Under The Midnight Sun

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Under The Midnight Sun Page 17

by Marilyn Cunningham


  Adams seemed to have aged in the hour since he had left the apartment. His shoulders sagged, and the lines in his flushed face showed every one of his years. His glance at Malinche showed definite concern.

  “What did you find out?” Brian asked.

  “Something that makes me more worried than ever. I talked to a friend of mine in the Pentagon. He owes me some favors…he dug around. Said Dimitri Stanislof had requested the names of any soldiers who had served at Ward Cove during the War.”

  “So, did he say what the answer was?”

  Buck shook his head. “No, that’s what’s so disturbing. He didn’t know who answered the letter—it had been sent up the line someplace. He said he’d check and call back. He did call back—and suddenly he didn’t know anything about anything. He thought he might even have been mistaken about the original request. This from a friend of mine! I saved his life once, I’d trust him with mine.”

  “But didn’t you get a hint—a clue?”

  “The hint, if you call it that, is that this affair goes high up. He didn’t say so, but I suspect either CIA involvement or pressure from an oil cartel. Nothing else would scare him so much that he’d forget our friendship.”

  “Why would you suspect an oil cartel?”

  Buck rubbed his hand over his eyes. “The man who told me to get up here fast because my daughter was in danger was an oil man.”

  Damn. Brian had hoped there would be no more ties to Universal Oil, but the coincidences were too many to ignore. He felt as though he had lived his entire life in innocence. Pasco must be in this up to his ears.

  “Dimitri must have had more influence than I thought,” he said. “He was dead set against drilling on ANWR—the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge—and I know they thought he was a nuisance. But murder? And could an oil company silence the police? That sounds more like the government to me.”

  Buck rose slowly to his feet, suddenly showing every one of his advanced years, an old man as he gazed at his beloved daughter. “I don’t know If I could, I’d pick you up and carry you out of here, Malinche. I guess I wouldn’t leave myself if someone was trying to chase me away. But you know how dangerous it is.”

  “I’d say we’ve had proof of that,” Brian said wryly.

  “You’ve been lucky,” Buck retorted. “It may not keep up.” He stood and enfolded Malinche in his arms. “If you’re positive you won’t come back, I may as well leave. Call if you change your mind—or need anything at all. Take care, darlin’.”

  Recovering his autocratic manner, he turned to Brian. “Step outside, Kennedy. I’d like a word with you in private.”

  “Dad—”

  “In private, I said.”

  Grinning at Malinche’s outraged expression, Brian followed Buck out the door. He strode to the vehicle, not once glancing back. Only when the older man was seated in the back of the limo did he turn to Brian. “You love her, don’t you, boy?”

  “What! I—” This was the last thing Brian had expected.

  Buck waved his hand, cutting him off. “Don’t bother to deny it. I can see it in your face, every time you look at her. Every time she looks at you, for that matter. So, I have a proposition for you.”

  Brian gazed back in amazement. Yes, of course he loved her, had from the minute he saw her But he suspected Buck wouldn’t understand that love wasn’t enough when two lives were as separate as his and Malinche’s. Besides, it was really none of the old man’s business.

  “I also think I know why you’re holding back,” Buck said. “You don’t strike me as a man who would ordinarily do that. You’d go after what you wanted. But you’re hesitating because she’s rich and you’re poor.”

  Brian’s jaw tightened. If it were only that simple. Besides, he didn’t consider himself poor, although maybe to people like Buck he was.

  Buck apparently didn’t need confirmation of his assessment. “Here’s my proposition. I’ve got plenty of jobs for a man like you—or you can make your own. Name your own terms. Just bring my little girl home. Does that sound so bad? Money and the girl you love?”

  Brian struggled between laughing and exploding in anger. Neither, on reflection, seemed appropriate. The man loved his daughter, and was trying to protect her. If that included buying a son-in-law, that was cheap. He couldn’t be expected to know Brian couldn’t be bought.

  “I’m afraid I wouldn’t have any more success in getting her home than you’ve had, sir. She seems to be her own woman.”

