Tangled in Time

by Pauline Baird Jones

  They’d draped Olivia’s jacket over the handcuffs and if they were lucky and the guys were careless, they might get “rescued” instead of arrested. Olivia trembled, maybe from fear. Trucks were a big leap for a gal from the horse and buggy era, so he wrapped his free arm around her waist. She smelled of sun and sand and lavender and what he now knew was her. There were a lot of odds stacked against them and just in case everything went wrong, there was one thing he had to do.

  He had to kiss the girl.

  He couldn’t hear her and she couldn’t hear him, but she didn’t fight it when his hand found her chin and lifted it. Her gaze, so innocent and inquiring, almost gave him pause, but then she licked her lips, leaving this perfect, pink circle just begging to be tasted. She didn’t fight him when he bent his head. Might have lifted up on her toes. Then it didn’t matter who was doing what, because his mouth was on hers and it was everything a kiss should be and more. Olivia kissed like an angel. She kissed like someone who’d never been kissed and for some reason that made it better. If this was his last, he could die a happy man, though he’d rather go on kissing her. He wished it was his job, his only job to kiss her. He felt her free hand slide up his chest and around the back of his neck. At first the touch was light, but as he increased the pressure on her lips, her grip tightened, too.

  She’d started out slow, but she was learning her way around his mouth pretty fast. She’d been pressed against him, but there was pressing and there was pressing with intent. Part of him figured she had no clue what she was doing to him, part of him couldn’t believe how right it felt to kiss a girl from 1894, how right it felt to kiss this girl. He kept it going because he couldn’t stop, even though her parasol she’d managed to hold on to somehow was doing painful things to his midsection. The noise, the blowing dirt, the fact that they might be in the 40’s faded to a distant buzz.

  The sudden cessation of truck engines and the sound of a lot of guns cocking got his attention off kissing. He looked up just in time to see a general climb out of a Jeep and start toward them. Funny how the walk and the look never changed. Even with his arms full of 1890’s woman and knowing he shouldn’t, he came to attention. He did refrain from saluting or saying, “Sir.” It would only piss him off.

  Guy could have been Halliwell. Maybe he was a Halliwell. Carey couldn’t do the math in his head fast enough. Wouldn’t that be a kick in the ass? Ice blue eyes did a thorough assessment of him, then turned to Olivia. Carey wanted to shield her with his body, but they were supposed to an innocent couple whose car broke down and got lost in the dark. Their clothes were costumes. Keep the lies simple, no embellishments, but this guy could smell lies at one hundred feet and he wouldn’t believe the truth.

  On the good news front, one of the guys was wielding a camera. With a lot of luck, that photo would make its way to the doc, who would know when and where to send help. That she was still tweaking the settings he tried not to dwell on. Seemed like a good time to break the silence.

  “We’re sure glad to see you, sir.”

  The ice gaze swiveled back to Carey and narrowed. With his peripheral vision, Carey saw Olivia’s chin come up.

  “We were lost.”

  Still without speaking, the general did a slow look around. “I’d say you’re both something.”

  With a flourish, she unfurled the parasol and lifted it, managed to do it without exposing the handcuffs. Even grubby and disheveled, she gave off “I’m a lady” vibes that caused the first hint of softening in the general’s granite expression.

  “It was kind of you to come to our assistance,” now it was her gaze that did a survey with no sign of unease at all the weapons pointed at them, “so thoroughly.” Just a tiny lift of her brows and the general’s brows twitched. Carey knew exactly how he felt.

  The brows drew together a bit. “I’m General Stevens, US Army. You’re in a restricted area.” He tried to out stern Olivia, but he lacked the necessary information. He’d never seen Mary Poppins.

  “We were driving to a party in Glen Springs and I guess we got turned around in the dark,” Carey did his best sincere look and tone, “and then ran out of gas. We wandered around until it got light and then wandered around some more until we spotted you.”

  “You walked from Glen Springs to here?”

