by Tina Folsom
Nick glanced at Michelle, seeking eye contact. She stared back at him, frightened. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Why he felt he had to make her that promise, a promise he was determined to keep, he wasn’t entirely sure, particularly since at this moment he wasn’t in the position to make promises—not with a gun pointed at his head.
Michelle pressed her lips together and swallowed.
“Walk.”
Nick reached for Michelle’s hand and followed the stranger’s order. The time it took to reach the storage shed tucked away between some trees seemed to take forever. During the entire time, Nick went through various scenarios of how to turn the tables on the guy following them. But every scenario meant putting Michelle’s life in danger. It was better to take a wait-and-see approach, until he could figure out whether the guy was friend or foe. At least, Nick would be alone with him at that point, which would mean he’d only have to worry about his own life.
The lock on the shed was perfunctory at best and gave way easily.
Nick urged Michelle into the dark interior, noticing her shiver at the prospect of being locked up.
“Take her phone,” the stranger ordered.
Nick stretched his hand out, nodding to Michelle to follow the barked command. She dug into her pocket and pulled it out, placing it in his palm.
“I’ll be back soon. Trust me.”
She lifted her eyes to his then, staring long and hard at him. “I hope I won’t regret this.”
So did he. With a last look at her, he closed the shed door, when his fellow Stargate agent handed him a chain.
“Loop it through the handle and that hook, then tie it.”
Nick did as he was told. When it was done, he turned back to the man.
“This way.”
They walked to a small hedge, where the guy stopped. “This’ll do. She won’t be able to hear us here.”
Nick stopped and pivoted, watching to his surprise how the man holstered his gun and adopted a more relaxed stance.
“Name’s Yankee.”
“Fox.” Suspiciously, Nick glanced at the gun now on Yankee’s hip. “What changed your mind about me?”
“Overheard you talking to that woman for quite a while. Told me enough to know you’re clean.” He motioned to the shed. “Doesn’t mean I was gonna reveal who I am in front of her. Neither should you. Can’t trust anybody. Nice attempt though with her. She might play ball if we’re lucky.”
He ignored Yankee’s last comments and asked instead, “And how am I gonna know whether you haven’t turned against Stargate?”
“’Cause I’m telling you.”
“Not good enough.”
“You’re still alive. Could have shot you a hundred times over and you wouldn’t have known what hit you.”
Nick couldn’t argue with that, though that didn’t mean he liked the guy’s modus operandi. “Enjoy that macho stuff much?”
Yankee grinned from one ear to the other, looking overly smug. “It gets the job done.”
“Don’t think Michelle appreciated it much,” Nick said dryly.
“I’m not really concerned with what a civilian is thinking. I’ve got more important things on my mind.”
“Which would be?”
“The Stargate agents are under attack.”
“No shit. You’re only catching onto that now? Where were you three years ago?”
“In the same situation as you: running for my life. I’m sick of running and hiding. It’s time to act.”
“Why now?”
“Because the shit just hit the fan.” Yankee glanced around, listening, looking, before turning his face back to Nick. “Echo is dead.”
Though he didn’t know the person Yankee was referring to, Nick assumed the name was a code name. “A Stargate agent?”
Yankee nodded, a sad expression on his face. “He’d gone bad. Worked for our enemies. By the time he changed his mind and wanted to make good, it was already too late. But what’s done is done. Can’t wallow in the past. I know something big is coming. Something real bad.”
“What is it?” Nick asked, drawing in closer, curious now.
“You have the dream, too? The dream about the inferno, the destruction?”
Shocked, Nick stumbled back a few paces, his mouth gaping. How could Yankee know about the horrific premonition that haunted his sleep?
Yankee nodded to himself. “So you do. Echo had it, too. That’s why I figured all of us have that same dream.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “Anyway, after talking to Echo before he died, I realized that we see slightly different parts of that premonition, and it made me think that maybe others do, too. If we have all of the parts, maybe if we piece them together something might start making sense. That’s why I started looking for others from the program.”
