“Bullcrap,” his new boss declared after witnessing one.
Potomac’s on-staff mental health counselor and physician had come up with a program for him. Turns out, his old partner and new boss had both been partially right. The headaches were inevitable, unless he avoided the trigger.
Since the trigger was the job-related stress of making high-pressure decisions in dangerous situations, prevention was out. Jake set up a stress management program for all the field agents and any other employees who wanted to take part. Omar learned to handle his stress—and the resulting headaches—through biofeedback, workouts, yoga, relaxation exercises, and meditation. The tools helped, and so did the camaraderie. He no longer had to hide the headaches and ride out the symptoms.
Right now, though, the only tool available to him was to dry swallow a couple ibuprofen tablets. He dug the pills out of his pack and choked them down. A moment later, Elle was at his elbow, holding out a canteen of water.
“Here.”
“I’m good.” He waved her off, and her eyes flashed.
“Take it,” she insisted with a small frown. “Dehydration isn’t going to help, you know.”
She was right. He reached for the metal bottle, leaned back against the tree trunk, and took a long swig of the cold liquid. “Thanks.”
“De rien.” Her expression softened. “Do you want to find a spot where we can hunker down until it passes?”
“We don’t have that kind of time.” The headache would gradually weaken and, in an hour or so, it would be nothing more than a faint impression.
She drew her eyebrows together, and he went on, staving off the argument she was formulating.
“I’m not being a tough guy. I’m being a realist. We need to get Hanna off this cliff. Now.”
They both glanced ahead. Hanna had stopped on the path. She looked back at them over her shoulder with wide, worried eyes.
“We’re coming,” Omar called as he pushed off the tree.
“Please tell me if the headache gets worse,” Marielle said, her voice soft, as she fell into step beside him. “If we need to stop, I’ll find a copse of trees.”
“We won’t need to stop.”
“But if we do.”
“We won’t.”
Her tone sharpened. “Shame on me for worrying about you.”
He surprised himself by grabbing her hand. “I appreciate it. I really do. But to the extent my headache is from stress, the sooner we’re off the street and in the safe house, the sooner I’ll feel better.”
She squeezed his palm. “About the safe house …”
“Yeah?” he prompted.
“We can’t go there.” She dropped his hand and quickened her pace.
He shook his head in confusion and instantly regretted it as the band of pain tightened. He forced a ragged breath out from between his clenched teeth as he followed her.“What are you talking about? We’re going to duck into your friend’s inn and stay out of sight while we arrange transportation to the 5th Arrondissement. That’s the plan.”
“That was the plan. But we need to regroup and come up with a new plan.”
He gaped at her. “Why?”
She cut her eyes toward Hanna, who was now only a few feet ahead of them, in clear earshot. “Let’s talk about it once we’re inside.”
He suppressed a growl, about to force the issue, but just then they reached the summit.
Hanna stopped.
Marielle step up beside her and pointed west. “See that inlet?”