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  Yvonne was innocent in this, and she needed Daniel to restore the missing piece of her heart. He hoped Daniel would contact his mother and reconnect with her. This debacle was entirely his own fault—he’d caused so much sorrow for his whole family, even his daughter Becca. He had whisked Daniel away and denied her a relationship with her older brother.

  Only three when Sara died, Becca only remembered Sara through the few fragments of memories family members shared with her. Daniel and Becca should’ve bonded like Daniel and Sara had … but he took Danny away from her, and so they didn’t. His living children hardly know each other. He wanted very much for Daniel and Becca to establish a closer relationship as adults.

  William raked his fingers through his hair. Damned psychologists and their recommendations. Hindsight was always twenty-twenty. Moving Daniel to Special Forces Arctic Training Base in the Yukon had been the wrong thing to do—wrong for so many reasons. SFATB Yukon cut Danny off from his family and friends. Isolated Daniel too much, and it exposed him to abuse. God, why must Danny endure so much?

  Tomorrow he needed to call his brother Erik to find out if he arranged leave for all the boys yet. Daniel needed the family’s support. William hoped Daniel would rekindle the close relationships he’d once had with his male cousins. Until Daniel moved to the Yukon base, Scott, Adam, and Jeff often spent time with him even though Daniel was years younger than them. Perhaps Daniel would connect with Zach and Kyle, too.

  William wondered if his brothers and the rest of the family would ever forgive him for what he’d allowed to happen to Daniel. Forgiveness. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes to stave off tears.

  I need so much forgiveness. So much of this lies at my feet. If only I’d heeded the advice of everyone close to me—waited to train Daniel until he was older. If only I had chosen a different course of action when the photos showed up. If only I didn’t assume Daniel chose to be in the field at Christmas thinking he wanted to be promoted faster. If only I recognized my son isn’t me.

  The path William had gone, being in the field constantly and ignoring downtime, ensured he got maximum exposure and furthered his career. His father, Brigadier General Arthur Broderick, wanted him to excel and began his training young, but it meshed completely with his own desires. As far back as he could remember all he wanted to be was a general.

  His desire to climb ranks was one reason he married later than his brothers. His brothers discovered the value of a real woman much earlier than he did. Mark barely turned nineteen when he married Kimberly. Erik married Ann at eighteen. Ryan beat them all—he married Connie when both were only sixteen.

  However, he didn’t marry Yvonne until he turned twenty-nine—the best decision he ever made. Frankly, William wondered sometimes what Yvonne Loving had seen in him. They are so different. She is all light and joy while he is darker and somber.

  Yvonne brought so much happiness and love into his life. She is his sun, moon, and stars. Sadly, in return, he caused Yvonne so much heartache. He didn’t deserve her, yet he wouldn’t survive without her. Yvonne carried his heart and soul in her hands. Without Yvonne, his life wouldn’t be worth living—he would be a shell of a man.

  The image of Yvonne’s sweet smiling face filled his mind. As William drifted to sleep, he silently spoke to wife, “Help me. Help Danny—keep hope, keep the light burning. Danny may return to us.”

  Grand Citadel Hotel – Main Suite – 2:00 a.m.

  A ringing sound coming from his laptop drew Constable Dante Baldovino out of his sleep. Wearily, Loki rubbed his eyes and raked the lock of raven hair from of his eyes as he sat up. He set several searches running before he sat down on the couch to wait for Lexa. He didn’t recall falling asleep.

  The blanket which slid off him made him smile. Lexa is so sweet and a fantastic friend. Who would’ve ever thought he would have a girl for one of his best friends? Not him. Loki tended to be awkward with girls—women—he corrected. Girls, he is fine with—Bram’s little Emilie was the best, and so were her sisters.

  Blinking the sleep out of his chestnut brown eyes, Loki reflected on the evidence amassing against the major. Plouffe manipulated so many people and arranged Dan’s non-stop deployments. The major covered up the behavior of the unit which left Dan in the field. There might be a link between Murphy and Plouffe. They mapped out Dan’s injuries and found many happened when Dan was with Murphy’s unit, even before Murphy became a sergeant.