  “We never saw Glen Springs.” Olivia gave Carey a look that women had been giving men for centuries. Her tone rang with the truth, because it was the truth. It was perfect. She was perfect. She’d told him she was a poor liar, so he was hoping to make sure she didn’t have to prove the truth of that.

  “You were going to a party dressed like that?”

  Carey could tell the general was uncertain, though he was good at not showing it.

  “We’d hardly be walking around in this get up normally. It was a costume party.” It was a weird moment to be grateful to General Halliwell for being such a hard nose. This Charlie foxtrot would be a lot harder without the general’s rigorous tactics to school him. When this general’s shoulders relaxed a bit, Carey didn’t make the mistake of relaxing, too. Olivia probably couldn’t relax her posture if her life depended on it, so no risk of giving the show away there.

  “You’ll need to be debriefed before we can release you.”

  Carey kept relaxed with an effort. Now it was his turn to look around. “What’s—oh, I probably shouldn’t ask, should I?”

  “No.” Stevens didn’t look impressed, but at least he didn’t bump up the suspicion vibes again. He gestured toward the Jeep. Carey led Olivia toward it, taking care to keep close, still hoping to keep the handcuffs out of sight. He lifted her in, then scrambled in after. Couldn’t afford to take a chance on the general being a gentleman and offering her shotgun.

  Her hand gripped his as the general took shotgun with no sign of gentlemanly inclinations and the driver started the engine. It was her first ride, he realized, and gave her a reassuring grin. He’d have put his arm around her, but cuffs stopped that. The engine was loud, the ride bumpy. Not a good first impression, but it did keep conversation to nothing. With any luck, they’d be added to the file and released. And with more luck, they’d get a ride to Marathon and maybe make their way to Marfa. Marfa seemed like a good place for the doc to come looking for them. She was the type to get the irony. She might even beat them there. She was scary smart.

  * * * *

  Olivia was still gently fuming when she and Brae were finally escorted to a sort of plain, stern room boasting the most basic of table and chairs. No surprise, the general had directed that they be allowed to freshen up before this “debrief,” whatever that was. Her notion of freshening up and Brae’s, well, it had been most distressing. She’d had to be quite firm, something that pained her after their kiss prior to the military’s arrival.

  “You are not coming in there with me,” Olivia had hissed past her smile for the soldier who had been detailed to accompany them, a polite variation for “guard.”

  “But what if—”

  She’d never interrupted anyone in her life, but she had interrupted him. “If you do, you do. I will not be sucked into the future while—well, I won’t, even if I’m stranded here forever.” He had backed off, though with flattering reluctance. She’d retrieved the key to the shackles, not without some loss of dignity and they’d disconnected with the guard being none the wiser. They’d reconnected after they’d both done what needed to be done.

  Their guard didn’t enter the room with them, though another young soldier brought them sustenance and water. She was unable to call it food, as it bore scant resemblance to anything she’d eaten anywhere, any time. She pushed it around the plate, longing to ask Brae what he’d meant by the kiss, but what could he mean by it? In her time, a kiss was an act of serious, marital intent, but it could be different over one hundred years into the future. She turned to Brae, not sure what she’d meant to ask, but he gave a tiny shake of his head.

  “Don’t be mad, honey. I’m sorry you missed the party, but
the Joneses will understand.” As he spoke, his gaze surveyed the room.

  Did he think someone might be eavesdropping on them? But how? She sighed internally. What did she know of devices in this time? It might be a simple matter to overhear them.

  “I took a wrong turn. It happens.” His grin invited her to enjoy the double edge to his statement.

  He had taken a very large wrong turn. Her lips twitched as she fought the smile. His hand was warm and strong gripping hers. He did have the nicest eyes. She wished she had the courage to touch his mouth. Her fingers tingled with the longing to trace their shape. If only she and Brae were—

  The door opened so abruptly, Olivia jumped, her hand tightening on Brae’s. She dropped the utensil that had come with her tray, making a loud clatter when it hit the tray. Brae’s hand tightened, too, in warning, as they both directed their attention to the opening.

