Chapter 11
Anton lay awake in his bed at the Ship Inn.
He’d had no sleep in two nights, and now it was noon in Mousehole. Which was seven a.m. in San Antonio, by which time he’d be finishing his morning workout and scouting around for breakfast. His body definitely didn’t know which way was up.
And his thoughts wouldn’t shut up.
It wasn’t the kind of problem he normally had. As a kid, Michelle would lose a night’s sleep, or several nights’ worth when she was worrying at something. He’d always felt that it was his brotherly duty to rub in the fact that it never happened to him.
But now, when exhaustion should have dragged him under long ago, his thoughts were swirling.
He’d tried pretending it was analyzing the mission.
It had shifted like slippery ice. One moment their assignment wa
