Especially when she’d so easily dismissed her—for being old and small and fat. As if she really were RoboCop, with one of those screens in her head beeping green at the sight of an old lady.
Of course, if she did have a screen, she’d have known Amka carried a knife in her hand and a gun in her holster. The woman would have known that Daisy’s hunting rifle was leaning on the porch rail beside her. Out of view but not out of mind. Much like Daisy herself.
She smiled now, thinking of the woman she loved more than anything in the world.
And the Robo-woman smiled back.
Good Lord, these people were simple.
“They sent me here to give you this.” She held out the plate of cookies she’d gone back to her place to get. On her best china, too. Part of the set Daisy had inherited from her family.
“Oh.” The woman put out her hand and pulled it back, with a slight shake of her head. “I can’t…”
Amka shoved them forward, taking a couple of limping steps closer, even though she risked revealing how well-armed she was. “They’re diet.”
The deep-sunk eyes went to the plate and stayed there. “Diet cookies? You mean like, no—”
She didn’t get another word in. By the time Robo-lady realized the knife was at her throat, Amka’d already pressed it close enough to the skin to keep her from finishing. With her other hand, she set the plate down and yanked the communication device from the woman’s ear. “One sound,” she whispered, “and I skin you like a bear.” The woman stiffened and Amka put more pressure on the blade. “I’ve killed bigger creatures than you. Don’t for a second think I’d hesitate.”
When she nodded, Amka let up, just enough to wrap one of those big-ass twist ties around her wrists and pull it tight. Nudging the woman along in front of her, she stepped to the side of the door and threw it open. “Marion!” she stage-whispered. “It’s Amka. I’m coming in there to untie you and the kids. Don’t attack me or anything. I brought cookies.” She threw the woman a wicked smile. “And we got ourselves a prisoner.”
Chapter 12
Elias stomped back into the cave, followed by his dog, and went straight to his sleeping bag, not once looking Leo’s way. Which was disappointing, because now that she knew who he was, she was riveted. Okay, a little weirded out, because Elias freaking Thorne. But also undeniably fascinated. Here she was, stuck in a cave with a dead man. A man who’d turned against his own government, his own people, who’d stolen and killed before being shot to death in the biggest massacre America had seen since 9/11. The media had gone wild, she remembered, the conjecture had been over-the-top. Spy theories, terrorism, even some cult thing. Wait, hadn’t his girlfriend written a book?
Except none of it was true.
She opened her mouth and shut it, reminding herself that she wasn’t here to get to know the real Elias Thorne—even if the man was intriguing as hell. She was here to stop the bad guys from getting the virus and maybe figure out what exactly they planned to do with it.
“Will you answer one question? Just one.” Her voice came out louder than she’d intended, echoing from one side of their den to another. “Do you have it?” When he didn’t respond, she forged on. “The virus. Do you have it with you?”
Without acknowledging her, he slid into his sleeping bag, zipped himself up, and turned on his side, away from her.
“You freezing me out?”
“We need to sleep.”
“You don’t get to do that.”
He glanced a question her way.
“You don’t get to decide when I sleep or eat or—”
“I need sleep. You do what you want.”
Deflated, she sank back into her own bag, suddenly aware of all the tension in her back, the tightness in her shoulders. She did her best to relax, though every part of her wanted to move.
Andante, Leontyne, Papa would say. Drove her bananas when she was a kid and needed to run, run, run, but in this place, it had a weird way of working. If she closed her eyes and concentrated, she heard the metronome slowing, felt her pulse ease off, the air sailing in and out instead of churning, constricted. By the time she’d settled back into a normal rhythm, she was half-asleep, her body finally catching up with the day’s—and night’s—events.
“I’m sorry, Elias. I get…worked up about things. I didn’t intend to harass you.”
After a few seconds, he grunted, which seemed to be his fallback response to pretty much everything.
It was the last sound she heard before passing out.
Leo knew where she was this time before she opened her eyes. Even before she was fully awake. It wasn’t the cold bedrock beneath her body or the slow drip of water somewhere above that told her. It wasn’t even the soft nap of fur against her cheek, redolent of dog. It was Elias Thorne’s solid body against hers.
She couldn’t even be mad about it, because as promised, his arm was nowhere near her. She was the one who’d wrapped herself around him. No doubt in search of heat, because the man put it out like a radiator. Her hand was so tightly pressed to his chest that it pulsed with the light, constant beat of his heart.
Or maybe she just imagined that last bit. You couldn’t really feel a person’s heartbeat through ribs and muscle and flesh, could you? Not to mention coats and sweaters, base layers, and gloves.
She should roll back or something, because sleeping in close—or even overlapped—quarters with a stranger was definitely not a good idea. This particular stranger—accused murderer, spy, and who knew what else—should be especially scary, and yet she’d bet every piece of survival equipment they had that he was as innocent as he claimed. She remembered his expression when he’d told her about keeping his secret. This man wasn’t a murderer. She didn’t want him to be a murderer. And she knew enough about how Chronos worked by now to feel confident he had been set up to take that fall.