  At the sight of the man standing there, Olivia felt a terrible roaring in her ears and thought she actually might faint. Was this what Brae had meant about a mind blowing? She opened her mouth to speak and Brae’s hand tightened again. She closed her mouth on the words, telling herself it must be his grandson. It couldn’t be him. But would his grandson look at her with recognition and a measure of shock quickly veiled?

  He pushed the door shut and leaned against it. His military garb suited him much better than his 1894 clothing had. Something about him had always bothered her, though it was only obvious now how ill suited he’d been to her time. His garb unleashed the menace she’d always sensed there beneath the polite façade. His eyes, cool and dangerous, were the same, now that he’d moved on from shock and surprise. Then menace faded into a smile that was delighted, but not in a comfortable way.

  “Miss Carstairs. What an unexpected…pleasure.”

  FOUR

  Carey felt his hackles rise and his instincts’ after burner kick on. The gomer was big and bulky, and at a guess, it was most or all muscle. He had one of those faces hard to describe, even when staring right at it, so why did Carey have the feeling he’d seen him before? When the guy’s gaze shifted to him, his gut kicked again. This guy was black ops to his toenails. How did he, how could he know Olivia? The man frowned, as if he too felt that kick of recognition.

  “Who’s your friend, Olivia?” Carey asked.

  “This is Professor Smith. Professor Tobias Smith.” Her voice was even, but he felt the tension that gripped her. “He’s a…colleague of Professor Twitchet.”

  This gomer had traveled through time, too? This was getting too weird for his pay scale.

  “Emelius not with you?”

  Olivia’s chin lifted. “No.”

  Smith stared at her, his gaze rock hard and disbelieving, but Carey knew she spoke the truth. He’d only known her for a few hours and he knew that about her.

  Smith strolled forward, with that rolling, light footed walk of the dangerous, and took a seat opposite them. “Pity.” His hand beat a discordant tattoo against the table top.

  When it stopped, Carey braced himself.

  “Where’s the machine?”

  Olivia didn’t blink or look away. She shrugged.

  “Emelius?”

  She shrugged again.

  “Why would you be interested in a 19th century machine, Professor?” The icy gaze shifted his direction again. Carey had a feeling he’d given something away with the question, but what?

  “It’s an interesting curiosity, don’t you think?”

  Carey shrugged. It had worked for Olivia. Smith looked amused, in a way almost as scary as the doc when she was amused.

  “So you collect antiques…by traveling back in time?”

  That erased Smith’s amusement. Carey was once again left with why? Who was this guy? Something about him twitched at the edges of his memory, just out of reach. Space and time. Had this guy used the portal , too? And if he had, when the doc tried to retrieve Carey, would she also scoop up Smith? Could he be one of their guys or an ET from the Garradian Universe? There’d been a butt load of geeks on board the Doolittle on both deployments, though he didn’t look like a geek. Of course, neither did the doc. Maybe they’d seen each other without seeing each other. He wanted to ask if the doc had sent him, but some instinct kept him silent. There was something off about the gomer.

  There was another possibility that made an ache start behind his left eye. Smith could be from further in the future, part of someone else’s experiment with the portal—which still didn’t explain his interest in Olivia’s machine.

  It was Smith’s turn to shrug, though it didn’t fool Carey. “I found Emelius’ work intriguing. He is a man ahead of his time.”

  “And you’re what? A time tourist?” He’d heard the phrase on a SyFy channel movie, in the time before they messed up their name.

  “Something like that.” Smith’s smile wasn’t nice.

  Which meant he was nothing like a time tourist.

  “And what’s intriguing in this place and time?” Olivia voiced the question in a tone that was nicely indifferent, as if his answer didn’t matter to her. She glanced around the bare room, then lifted her brows, her expression well into the haughty zone.

  Smith shifted back in his chair, his pose relaxed, like a tiger just before it pounces.

  “Ah, I’d like to say it was you, my dear, but of course you wouldn’t believe me.” He hesitated, then said, his tone as indifferent as Olivia’s, “I was invited here to investigate a phenomena.”

