He wasn’t paying any attention, though. He’d pushed back his hood and now set his goggles aside so he could pull on a radio headset.
She watched carefully, noting what buttons he pushed, which switches he flipped.
“Base, this is Boy Scout. Hostage secured. Will await your go. Boy Scout out.”
“That’s it?” she asked, frowning as he turned everything off with a push of his finger. She wanted to grab the radio and yell into it. To insist someone hurry the hell up and come to get them. She wanted to go home, dammit.
“That’s it,” he said.
No, she wanted to moan. She wanted a shower and warm clothes. A bowlful of hot fudge. Her own bed, popcorn, to hug her brother.
“Where are we?” she whispered, more than ready to hear him say the icy bowels of hell.
“Alaska. North Slope,” he told her as h