“So what do you want from me?”
“Same you want from me. Resurrect Stargate, let us rise once more. That’s why you put your feelers out there on the Dark Web for one of us to find you, isn’t it? I’m here, and I’m ready to fight.” Yankee put his hand on his holster to underscore his words.
“It’s not that easy. This isn’t gonna be a shootout at the OK Corral, buddy. I’m working a different angle.” Nick looked his fellow Stargate agent up and down, still unsure whether to trust him fully, though the fact that he was still alive—as was Michelle—was one point in Yankee’s favor.
“As long as it’ll take us to the same goal, I don’t care much which way we’re gonna play it.” Yankee motioned toward the Lincoln Memorial. “Then let’s go. We need to come up with a plan of action.” He already turned and took a few steps.
“I’m not leaving Michelle here.”
Yankee stopped and looked over his shoulder. “You’ll have to. She can’t come with us. She’s a civilian, and she knows too much already. She’s gonna lead our enemy right to us.”
Nick squared his stance and fisted his hands at his sides. “I won’t leave her. And that’s final. We need her. She has information that’s critical to what I’m planning.”
“She’s got pretty tits and a hot ass, that’s all.”
“Fucking asshole!” Nick growled and marched toward him.
“She’s got no information. She admitted it herself. She’s never seen that guy, that Smith. She won’t be able to help us identify him, so put your dick back in your pants. Just because you’ve got the hots for her doesn’t mean I’m gonna let her come.”
Nick lunged at the guy and landed a blow in his face. His fellow Stargate agent lost no time in punching back, knocking Nick’s head sideways.
When Nick pulled his fist back for another hook, Yankee growled, “Damn it, Fox, why didn’t you say she was your girl?”
Nick froze in mid-movement.
“She is your girl, isn’t she? It’s just… from the things I overheard earlier, I couldn’t really tell. Apologies.”
Slowly, Nick relaxed and dropped his fist. Apparently he’d just given away something to his fellow Stargate agent that he hadn’t realized himself yet: he didn’t just have the hots for Michelle. He cared about her wellbeing, cared about her.
Without a word, Nick turned and walked toward the shed.
17
“Ouch!”
Michelle cursed as her hand slipped from the shovel’s handle and another fingernail broke at her attempt to pry the door off the rickety shed. If she continued like this, she soon wouldn’t have any fingernails left.
But she couldn’t stop. She had to get out of here. What if that stranger was going to kill Nick? And once Nick was dead, the guy would take care of her. She shivered despite the muggy night air, and not only because she was in fear of her own life. To her surprise, she also worried about Nick, even though she shouldn’t. He really didn’t deserve it.
He’d insinuated himself in her life with lies. She didn’t know what to believe anymore. Unfortunately that didn’t stop her from caring about what happened to him. She’d spent a won
derful night with him and experienced a closeness to him that she hadn’t felt with any other man before.
It’s only sex, a voice in her head cautioned her. Was that true? Maybe. Then why was her heart contracting in pain when she imagined Nick lying on the ground, a bullet in his head? She tried to shake off the image. She couldn’t let that happen. Somehow she had to help him. She wanted to believe that he would do the same for her in the same situation, though she had no idea if he would really risk his life for her.
However, there had been that brief moment when the gunman had shown up, when Nick had shielded her with his broad back, almost as if it had been an automatic reaction. A protector instinct that had kicked in. Because she was a woman? Or because she was the woman he’d slept with the night before? If only she knew.
His words still echoed in her mind.
I didn’t need to get this close. But I wanted to.
Was it the truth? She was inclined to believe it, not because she was a hopeless romantic—which she was—but because Nick clearly had the skills to get to the information he wanted without sleeping with her. Hell, he’d managed to steal her flash drive and return it without her noticing, because, yes, she’d checked her key ring the moment they’d thrown her into the shed. And the flash drive dangled from it as if it had never been gone.
