Time of Fate (Wealth of Time Series #6) Andre Gonzalez (best books for 20 year olds .TXT) 📖

far as Chris knows, and emailing will only give him an opportunity to figure out what we’re up to. He could have us hacked, for all we know. Not likely, but why risk it? We’re only 125 miles away from him, and less than twenty-fours until you make your move. It’s best to let outside factors handle themselves. If there are any problems, they’ll still be there when you get back.”

“Or they won’t,” Martin said with a grin, suggesting that Chris’s death was indeed a magic wand that could heal all matters.

Alina returned a nod. “Now you’re getting it.”

“You’re good. I see every day why I picked the right person.”

“Stop the flattery, Commander. It makes you look weak,” she said with a wink, standing up from her seat. “I’m gonna grab a glass of wine and hope it puts me to sleep. You need another drink to cap off the night?”

Martin raised his glass, still half full. “I’m good, Lieutenant. Thanks anyway.”

“Have a good night, and make sure to get some sleep. Tomorrow will be the longest day of your life, so brace yourself.”

She walked off, stopping to chat with a few team members as she crossed the cabin toward the back bar.

Martin closed his laptop, having enough drama from the few minutes he had it open, and leaned back in his chair to finish his drink. As sleep crept closer, the weight of his destiny ballooned in his mind. When the sun rose in the morning there would be no looking back. Plans were being formed and would be put in place, Martin the only one on the continent able to execute them.

Do it for Izzy.

Chapter 18

Chris had slipped into bed wondering if his body would actually fall asleep. With his blood now swimming in Colin’s body, it was possible his return to an immortal man would make a gradual comeback, but it could take a day or two.

He fell asleep around eleven o’clock and woke up in a panic at four in the morning, jumping out of bed, paranoid that someone had broken into his cabin. The door remained locked, the air still and silent. Even before his powers as the Keeper of Time, Chris had a unique sense of the world around him, feeling eyes watching him or someone hiding in the corner of a room. No such alarms went off in his head at the moment, but his gut wrenched in a way that suggested danger was lurking.

“That’s the point,” Chris said to his empty cabin.

It was a small space, roughly 150 square feet with a twin bed tucked along one wall, a gas stove in the opposite corner, and his stockpile of non-perishable cans of food and bottles of water in the other. The cabin had no electricity or running water, a truly simple way of life he had hoped to avoid. Outside behind the cabin were a dozen propane tanks for the stove and several bundles of firewood should he need to build a campfire.

Chris didn’t actually know how to cook food. He never did it when he was married, always ate out during his early days as a Revolter, and no longer had a need for food once becoming Keeper. He understood that canned food could be eaten directly, but might taste better after being heated up. The thought of turning on the stove didn’t interest him, at least not this early in the day. For breakfast he grabbed a can of green beans, popped off the lid and started drinking the juice and vegetables straight from the can.

Chris gagged at first, the flavor bitter and earthy. He needed to head into town today to place a phone call, and considered stopping by the grocery store for eggs and bread, maybe even a box of cereal. He couldn’t possibly start every day like this, and hoped the injection into Colin would kick in and make this all a moot point. The bottles of water had never looked so appealing, so he grabbed one from the mountain of cases and chugged it to rid the green bean flavor from his mouth. A huge belch worked its way up from his rumbling stomach, and Chris let it out with a satisfied grin, one of his favorite bodily functions that had vanished over the years.

For the first time since waking up after the accidental nap in his Idaho office, he had finally satisfied his hunger and was ready for the morning ahead. While he dozed last night, Chris thought about how to best approach the next two weeks and decided it was in his best interest to create as much chaos as possible around the continent. The more distractions the Road Runners had to tend to, the more likely he’d remain undisturbed in his hideout. However, he still expected a fight at some point. His eyes dashed to the duffel bag he had left near the front door, temporarily worried that it had somehow walked out during the night. All the guns and ammunition he needed were in that bag, plenty to fend off an attack. He had small slots installed around the cabin walls, spaced about two feet apart, and only three inches wide. They were meant to provide just enough room for him to stick his pistol through and shoot at chest level to whoever might be outside. The cabin had only two windows with the drapes currently drawn, but he’d open those as soon as danger arrived, ready to blast any poor soul who dared approach his property.

Chris grabbed his cell phone from the stovetop, the battery at 80% thanks to having charged it during the flight to Angle Inlet. He’d head into town, make his calls, then power off the phone for two weeks until he decided it was safe to step outside and walk back to town for an update on the situation. Fortunately, he only needed to place one call to authorize what was known as Mission Lifesaver, setting