  But so far, they came up empty on any connection between Plouffe and Pletcher, or the stolen mail. Though they knew Plouffe caused many things, the general couldn’t explain to them why Plouffe would target him and Dan aside from dressing down Plouffe a few times. The general didn’t like the major, and perhaps it was mutual—but the team figured there must be more of a reason than simple dislike.

  What started this whole mess? He and Bransworth, the Canadian Security Intelligence Service liaison, were trying to answer that question with their searches. His computer pinged again alerting him another search finished. Loki focused his tired eyes on the screen and read the results twice. “Holy smokes! The general’s gonna rage when I tell him this.”

  “Tell him what?” Bram asked with a groggy voice.

  Loki jumped nearly falling off the couch. “Don’t do that! You scared the crap outta me. Didn’t know anyone was still awake.”

  Amused, Bram said, “I could say the same thing. Your yell woke me from a dead sleep. So, what’s up?”

  “Sorry to wake you,” Loki mumbled as he nervously glanced first to Bram then at his monitor. “Well Bransworth, the CSIS liaison, and I are running several broad searches, and one of them found something that’s bad, real bad. Maybe I should wake the general.”

  Always pragmatic, Bram suggested, “If it’s something urgent which he needs to deal with now, wake him. However, if it’s only more bad news, like this whole affair, let him sleep. We can deal with it later. I also suggest you get some sleep. We need to be sharp and clear-headed at the memorial later.”

  Loki considered what Bram said. What he found was awful, yet the general could do nothing about it at the moment. Tomorrow would be soon enough. “Sorry again. Okay. It can wait. Would rather only have to say it once anyway and Dan also needs to hear this. I don’t want to wake him. Dan really needs the rest. He looked like the walking dead tonight.” His eyelids closed halfway as he eyed the soft pillow. “I guess I need some more rest myself.”

  Bram chuckled at the description of Dan. “It’s okay, no need to apologize. And yeah, Dan does. Though, personally, I think he resembled Frankenstein more. Just glad to see him up and somewhat functional after all this. I doubt I could do that.” He noticed the blanket over him and said, “Thanks for the comforter.”

  Loki grinned as he picked up his blanket. “Wasn’t me. Probably Lexa.”

  “Goodnight.” Bram yawned.

  “Night.” Loki caught the yawn. He saved the results and sent a copy to Bransworth who was compiling the evidence. Covering up with the soft blanket he settled his head on the throw pillow to get a few more hours of sleep.

  Grand Citadel Hotel – Room 666 – 5:00 a.m.

  Awoken by a sound, Major Nigel Plouffe realized his phone was ringing. He looked at the number and didn’t recognize it, but he answered anyway wondering who the hell was calling him at this hour.

  “Hello,” he said in a sleepy voice as a yawn escaped.

  “I’m two hours out and will be there as requested.”

  “Ah, good, good. The funeral starts at three this afternoon. I expect you to be in place well before that.”

  “Not a problem. I procured the rounds you requested.”

  “Great. I’m glad you were able to acquire those. Difficult to get but I expect it’ll be needed. The ammo will do the job if the toy soldier is wearing a vest.” Plouffe smirked thinking about armor-piercing rounds—no miraculous survival with those.

  “I expect half payment up front and the remainder once completed. Do you wan
t a headshot or a heart shot? My preference is a headshot, but if you want center mass, tell me.”

  Plouffe snorted. “I don’t care, your choice, but a headshot ensures the toy soldier won’t rise again. I transferred half already. You can check.”

  “I assume you used the encryption. I don’t want this traced. I like my day job. It affords me the opportunity to engage in my hobby undetected. If you mess that up for me, you might find yourself in my scope.”

  Anger infused itself into Plouffe’s voice as he stated, “No, it isn’t traceable! I’m not a fucking idiot. No one will ever find it.”

  “So, I’m not primary. What if Murphy misses?”

  “Correct, you are backup only. If Murphy screws up, you take the shot. And if they don’t kill him in retaliation, you are to take him out, too. No loose ends. Understood?”