Nick could have easily broken into her apartment while she slept and taken what he needed. There’d been no need to even make her acquaintance. Had that been his plan at the beginning?
“Doesn’t matter,” she muttered to herself.
Being in Nick’s arms had felt right. And now he’d offered her a way out of her current predicament, and—goddamn it—she wanted to accept his offer and believe that he could deliver what he promised. But for that to happen Nick had to stay alive. She could always kick his lying ass later and tell him what she thought of him.
The sound of a rattling chain tore her from her musings.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
Panic rose from her stomach to her throat, sending her heart racing and making her breath stutter to a halt. She gripped the shovel’s wooden handle more tightly, holding onto it with both hands now, raising it for leverage.
Somebody pulled on the chain. The door moved back and forth on its hinges for a moment, before opening outward.
“There we go.”
It was the voice of the stranger.
Without another thought, Michelle took two steps forward, clearing the door frame, before she swung at the dark figure waiting there for her.
“Shit, no, Michelle!”
Nick’s outcry came in mid-swing, too late to pull back the shovel and divert its path. The dark figure—the stranger—lunged to the side, avoiding a hit to his head, but a second person—Nick—stood beside him. As the shovel completed its arc it landed right on Nick’s ass, sending him flying into the dirt.
Nick grunted.
She dropped the shovel and was already running to him, crouching down next to him.
“Fuck, Michelle, what did you do that for?”
“Oh my God, did I hurt you?”
A belly laugh from the stranger made her whirl around.
“I think you guys have some real relationship issues you’ve gotta work on,” the stranger said.
“I was aiming at you,” she ground out.
“Maybe you wanna teach her some target practice, buddy.”
Groaning, Nick pushed himself up to stand and reached for her, pulling her up, looking past her to the other man. “I blame you for that hit, not her. If you hadn’t insisted on locking her into a shed full of gardening tools, that wouldn’t have happened.” Then he looked at her. “Michelle, meet Yankee.” He paused for a moment. “An old colleague of sorts.”
She turned slowly, looking the stranger up and down. His gun was holstered at his side now, and he looked somewhat less scary than earlier. But only just somewhat. “Mr. Yankee.”
The guy chuckled. “Not mister, just Yankee. You know, like Bono.”
Michelle nodded, then glanced over her shoulder at Nick. “You gonna tell me what all this was about?”
“Later. We’ve gotta get out of here first.” He motioned to Yankee. “Lead the way.”
Nick made a motion to follow the guy, but Michelle grabbed his arm. “You’re forgetting something.”
“I told you, I’ll fill you in later.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.” She sighed. “But if I don’t text Smith a recording soon, he’ll know something went down, and he’ll be looking for me. I’ve gotta disappear right now, or he’ll get me.”
Nick froze.
“She’s right,” Yankee said, turning back to them.
The two men exchanged a look, then they both started grinning.
“Well, then let’s give this Smith dude something to keep him busy,” Nick said.
“Always wanted to do a little acting,” Yankee replied. “You want me to do an accent? I can do Colombian real well.”
Nick rolled his eyes, while Yankee pulled Michelle’s cell phone from his pocket and navigated through the menu.
Michelle leaned into Nick, bringing her mouth to his ear. “Can you trust him? He was pointing a gun at your head earlier.”
“Just as I was pointing a gun at yours. Yet you trust me.”
“I didn’t say that.”
He moved his head back to lock eyes with her. “But you do.” He tipped his chin in Yankee’s direction. “I trust him about as much as you trust me right now. That’ll have to do.”
“Hey, if you lovebirds would stop doing whatever you’re doing, we could get this show on the road.”
Michelle stepped away from Nick abruptly, feeling herself blush in the dark. They weren’t lovebirds, far from it. They were… Well, she didn’t really know what they were. No word came to mind.
“I’m ready,” Nick announced and walked up to Yankee.
18
Yankee opened the sliding side door of a dark van. “Hop on in.”
