“According to Decker, they just bought another one.” Irish walked out of the cabin without a word.
“Cope says he wasn’t always like that,” murmured Ali as the three of us watched the door close behind him. “He sees every death of every agent as his own personal failure.”
There was no point in my commenting that he shouldn’t feel that way. We all knew that. He probably did as well, but guilt was the kind of thing that crept in and took hold despite logic or reason.
Ali’s phone vibrated, and she turned it over to look at the screen. “Oh, he’s here already.”
“Cope?” I asked.
“He just pulled through the gates.”
A few minutes later, we saw headlights. Buck stood, walked over to the door, and opened it. “Long day?” he said when Cope walked in looking as haggard as I’d ever seen him.
“You should’ve spent the night,” said Ali, standing to hug her husband.
“I don’t like being away from you any more than I have to.”
Buck’s gaze met mine, and we both smiled. I wondered if he was thinking the same thing I was—that now I knew how Cope and Ali felt. I was so used to spending every minute of the day with Buck, just the idea of us being apart made my heart hurt.
“Is there anything we need to talk about tonight? Or should we regroup in the morning?” I asked.
“Just a couple of things,” said Cope. “First, I met with Money and my father, who’s approved emergency funding for this mission.”
As the head of the Senate Intelligence Committee, Cope’s father had that authority. I couldn’t help but wonder what other kinds of missions had been funded through the years that maybe shouldn’t have been. Perhaps even the mysterious Operation Argead.
“The only other thing is to tell you that Smoke Torcher is on his way to France, where Casper is already undercover at Interpol.”
“What’s her role?”
“Administrative assistant to all three members of the executive committee. Primarily to Kim Ha-joon, though.”
Kim was the only member of the current executive committee we’d been unable to tie to Kerr.
“How’s Irish?” Cope asked. His question caught me off guard even though Buck, Ali, and I had just been talking about the man.
“The same as he always is,” answered Buck.
Further catching me off guard, Cope put his hand on the small of Ali’s back and led her back to the table. I hadn’t expected them to stick around, given it was almost ten.
“He wasn’t always that way,” said Cope, pulling out a chair for Ali before sitting beside her and reiterating what she’d said earlier. “His time in prison changed him.”
“How could it not?”
“You’re right, Stella. How could it not?”
Ali reached over and rubbed her husband’s back. “You do the same thing he does. You both carry this mission like a gauntlet, which I completely understand.”
Cope looked at her adoringly. “I am luckier than Irish is. I have you to take my mind off of it.”
Ali had a soft shoulder for her husband to rest his head. She also had the maturity and life experience to know when Cope needed her.
I thought about the conversation Buck and I had had about his sister. She was twenty-one years old and, as far as I could tell, had never lived anywhere other than this ranch. I now understood why Buck had discounted what was happening between Flynn and Irish. At best, it was a romantic fling. At worst, she was in way over her head.
“Stella?” I heard Buck say.
I raised my head and looked at the three people seated at the table with me. “Yes?”
“If there’s nothing else, Cope and Ali are going to head to their cabin for the night.”