8
“Can’t we just walk out?” Katrina waved past the canopy at the deserted airfield. Darkness had come and shrouded the only signs of what had happened today: bloodstains on the sun-bleached pavement and an abandoned Russian helicopter.
It was awkward, twisting in her seat to see Tomas’ lips with her NVGs. He said something that she couldn’t follow.
“What?”
Trust me, accompanied by one of his smiles. She’d learned about them. They were full of promises—ones that she hoped, no, that she knew he would keep. It made him impossible to argue with. She just wished that she could imagine his voice as anything other than harsh and cold, but it was all she’d ever heard from him.
She turned back in her seat and tightened the cross-shoulder harness.
“Why walk when you can fly?” She finally worke
