Day two, and Rafe had not yet returned from his mysterious errand. Or even called.
Bastard. Even worse, Emma didn't know where he'd gone.
"I need to take off for a bit to find someone." Spoken two days ago as he'd poured them both a drink.
She'd swigged the sweet liquor, not grasping until later what the acrid aftertaste meant. She woke drooling on her pillow, Rafe gone, and not a word since.
He never did say whom he needed to find. But she had to wonder if it had anything to do with his "Aha!" moment, which had occurred as he played with his various artifacts. And she meant played.
Initially, the oddity of him collecting old hunks of metal baffled - Who cares about ancient junk? - yet as he'd dragged her into his obsession, she'd grown accustomed to the idea that she was sleeping with a galactic version of Indiana Jones.