Nick got inside and offered his hand to Michelle to help her up.
Yankee hopped in and pulled the door shut behind him. He sat down on the bench opposite Nick and Michelle’s. “Okay, Fox, let’s talk.”
Michelle stared at Yankee. “Fox? Who’s Fox?”
“He is,” Yankee said, pointing an Nick.
Michelle glared at Nick. “Your name is not Nick Young?”
“I’ll explain later.” Right now there were more important things to discuss.
Yankee should his head. “So she doesn’t even know your code name? I thought she’s your girlfriend. Does that mean she knows nothing about your premonitions either?”
“Premonitions?” Michelle echoed.
Nick sighed. “Thanks a lot, Yankee. Way to break the news.” He squeezed her hand in reassurance, but this wasn’t the time to go into long explanations about his special gift.
“You have premonitions?” she asked again.
Nick nodded. “I’m not the only one. Yankee has them too.”
Yankee nodded. “Yeah. But one of them, I’ve been getting over and over. The premonition about the inferno, the destruction, my skin melting from the intense heat.”
Nick’s jaw tightened. “You’re actually at the explosion site when it happens? I’m not.”
“What?” Yankee asked.
“I’m somewhere at a lake, on a porch of some fancy mansion.”
“Tell me more,” Yankee insisted.
“I’m in front of my computer. Somebody I can’t see gives me iced tea to drink. I think it’s poisoned, because as soon as I drink it and try to type something into the computer, my hands are paralyzed. I can’t do it. I can’t stop it. I’m helpless. On the screen, I can see the explosion. Then the shockwave hits the lake and catapults five sailboats right out of the water, turns them into matchsticks. It’s all I see before I get slammed against the side of the house.”
“Sailboats on a lake? Wonder whether that means anything…” Yankee mused, rubb
ing his chin. “Could be a location. And the person who gives you that iced tea that paralyzes you? Can you remember anything about him? Or her?”
Nick shook his head. “I only see a hand. It’s a man, I can tell that much.”
“Any rings, scars?”
“I don’t remember any.”
“Next time you have the premonition, focus in on that. We need to find out who’s behind this. In my visions I don’t see any man. You might be the first one who’s gotten a glimpse of our enemy.”
“Next time?” Michelle interrupted, her gaze bouncing back and forth between the two of them. “You guys are psychic?”
Yankee cleared his throat. “Something like that. But let’s not get sidetracked here. Since it’s pretty clear that we’re seeing the same thing, it’s important that we get Stargate back together. Not only are our enemies trying to pick us off one-by-one, they’re also planning something major. We have to prevent it. Problem is we don’t know the others or where they’re hiding.” He motioned to Nick. “I was lucky to find you.”
“I’ve been working on a solution for that for a while.”
Yankee slid forward on the bench opposite Nick’s. “What solution?”
“Sheppard kept a private file on all his Stargate members. Names, pictures, backgrounds. Separate from the CIA’s classified personnel file—which I have the feeling has been destroyed by our enemy already.”
“And Sheppard’s file? You think it still exists? Wouldn’t whoever killed him have destroyed that one, too?”
“I don’t think so. I was able to figure out that Sheppard used a second login at the CIA. The only thing is, I can’t find it.”
“I don’t get it.”
“It’s not easy to explain, but I’ve found digital fingerprints of somebody accessing certain files, but I can’t trace who. In the end it always loops back to Sheppard’s old login, and that’s been disabled long ago.”
“A ghost login,” Michelle said.
Nick whirled his head to her. “You know what I mean?”
She nodded eagerly. “I’ve heard of something like it.” She looked at Yankee. “I was a hacker. Anyway, I’ve heard of ghost logins being set up by members of Anonymous to mirror a real login. But when somebody comes across it and tries to trace it, it always leads back to the real login, the one the person was shadowing or mirroring. It’s impossible to trace or find. It’s not hackable.” She locked eyes with Nick. “Was that what you were looking for when you hacked into those servers?”