baby. After he obtains the target, the General wants the town destroyed. He is unconcerned with civilian casualties.”
Liam cursed. “You’re certain?”
“Absolutely. And he’s put a bounty on your head. He claims you have valuable intel on a domestic terrorism cell, but it’s obvious that he wants to kill you himself. The soldier who brings you in alive receives an honorable discharge, along with a month of rations for his or her family.”
Liam closed his eyes. A dark dread unfurled in his chest. Even with the goodies they’d stolen from their raid, they wouldn’t be able to repel such a force. They would be overrun.
“There’s more.”
“Out with it.”
“I found some wine from the Tabor Hill Winery in Stevensville for Baxter to give to the General. I saved another bottle to share with him. He was grateful. Got him drunk enough to loosen his tongue a little. Liam, the General and Poe are on the same side.”
“What?”
“The General siphoned off supplies and resources for Poe all along. He gave him access to National Guard armories, caches to raid, the whole thing. That’s how Poe got so powerful so fast.”
A cold, crystalized anger shot through him. He clenched his fist and resisted the urge to punch the woodpile until his knuckles bloodied.
“General Sinclair has gone rogue. His orders aren’t coming from the governor. At least not the ones pertaining to Fall Creek.”
Liam’s mind whirred, cycling through the ramifications, how he could use it to save his town.
Would the National Guard still attack if the General was no longer at the helm?
Was Liam willing to bet everything on the answer?
Luther said, “All I know is, the orders are coming from him, not from Lansing.”
Liam was tempted to ask if Luther could get close enough to the General to assassinate him, but he checked himself. Such questions conveyed intent and strategy, which he shouldn’t reveal to an informant.