  “If I do this and you fail to pay no place will be safe for you. Our relationship ends with this job. We have a gentlemen’s agreement … we remain silent on each other’s activities. Understood?”

  After yawning, Plouffe replied, “Yes, I know the consequences if I fail to pay and understand no further contact will occur between us after this. We’ll be done. And just like you … understand I have other resources. If you ever open your mouth, no place will be safe for you either.”

  Plouffe closed the burner phone and thought about Merrill. That guy loved his hobby too much. Strange little man, always so efficient and unassuming—no one would ever guess by the looks of him that he was a cold-blooded killer in his spare time. Though, his job allows him to travel the world and made an excellent cover for his activities.

  Hell, he had only found out by accident when he overheard a snippet of conversation one day in Kandahar and put the pieces together. Nigel used the information to his advantage and blackmailed the corporal into covering things up for years. He covered up things so well no one ever suspected a thing. The man was efficient with paperwork and deadly with a rifle.

  Plouffe yawned once again. Today would be an enjoyable day. The Brodericks would begin to fall today, one-by-one … until the world is rid of damned Brodericks.

  A wicked expression covered his face as he remembered what today was—how fitting, how fitting—two on the same day. They would share the same death day—just like their birthday. Plouffe drifted back to sleep with sweet dreams of knocking over his toy soldier for the final time and watching the general fall apart in grief over the death of his son, especially on today of all days—it was just perfect.

  Coffee with An Alien

  3

  July 19

  Grand Citadel Hotel – Main Suite – 5:15 a.m.

  Dan opened the bedroom door and found the main suite virtually empty. Bram and Loki slept on the couches. The general and Heather sat at the table with steaming cups of coffee, both reading a newspaper. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee woke him, and he wanted some before Patch might deny him. Still groggy, he needed the caffeine boost to face the day.

  Damn, everything hurts, he thought as he shuffled towards the table. A full body massage would loosen me up. A small grin appeared on his face. Would be marvelous if Sexy Lexie massaged me.

  Gingerly continuing forward, Dan’s muscles protested every step. He considered going back to bed, but coffee was worth the discomfort. Keep moving, you can do this, you’ve felt worse and still managed. Each step an effort, he kept walking because he needed to prove he was up to going to the funeral.

  Heather spotted Dan first and gave him a happy smile. “He walks.” She detected his cautious gait. “Barely. Can I get you anything?”

  “Coffee would be great,” Dan said as he stiffly and awkwardly lowered himself into a chair at the table.

  Heather stood and went to the coffee pot. “Cream, sugar?” She shouldn’t let him drink coffee, though if he was anything like his father, coffee was an absolute must. One cup wouldn’t hurt him.

  “No, black please.”

  She returned with the coffee and set the steaming mug in front of him. “What’s your level? Need any meds?”

  Basto’s fists should be considered lethal weapons. Dan still hurt so much, but he never admitted pain in front of the general. A sigh escaped as he forced himself to answer honestly. “Six or seven. Meds would take the edge off.”

  “Be back in a jiffy,” Heather said and started towards the bedroom.

  Focused on admitting pain in front of the general, Dan gave no thought to what form his relief would take. He peeked at the general to determine if his father was disgusted or disappointed he couldn’t handle a few assorted injuries with no pain relief. Confused by the concern he read in the general’s eyes, Dan absently picked up his coffee mug with his sprained left hand.

  He lifted his coffee a few inches before his left wrist screamed at him and he dropped the cup. The contents spilled into his lap. Jerking back, Dan reacted swiftly, but not fast enough to stop the hot liquid from splashing onto his thighs.

  “Shit, merde, stront, der’mo, stercore, merda, scheisse, bok, alqaraf, fhalbh,” came spewing loudly from his mouth as the discomfort from moving so fast and the hot liquid registered. The string of foreign words continued to flow from his mouth as he ended up on his butt on the floor. The chair he had been sitting in, lay next to him on its side.

  Heather rushed for towels from the bathroom. Jarred out of their sleep by Dan’s yells, Bram and Loki sat up suddenly. They spied Dan and the overturned chair on the floor, and coffee dripping off the table.