Besides, throwing him off right now would be like losing a heavyweight feather comforter on a lazy Sunday morning…in the dead of winter.
Well, worse than that, because his heat was actually helping to keep her alive at this point.
Ignoring all her embarrassment, along with a few misgivings, she forced her breath to stay slow and even, so as not to give away the truth of what she was doing—even to herself—and scooted forward just the slightest bit, put her face to his back, and inhaled. Good God, he felt good; smelled good, like a toasty—
He groaned, the sound twisting deep and warm in a place she’d rather not acknowledge at a time like this.
She stilled.
When he didn’t budge, she slowly let her breath out through her open mouth and inhaled quietly through her nose. Another slow inhale/exhale and she relaxed her shoulders.
He was out. She should be, too. Forcing her eyes shut, she tried to find sleep—not easy now that her body had felt that zing of attraction.
“Know you’re awake.” His voice vibrated from his chest.
“Crap.” She stiffened and rolled fully away, bumping the dog, whose comfortable bulk disappeared with a snuffle, leaving the cold to seep in at both the front and back. “I’m sorry. I know I said you shouldn’t—”
“Don’t mind.” He yawned, the sound sending her into a jaw-cracking yawn of her own.
Shivering, she wrapped the sleeping bag tighter around her shoulders and hunkered down—a foot from him.
The air shifted when he rose, his body whispering through the absolute darkness, which finally relented when he lit the oil lamp. Even its tepid glow was blinding after so much nothing.
For a few long moments, he stood, wide back to her, as if waking and gathering himself or gearing up to do something unpleasant. Finally, what felt like ages later, although it was maybe just a minute, he turned to her. “Not used to human company.” The massive shoulders rose and fell almost apologetically. She pictured herself wrapping her arms arou
nd them, giving him comfort. “It almost—I don’t know—hurts to have someone around.” Each slow, considered word struck her with the impact of a tiny dart. Simple, clean, and piercing in the way of deep, personal truths.
She opened her mouth and shut it—why add noise to a silence already rife with emotion?
When she didn’t speak—and for some reason she got the impression he expected her to—he grabbed the headlamp and took off into the long passage that led to their temporary restrooms.
Just as discombobulated by her reaction to the man as the bumps on her head, she sat up slowly and leaned against the wall. Gingerly, she lifted one heavy arm, pushed her hood back, and investigated her scalp.
It was numb. Why couldn’t she feel anything?
A few panicked seconds passed before it occurred to her to remove her glove. Right. She yanked it off and tried again, this time relieved to touch fingertips to hair—matted though it was—and to finally find the tender bits, covered with a bandage.
Her gaze caught the front of what had once been her gray coat, now mostly brown with blood.
The reality of her near miss smacked her with a wave of dizziness and she eased her way back onto her sleeping bag. She could have lost an eye in that crash. Could have died. Instead, she’d come out with a cut head and a hangover.
Would she have gotten out if Elias hadn’t shown up? No. She’d have bled out or wandered around, eventually freezing to death, or—more likely—been murdered.
What was probably delayed shock made her shiver, even after she’d slid back into her sleeping bag, wishing he were here to warm her.
She owed her life to Elias Thorne. Whoever he was, whatever he’d done, there was no doubt about that. Now, she needed to repay him.
***
Say nothing.
Trust no one.
Two rules to live by.
So, what now? He watched the woman as she slept, thinking he too should get more rest before the weather changed, turning this brief respite into a race for their lives.
But he was way too antsy for that. Like Bo, whose eyeballs flicked back and forth from him to the entrance, as if to say Come on! Let’s hunt! he wanted to get out there, put some distance between them and the enemy.
And he’d do it if it were just the two of them. But this woman changed things.
I could leave her.
The thought lodged in his chest like a blood clot.
Rather than dwell on what an absolute prick he was for even considering it, he got up and led Bo outside, where she braved the elements with glee. As a malamute-husky mix she was pretty much made for this place.
He stopped just inside the glacier cave’s camouflaged opening and watched her bound over the thick layer of ice, completely unheeding the nasty crap falling from the sky. How much longer would this last?
With daybreak, what had started as ice could turn into rain too damn quickly. And rain meant snowmelt. A bad time to be out there, running for their lives.
When Bo returned, he took a final look at the sky and followed her inside, eager to slide back into his bag. Not to be close to Leo, he assured himself. But to get warm and rest before the long haul out of here.
He and Bo had just settled down as far from Leo as possible when they heard something—and this time it wasn’t outside.
***
“Gotta move, Leo.”
A light burned, so bright it hurt her eyeballs. Hands grabbed, nudged her. She slapped them away.
“Leo. Get up. Now.” Another nudge made her hunker down and try to cover her head. “Come on.”
She batted at the relentless hands, mumbling for them to stop.
“Leontyne.” The voice was quiet, deep, in her head.
