Chapter Twelve
Linc's first instinct had been to grab for the post-it. Though his mind was prone to fog, he knew better than to grab where the parcel of paper had landed. His mind might be muddled, but his manners were intact. So he'd kept his hands off Scout, which meant he could do nothing when she retrieved the missive from the top of her blouse.
"Please give that here," he said.
But it was too late. She'd already seen the writing on the paper. Linc had no trouble remembering those words. He'd only written the note a few minutes ago when he'd been communing with the general.
Linc had taken the time to explain to his former commander that he wasn't fit for the mission the General had sent him on. Even though it was a job Linc desperately wanted.
Holding Scout to him a moment ago had
