Chapter Eight
The dawn's early light filtered through the bedroom window, waking Tate instantly, as though the bugler from his old boot camp barracks was blowing Reveille. Trained to be fully alert as soon as his eyes opened, he looked down at the woman in his arms and glanced hastily around the room to orient himself.
Careful not to wake her, he extricated himself from his sleeping woman’s limbs and climbed out of bed. He found his jeans, shirt, and the rest of his clothes in the living room and pulled them on. He hunted around for his cell phone and powered it on with an intricate code on the dial pad. It was no ordinary mobile phone.
Quietly, he slipped out the back door from the kitchen. His finger hit a contact name on the face, and he pressed the phone to his ear as it dialed thro