  “Marfa?” Carey didn’t try to hide his amusement.

  “Marfa is mildly interesting, but no. An explosion of light over the Chisos Mountains two nights ago.” Beneath half lowered lids, he watched them like a hopeful tiger.

  Carey didn’t change expression, though it took some effort not to react. Two nights ago? They’d collided last night, hadn’t they? So maybe this wasn’t about them?

  “You didn’t happen to see it, did you?” His gaze turned laser and probed them both.

  Olivia’s hand gripped his, but her expression didn’t change. He hoped his didn’t.

  “I didn’t see anything, did you, Brae?”

  He rubbed his chin with his uncuffed hand. “I saw a buzzard. We kinda bonded until the Sikorsky showed up and scared it off.”

  “He did seem curiously fond of you,” Olivia added, playing along.

  Smith sighed and his aspect shifted to something less threatening. “If you help me, I can help you get home, my dear.” His gaze lingered for a moment on Carey. “While he might want to, he can’t. Wrong skill set.”

  That was an odd statement.

  Olivia’s back straightened some more. How did she do that?

  “I am not your dear, Professor Smith.”

  Carey didn’t know how she did it, with her clothes and hair all rumpled, but it was like she channeled royalty. Smith didn’t curl up in shame, but color scored his cheekbones and his face hardened.

  “Without Emelius to guide you—”

  “He has soured on you,” Olivia cut in. “In fact, he specifically warned me against you. Why would he do that?”

  “Because he doesn’t know who his friends are.”

  “Or because he does.”

  Bravo, Olivia. Smith didn’t like that, though he tried to hide it. His smile turned creepy paternal.

  “Whether you believe it or not, I am your best hope right now, Miss Carstairs.”

  “Maybe we don’t need your help,” Carey said, mostly because he didn’t like the way Smith stared at Olivia. The cold gaze shifted back to Carey, making him glad again for the conditioning the general had so generously provided him with over the years. Now would be a good time for the doc to do her thing, so of course, she didn’t.

  Smith’s gaze dismissed him, turning back to Olivia.

  “Miss Carstairs, Emelius is in trouble.” He pulled something out of his pocket and tossed it on the table in front of them. Carey drew it to where they could both see it. It was an old, really old, newspaper article in a
plastic cover, detailing the mysterious disappearance of Professor Emelius Twitchet and his assistant, Miss Olivia Carstairs.

  Carey felt a tremor pass through her, though her rigid pose kept it from Smith’s sight.

  “Where is Emelius?”

  “I don’t know.” Her lashes were low, hiding her expression, but her voice was calm and even.

  “But you do know how to find him.”

  “I don’t.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  That got her lashes up. Smith leaned forward, the movement slight, but noticeable. “It’s out there, isn’t it? He’s out there, in the mountains somewhere. The military is looking for it and they will find it.”

  Carey opened his mouth to play dumb, but Olivia spoke first. “No, they won’t. There’s nothing to find.”

  “But you know where it is.”

  “I don’t.”

  A long pause as Smith considered her words. “You have an idea where it might be though.”

  A slight smile edged her mouth. “I don’t.”

  He jerked back as if she’d hit him. “I don’t believe you.”

  A slight shrug. “That is your prerogative.”

  When she talked like that, she really reminded him of the doc. That should have bothered him, maybe killed the kissing thing, but no, he still wanted to kiss her, even more now that he knew what it was like.

  Smith smiled. It wasn’t a good smile, more resigned, with a little something to it that sent a chill down his back.

  “Society in your time is confining. I guess I wouldn’t want to go back either, but please believe when I say, time is persistent. You can try to change it, but you will fail.”

  Olivia didn’t speak, flinch or look away from Smith.

  “Everyone’s life, even their death, affects the future in ways you can’t imagine.”

  “I guess you didn’t get the memo, since you’re here, too,” Carey put in to be annoying.

  His tone was light, patronizing. “My…job is to monitor time anomalies and assist time back onto its proper path.”