Once Leo got her sandpaper lids unstuck, her eyeballs were the only part of her she could move. The rest was a dead weight. The Yeah? she tried to say came out all wrong.
“Got to go.”
“Time is it?”
“Time to move.”
Her eyes focused, took in the big, human shape above her, darkness all around. Within a split second, adrenaline flushed into her veins. “Ready,” she lied.
Elias and the dog both stared at the cave entrance, sending her instincts into overdrive.
She stood too fast and leaned against the wall, waiting for the wave of sickness to pass. “What is it?”
“Something’s wrong.”
“Beyond the obvious?”
He ignored her attempt at humor and eyed the passage back up into the tunnels. “Someone’s close. Gotta go.”
The little hairs on her body pricked up.
“Right now.” He went to work rolling up the sleeping bags.
“Where?” She reached for her boots.
“Where do you need to go?”
“To Campbell Turner. To the virus.” She slid him a look. “Unless you have it.”
His “Let’s go” wasn’t exactly a response, but she didn’t push. There wasn’t time to chat.
“Or Canada. Amka made me promise I’d take you to Canada.”
“Made you promise, huh?” He shook his head, before his eyes narrowed in on her. “What you got on under those?”
She stopped struggling with her boot. “You mean besides underwear?”
“Base layers. You got any base layers?”
“One.”
He muttered an obscenity and threw another look at the doorway. “Put these on. Fast.”
She caught the tights he flung her way—two pairs—and a thin, synthetic pair of socks. As fast as she could manage, she stripped off her trousers and pulled the oversized layers on top of her base layer—loose wasn’t ideal in the cold, but better than nothing. While she struggled to get dressed, Elias remained occupied, his back to her.
“Happen to find a fire kit when you searched my bag?” he asked, still not looking her way.
“Oops.” She pulled it from her coat pocket. “Sorry.”
He looked down at her hand and back up. “Keep it.”
“But you—”
“We’re in this together. Keep it.”
She nodded and continued getting ready. The next couple of minutes were a jumbled sequence, performed in almost absolute silence. Dressing, finally shoving her feet into boots and her head into a ski mask that Elias handed her, spinning to take a last look at the space, before following him into the glacier cave.
No time to stop and marvel at the brighter blues, the shocking swirls. No time to get down on her ass and slide across like a toddler. She put her arms out for balance and slipped along, grateful when he snaked an arm around her back.
“What’d you hear?”
“Don’t know. But it was something.”
“Close?”
“Hard to tell in the tunnels.” He stalked carefully around clear stalactites—or stalagmites, or whatever these structures were called.
Leo didn’t think she’d ever felt so small. Elias was fast, keeping pace with his dog, who looked for all the world like she was about to embark on an easy stroll at the dog park.
In flashes, she was again struck by the eerie beauty of the place.
Frozen, as if by God’s hand, only God wasn’t some bearded white dude up in heaven. He—they, it—was these endless, jaw-dropping, swirling layers of ice. Millions of tons of it, soaring up with such absolute majesty, such surreal extravagance that it literally took her breath away. Or maybe that was the cold, gusting in from outside.
“Think it was a person?”
He stared at her.
“What you heard, back there. Was it a person? People?”
“Yes.” His voice held a grim sort of certainty. At a narrow fissure in the ice wall, he stopped and looked down at her, his eyes glittering hard in the strange light. “Gotta move fast, make sure they don’t catch u
p to us.” He leaned in and even through the ski mask, his breath heated her cheek. “Not gonna be easy with what’s out there.”
“The storm that bad?”
He shook his head before shoving their packs out through the tight opening. “Worse.”
Chapter 13
She followed close behind, her breath snatched straight from her mouth when she emerged into an icy, wind-blown wilderness like nothing she’d ever experienced. And she’d been to Antarctica.
Snow and ice pelted everything. Yesterday’s brown-and-green-flecked landscape was coated in white, washed with the angry, tumultuous gray of a storm that wasn’t close to letting up.
She reached for her bag. When he didn’t immediately release it, she moved in. “We get separated, I’ll need my gear.” Maybe they should have split the fire kit in two. Or maybe they’d just need to stick together.
“Sure you can handle it?”
“Yes,” she lied.
There was no shift in his expression when he handed the thing over, no change to features that were already mysterious behind all that hair, not to mention the screen of ice and snow separating them, but she felt his hesitation.
Without wasting words, she hefted the bag onto her shoulder, nodded once, and blindly followed him into the thick of the storm.
Five minutes in, Leo was already reevaluating her physical fitness. No, more than that, she was reevaluating her entire life. Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape training, also known as SERE, had nothing on this. And she’d suffered back then. But this, trudging through more than a foot of hard-crusted snow, without snowshoes, the wind slicing through her, precipitation making visibility essentially nil, was the hardest thing she’d ever done. And she was somewhat protected in Elias’s wake, his bulk serving as a windbreak for her. She had no idea how he plowed on, but he did. Unerringly.
It wasn’t even light yet. How could he tell where they were? Much less where they were headed?
Uncharted Page 10