  “Nuts. She’s crazy about you. If I didn’t know that, and how you feel about her, I’d never leave her here. She’s all I’ve got, Kennedy, and I’m trusting you to protect her.”

  “I’d planned on doing that,” Brian ground out.

  “I wouldn’t leave her with just any man, but I’m a good judge of character. You watch out for her—or you’ll answer to me.”

  “You don’t need to threaten me. Of course I’ll watch out for her.”

  “If anything happens to her—”

  “It won’t.”

  “Okay, I know you’ll do your best. It had damn well better be enough.” He held Brian’s eyes for a long moment. Then signaled his driver to go.

  Brian stared after the limo. He felt as though he’d been in the presence of a force of nature. Not too often does a man get offered the position of son-in-law with a cushy life, and threatened in the same breath. He had to admit he was flattered by Buck’s assessment of him. Trusting him to protect his only daughter. Brian knew he would—with his life, if necessary.

  But hadn’t Buck given up too easily?

  Maybe Buck believed that with the theft of the dragon, they were no longer in danger. Brian didn’t.

  She was waiting at the door, arms crossed over her chest, looking angry enough to chew nails. “So, did the menfolk get my future all taken care of?”

  “Hey, what makes you think we were talking about you?”

  “Let me tell you exactly what he said. If you’ll convince me to go home, he’ll give you a fabulous reward!”

  “If he believed that I could influence you, he doesn’t know you as well as I do. Convincing you to do something for your own good is like getting water to run uphill. It’s not a bad idea, though. We’ve run out of options.”

  “There seems to be a connection to Ward Cove,” she said slowly, dropping her arms to her side.

  “How do you figure that?”

  “All the strings connect. My mother was in Ward Cove, although she was only a child when the War ended and she left. I wonder if she knew Dimitri? And why was Dimitri interested in the name of a soldier who had served there?”

  “I don’t see how your mother figures in this at all. And you said Dimitri was a child of four or five when he left there.”

  “I know. I wish so much he’d lived.” Her voice trailed away, then with an obvious effort, she continued. “He could have told me so much about what life was like for her there—I think if I’d known that, what shaped her, little stories about her, I would feel so much closer to her.”

  He hated to see the pain in her eyes. “We’d better think of something to eat,” he said, more to divert her than because he was hungry. “Check the freezer, and I’ll dash over to my place for messages.”

  “I’ll come with you. We can stop off at a grocery store.”

  In Brian’s apartment, Malinche lingered by the door while Brian checked the messages on his machine. Joe Pasco’s voice came clearly through the machine.

  “Brian? Aren’t you home yet? Well, give me a call the minute you get in. I need to see you. It’s urgent.”

  Brian shut off the machine and riffled through a pile of letters.

  “Are you going to call him?”

  “No.” Brian replaced the stack of mail that his landlady had left on his desk. “I think we need a break, without anybody looking over our shoulder. I see your efficient father had my Jeep delivered here. Let’s get the groceries and have a huge steak, a glass of wine, and a nice quiet ev
ening.”

  After the strain of the past few days, it sounded heavenly. They wandered through the grocery store, Brian pushing the basket while Malinche dropped in items: two sirloin steaks, a head of lettuce, a cucumber, mushrooms, onions, two baking potatoes. Brian was a steak-and-potatoes man.

  Such a comforting, domestic feeling engulfed her that the events of the past few days seemed to have happened to someone else. Tonight, she was determined to push all problems and fears aside and have a quiet evening with Brian. Or maybe it wouldn’t be so quiet, after all. Maybe he would drop his emotional barrier, or maybe she would be assertive and demand they talk about their relationship. The night stretched ahead with endless possibilities.

  Later, she popped the potatoes in the microwave and made the salad while Brian broiled the steaks. He seemed as content as she, although he did seem preoccupied. Was he still thinking about his discussion with her father? She knew Buck so well she was certain she knew what he’d said to Brian—he’d offered him a job if he returned her to Seattle. How would she feel, living in the lower forty-eight with Brian? It had lovely possibilities. Maybe she should forget her obsession with Dimitri and get on with her life.

