Free Angel Fever by L. A. Weatherly Page A

tone was pleading. “Fate. Life. You’re an amazing leader. And if you had it to do over again, you’d make the same choice, you know you would.”
    He’d never been less interested in hypotheticals. He’d screwed up – end of story. And, yeah, big comfort to know that if he had it to do over again, he’d
still
screw up.
    A long pause wrapped around them. There was the sound of birdsong and the faint ticking of the engine. “Should we call the others?” Willow suggested finally.
    Alex pinched the bridge of his nose and didn’t answer for a minute. “I can’t tell them this over the phone, Willow,” he said in a low voice. “I just can’t.”
    He hated the sympathy in her green eyes. Softly, she said, “All right, but we need to let them know we’re okay, at least. And that the next Wave has arrived.”
    “We will, but just—” He broke off and gripped her hand, not looking at her. “Just give me a minute.”
    How the hell was he supposed to tell the base this when they got back? Exactly what combination of words could he use to break the news to his team that their efforts had been for nothing and the world was doomed now…and all because they’d trusted him?
    After calling in, all Alex wanted to do was get away from this place – head for home and get the announcement over with. Willow shook her head. “We need to get some rest first.” He could see her own pained shock, her worry for him. “Neither of us has slept in over a day, Alex.”
    He started to argue; the thought of crashing the truck with Willow in it stopped him. He’d made enough cataclysmic mistakes already. He pulled the truck farther up the road, concealing them in a grove of trees.
    Though he was sure he wouldn’t be able to sleep, a bone-aching weariness claimed him once they’d spread out their sleeping bag in the back. He stripped down to his boxers and crawled thankfully into its soft haven, where he drifted off with Willow nestled against him.
    He awoke abruptly several hours later, unsure where he was. Then it came back in relentless detail. The truck’s windows were misty with condensation; he reached over and wiped one clean. Moonlit fields and a clear starlit sky. No sign of flying angels – those who weren’t staying nearby must have already moved on. Or were in their human forms now, merging seamlessly with the rest of the population.
    Except for their eyes. You could always tell an angel by its eyes.
    Alex took in the peaceful landscape, seeing instead a country full of Edens – a
world
full of them, for ever, because of what he’d done. Willow was curled asleep against his chest; he absently rubbed her shoulder as his thoughts pummelled him.
    But was there a chance Willow had been wrong?
    His hand stilled and stopped. His heart quickened despite itself. Not that he actually believed it – Willow was an excellent psychic. But come on, wasn’t it at least
possible
? Okay, so maybe the odds were only one in a million…yet that still meant there was a slim hope this wasn’t true.
    And if there was any hope at all, he had to know.
    Alex hit the display button on the sat phone. Almost midnight. The newly opened Golden Eden was about five miles away – he could jog there, check things out, and be back by two.
    Just having a plan was a relief. Alex eased his arm out from under Willow – she murmured and turned to her side. With a hasty groping in the darkness, he found his clothes and rifle. He slithered out of the sleeping bag and climbed silently to the front of the truck. He squeezed open the door.
    Cool night air sent goosebumps across his chest. Alex got out and guided the door shut behind him, pressing it hard so it would latch. He yanked on his jeans and T-shirt, then crouched down quickly to tie his sneakers. As he checked his rifle, moonlight glinted on the barrel.
    He could just see Willow through the window he’d wiped clear. He knew she’d be fine – no one would venture up this remote road after