  William’s eyes danced with amusement as he leaned back and snickered. He couldn’t help himself, he witnessed the whole thing. The expression on Daniel’s face was too comical, and his cussing in multiple languages … priceless.

  As Heather hurriedly returned, she stopped short hearing the general’s laughter. Why is he laughing at Dan?

  Loki started to rise to help Dan when Bram placed a restraining arm on him and shook his head no. His glare at Bram screamed, ‘Dan needs me’ as he tried to shake Bram off and rise to help Dan.

  Bram held tight and put his index finger to his mouth. “Shhh, wait.” He released Loki’s arm when his teammate started to sit back down.

  Attention turned back to Dan, Loki recognized the confusion on Dan’s face as he stared up at the chuckling general. Loki sat back down and waited.

  William leisurely folded and put down the newspaper. With a small grin and raised eyebrows, William said, “Stellar command of the word shit in French, Dutch, Russian, Latin, Italian, German, Turkish, Arabic, and I do believe Gaelic. Not quite the Queen’s English, Daniel but impressive.”

  The general’s reaction caused Dan to stare up at him with narrowed eyes studying him. The response did not match what he experienced growing up. Where the hell is the instant and firm rebuke for using foul language? Maybe Loki’s aliens abducted the general and put a replica in his place.

  Rising, William walked to where Daniel sat on the floor. He squatted down and asked, “Want some help up, son?”

  Dan still stared in disbelief.

  With the injuries to Daniel’s right arm and left wrist, assisting him up required lifting him from behind and under the arms. William stood and shifted position, slipped his hands under his son’s arms, and helped him to stand gradually. He took most of the weight steadying his son before letting go.

  William pulled out another chair and helped Daniel sit. He took the towels from Heather, who froze in place when she returned—disconcerted by the awkward interaction. He dabbed at the soaked sweatpants with one towel. Next, he wiped up the spilled coffee and folded and placed the second towel in Daniel’s lap.

  After he had picked up the overturned chair, William took Daniel’s cup and went to the coffee pot. He refilled the cup half-way with coffee, dropped in several ice cubes, and placed it in front of his son’s right hand. Then he resumed his seat. “Morning, Daniel. If my memory is correct, you prefer iced coffee in the summer,” he said like nothing was out of the ordinary.

  Dan’s e
yes never left the general and plainly asked, ‘Who the hell are you?’ But cautiously he said out loud, “Good morning, sir. Yes, I do.”

  “I ordered breakfast to be delivered at zero seven hundred when the others will join us. But if you need anything now, I can call down,” William said in a conversational tone—following one of Bram’s suggestion.

  Loki studied Bram wondering what caused the small smile.

  “They need time,” Bram quietly said seeing Loki’s questioning mien before he lay down and pulled his blanket over his head to grab a little more rest.

  Not wanting to interrupt the reconnecting taking place between father and son, Loki followed Bram’s lead and lay back down. As he lay there, a small pang of longing hit Loki. He wished his own father still lived—he would’ve liked a chance to meet him.

  Even with all Ma’s love, Loki yearned for the love of his real dad. His ex-stepfather had been a sorry excuse for a father. He sometimes thought they would have been better off if Ma didn’t remarry, but then his little sister Sonia wouldn’t be here. Having his younger sister in his life more than outweighed all the crud he had put up with from his ex-stepfather as he grew up.

  Heather went to the bedroom and waited a few moments for Dan and the general to settle back in. She recalled Patch said the oral pain medication would be here this morning, but since Dan was at level six—before he fell and spilled hot coffee on his lap—she needed to give Dan what was available. She returned with the pre-filled syringe. “Oral meds won’t be here until later. Hope you don’t mind needles …” Heather showed Dan the syringe.

  Dan went rigid—every single muscle contracted tightly and locked into place. Beads of sweat popped out, and he blanched—all color left his face. His eyes honed in on the needle. Though every muscle remained immovable, Dan shook. His stomach rolled, and bile rose—he was gonna hurl.