  After dinner, they sat together on the sofa, his arm around her waist. Malinche let her head rest lightly on his shoulder. If she gave up the pursuit of Dimitri’s killer, what would happen between her and Brian? Her conflict was still here, eating a hole in her heart. She was no closer to coming to terms with her past than when she had first arrived in Alaska.

  She moved a hairbreadth away; instinctively, his arm tightened around her. Slowly, gently, he leaned over and kissed her, a gentle kiss that rapidly turned passionate, sending currents of heat all through her body. When he pulled away, he said huskily, “We need to talk.”

  Her heart raced. She hadn’t needed to force the issue. “Yes, we do.”

  “I think I’d better stay here tonight.”

  Something had changed. His voice held a hint of uneasiness. Disappointment lodged in her throat. That didn’t sound like the beginning of a declaration of love.

  “Still on guard duty?”

  “Maybe. Did you notice anything strange while we were driving to my apartment tonight, and then to the grocery store?”

  “No.” A chill ran down her spine. Suddenly the outside world had intruded on their intimate evening.

  “I didn’t want to alarm you until I was sure. I’d hoped they’d given up. But I’m positive someone is following us.”

  “But I didn’t see anyone.”

  “He’s a pro. He’s driving a gray sedan. I kept catching glimpses of him, and then I’d lose him. He knew enough to stay well back.”

  The fear, the sense of evil dogging their footsteps, rushed back all the more strongly for having been displaced for a few hours. Her familiar apartment was vulnerable. Shivering, she crowded closer to the warmth and comfort of Brian’s lean body. “Are—are you sure?”

  “He’s parked about a block up the street right now.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Malinche rushed to the window and pushed aside the drapes. About halfway up the next block a dusty gray sedan was parked neatly against the curb. Her heart plunged, all the terror of the past few days flooding back.

  Someone was keeping track of their every move. Buck’s surprise visit had made her feel more secure than she actually was.

  Brian came up behind her and gazed over her shoulder. She inched a little closer. The need to be near him wasn’t caused entirely by fear. Somehow she felt more—more herself—when their bodies touched.

  “Do you recognize him?”

  By the breadth of his shoulders, she could see that a man sat behind the wheel, but she was unable to make out his features. “No—he’s too far away.”

  “We’ll fix that.” Brian moved with the swiftness of a panther. He was out the door before Malinche could protest. Was he planning to confront the man? He had no idea of who he was or whether he was armed. It was the height of insanity, but there was nothing she could do to stop him. He was already out of sight among the bushes that fringed the backyard.

  She kept her eyes on the gray sedan, afraid its occupant would spot them. Thankfully, he seemed to suspect nothing. He shifted restlessly and laid his head back against the seat. If, as Brian said, he’d been following them for hours, he was probably bored and tired.

  She stiffened as Brian appeared, bent low and running behind a board fence several yards behind the car. Holding her breath, she saw him step out onto the sidewalk. He was strolling, head down, apparently immersed in thought. She saw his strategy. The watcher was parked where he could see her apartment. He wouldn’t expect anyone to come from a different direction. A casual passerby posed no threat.

  Brian was even with the front door of the vehicle, still ambling along. Suddenly he turned with lightninglike speed and swung open the door He grabbed the watcher by the back of his jacket and jerked him out onto the sidewalk.

  On his knees on the grass, the man gazed wildly up. Brian stood above him, hands clenched. Even taken off guard, the man was formidable. He scrambled to his feet and aimed a punch that, had it connected, would have sent Brian sprawling. Luckily, it glanced off Brian’s arm Brian aimed a right at the man’s jaw, hard enough to stagger him.

  But not for long. The man rushed back swinging, landing blows that shoved Brian back against the car.

  Paralyzed, Malinche watched the tableau Should she call the police? Long ago, in another world, that would have been her first response. Now such an action seemed naive at best.

