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and then returned for more this past spring, he hadn’t
been sure he had the strength left to deal with it. Both times, Oz was the one
to help him—and now that issue was literally dead and buried.
    And
Dev needed to get back and deal with the most pressing issue, the one that had
been weighing on his mind heavily—the weather machine that was still in Itor’s
hands. Although, if his calculations were correct, Wyatt would be ready to take
it down.
    Still,
he never expected things to happen that easily, and he had a strong sense of
dread that this time he was right.
    "HALEY,
WE HAVE all the forecast models you asked for." Jeremy Bondy, ACRO’s
hydrometeorologist, stood in Haley Begnaud’s office doorway. Nervous energy had
him bouncing on his toes, his shaggy red hair sweeping into his eyes.
    "Thank
you," Haley said. "Great work." Better than great, considering
that just an hour ago she’d burst into the weather lab’s workstation and
shouted out a list of demands that had ended with "I need it yesterday.
Move it!"
    "Your
husband and Mr. O’Malley are here."
    "That
was fast." She grabbed her laptop and various charts and hurried through
the weather station, where several meteorologists worked on the
state-of-the-art equipment she’d brought in since taking over as station chief
a year ago.
    "Are
you going to let us in on what’s going on?" Melissa Abel, her
climatologist, asked as Haley breezed by.
    "As
soon as I can."
    Which
probably meant that she’d be telling everyone about the weather machine the
moment the meeting ended. She’d been studying weather patterns for months,
trying to determine how many of the machines might exist, all the while hoping
the transmissions from Wyatt would help. She knew he’d been sent on a recon
mission only—until last week, when she’d finally concluded that the machine
sitting on the Atlantic oil facility was probably the only one in operation.
Now his assignment was to destroy.
    But
he might have been sent too late.
    She
entered the briefing room, where Remy and Dev waited at the twelve-person oval
table. She barely glanced at Dev; she hadn’t seen him in months and rumor had
it that he’d regained his sight, and she didn’t want to stare. Remy, though…him
she stared at plenty. After nearly a year of marriage, she still drooled over her
dark-haired, blue-eyed husband when he wore his black BDUs.
    Well,
she drooled no matter what he wore—or didn’t wear. But the BDUs gave him an
even more commanding presence, which set her libido on fire—it was crazy,
considering that when she’d met him she’d hated military men. Now she sometimes
asked him to wear his uniform at home. Maybe tonight…
    "I
guess this means you broke the code." Dev leaned back in his chair and
folded his hands over his abs.
    Snapping
out of her lust, she pulled an Atlantic map down from its roller on the wall.
"It wasn’t that difficult. Your cryptographers were thinking like secret
agents, not meteorologists. It was modified synoptic code. How did Wyatt get it
anyway?"
    Haley
was one of the few people who knew that Wyatt was alive and well, and while she
had no idea why the deception was so critical, she did know that he had somehow
transmitted a code he’d come across a couple of weeks ago while on the oil
platform.
    "I
don’t know how he got it. What does it mean?"
    Haley
spread out the charts she brought with her—hurricane predictions, forecast
models and climate data. "Remy, remember when you asked me why we’ve had
such a quiet hurricane season?"
    He
nodded. "Itor could have pounded us. Why haven’t they?"
    "I
couldn’t answer that until today. See, I’ve been watching every tiny
disturbance that popped up in the Pacific, the Atlantic and the Gulf of Mexico.
Some of the storm development contained weather machine signatures, easy to
spot now that I know what I’m looking for. Those storms were bizarre in their
behavior, almost like Itor was playing around. The conclusion I came to