“He’s going to kill you,” Gwen said when she knew Tate was out of earshot.
“Better that than killing himself. He may not know it, but he’s got a death wish. We can only hope this works or I’ll be looking for a new operative to replace him sooner than later.”
“And neither of us wants that.”
* * * *
The plane settled on the runway, late the next morning. Tate got his bags, thanked the pilot for a smooth flight, then headed across the tarmac to the terminal where he’d pick up his rental car.
It was around one when he pulled up to the gate at the training compound. The guard came out to greet him, asking for his ID, which Tate handed to him.
“You’re late for the wedding, and in the wrong place,” the guard told him, giving back Tate’s ID.
“No problem, since that’s not why I’m here. I’m replacing them while they’re gone.”
The guard eyed him, grinning. “Emmet, maybe. Not sure you’ll pass as Vicki.”
“Very funny.” Tate did smile however. “Is anyone at the house to let me in?”