  She bit her lip, feeling the blow herself, as the stranger slammed Brian up against the car; then she let out a long breath as Brian sent a shuddering blow to the man’s jaw. As far as she could tell, the battle was nearly equal.

  She couldn’t just stand there hiding behind the drapes! Picking up a heavy brass candlestick from the foyer table, she raced out the door and up the walk.

  By the time she reached them, the contest was over. Brian, breathing heavily, had the man pinned against the car and one arm twisted behind his back.

  “Here comes the cavalry.” One eye was swollen and there was blood on his lip, but he managed a jaunty grin.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Better off than he is. Let’s get this guy in the apartment where we can talk to him.”

  “Let me go!” The man twisted futilely against Brian’s grip.

  “Let you go? Not until we get a few answers.” Brian increased the pressure until the man winced with pain.

  Held captive by Brian’s firm grip on his arm, the man walked slowly toward the apartment. Malinche glanced around, hoping no one would come out asking questions, but they reached the door without interference.

  Brian shoved the man inside. “Don’t try anything. We’re going to get some answers.”

  The man rubbed his arm and gave Brian an angry glare. At close range, he didn’t look so intimidating. Probably in his early thirties, slim and fit, his close-cropped hair and erect posture gave the impression of military training, but his denims, flannel shirt and logger’s boots belied it.

  “Who are you? And why were you following us?” Brian’s stance was deceptively casual; he stood on the balls of his feet, his fists lightly curled.

  The man stared mutely back, his lips tightly compressed.

  “Come on, talk!”

  Coolly insolent, the man did not reply.

  Suddenly, like a spring released, Brian leaped across the room. He shoved the man roughly into a chair and glared down at him. “Listen to me. We’re not playing around. You’re not getting out of here until you talk, and it might get uncomfortable!”

  The man’s gaze wavered; he rubbed his arm, and fingered his jaw where the mark of Brian’s fist remained. Then he shrugged, his decision made. “Okay. I didn’t hire on to get beat up. He said it would be easy work. Just keep an eye on you and her and report in. If anything happened, I was to radio for help.”

 
“Radio who? Who in the hell are you? And who hired you?”

  “My name’s Smith. Jerry Smith. As to who hired me—” he nodded toward Malinche “—the little lady’s father.”

  “Dad! That can’t be true,” Malinche protested. “Why would he hire you to spy on us?”

  “I was just supposed to follow you, see to it that you didn’t get into trouble. He never said I’d have to fight a wildman.” He gave Brian a resentful glance.

  “I can’t believe this. He actually hired you to keep track of me?”

  “He said you were stubborn, and to keep out of sight. You’d be upset. Guess he was right.”

  “You sure wouldn’t have been much help if someone was threatening her,” Brian growled.

  “You were lucky. Or, maybe I was careless. If I’d have had a second longer, I’d have had a gun at your back.”

  “So, now what?” Brian’s grin wasn’t at all friendly. “What are you going to tell ‘Daddy’ now? That you blew it?”

  Smith scrutinized his boots carefully “I figure I won’t have to say anything. I haven’t hurt you guys. I can just keep watch, like I was doing. And you can pretend you never saw me.”

  “Why should we? We should turn you over to the police.”

  “The old man didn’t tell me much, but enough to make me doubt you’ll do that.”

  Brian glanced at Malinche. “What do you think? Is he telling the truth?”

  “Probably.” She sighed. “I was surprised when Dad left without putting up more of a fight. Maybe we should just let him go. Another set of eyes won’t hurt “

  Smith vaulted out of the chair, reaching for the doorknob.

  “Okay,” Brian said. “But remember, if we caught on to you, someone else could, too You’d better be more alert.”

  “You bet.” The door slammed behind him.

  Malinche swung between laughter and anger. Her fright had been for nothing, but she still felt the effects tingling along her skin. And Buck had a heck of a nerve. He had promised to let her live her own life. From the thunderous look on Brian’s face, he wasn’t happy with Buck, either.

 

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