Wired - Douglas E. Richards [129]
Desh was impressed with the simplicity but effectiveness of the plan. This would instantly legitimize Metzger’s appropriation of the helicopter from Bragg and the carnage at the mansion. “That should do it,” he said. “You’ll probably earn a medal.” Having a member of the team capable of subverting the most secure computer systems in the world did have its advantages.
“Kira,” said the major, “you and David stay here for a few minutes. The colonel and I will make certain we didn’t miss any hostiles and start the chopper.”
Connelly looked puzzled. “Shouldn’t we all leave right now?”
“They’ve been through a lot,” explained Metzger. “Let’s give them a few minutes alone.”
The colonel still looked confused, but didn’t argue.
Desh knew that Metzger was still in the thrall of Kira’s treatment, which meant he was undoubtedly focusing on ridiculously complex problems at the same time his avatar personality was speaking with them. And he must have also read their body language like a neon sign, picking up on their mutual infatuation and Desh’s desire to have a few minutes alone with Kira. He would have to remember to thank the major later.
Metzger turned back toward Desh as he and Connelly reached the front door. “You’re welcome,” he said knowingly, and then, guns drawn, both men cautiously exited the mansion.
The corners of Desh’s mouth turned up into a wry smile in response to Metzger’s words, but his smile quickly vanished as he made a visual inspection of Kira’s arm. “Are you all right?” he asked softly.
She smiled, almost bashfully. “Never better,” she said simply.
Desh paused awkwardly. “Kira,” he began. “About this whole being in love thing—” He looked at her uncertainly. “I feel a bit silly. I never believed it could happen so suddenly.”
She nodded. “Me either.”
“We’ve been through hell together,” he continued, “and we’ve bared our souls to each other. We know more about each other than couples who have been together for months.” He sighed. “What we don’t know is how we’ll be together when the pressure is off. So I was thinking—even if it might seem a bit ridiculous at this point in our relationship—maybe we should go on an old-fashioned, boring first date. No commandoes or adrenaline allowed.”
“A first date, huh,” said Kira, considering. “Not a bad idea.” She grinned and then added playfully, “But I should warn you, I don’t kiss until the third date.”
Desh laughed. “In that case,” he said, “I’m prepared to call our time together at Montag’s Gourmet Pizza a date.” He raised his eyebrows. “And you did take me to a motel and tie me to the headboard of a bed. Does that count?”
“Nope. I’m afraid not. Normally it would, but given that I brought you there in the trunk of a car, I have to disqualify it.”
“Okay, then. What about the nature hike we shared together?”
“We weren’t alone.”
“Damn,” said Desh. “Your definition of a date is awfully picky. You also took me to your place for the night, but since we weren’t alone then, either, I suppose you won’t count it.” Desh shook his head. “If I had known,” he added wryly, “I would have ditched the major and the colonel at the baseball stadium when we landed.”
Kira laughed and leaned closer to him, well within an inescapable gravity well that was impossible for either of them to resist, even had they wanted to. They kissed hungrily, and only the sure knowledge that they wouldn’t remain alone for long in what had become a war zone enabled them to, finally, separate.
Kira sighed dreamily. “I’ll tell you what,” she whispered with a contented smile. “I’m prepared to count our entire time together as the equivalent of two dates.”
“Two?” whispered a euphoric Desh, who felt as though he surely must be floating. “I thought you didn’t kiss ‘till the third.”
“That was just a sample,” she said.
“An incredibly effective one,” he said