Under The Midnight Sun

by Marilyn Cunningham

  “So, ‘Daddy’ to the rescue.” Brian threw himself down into the chair Smith had just vacated. He knew Malinche didn’t deserve his sarcasm; it wasn’t her doing. But when he remembered the urgency with which Buck had asked him to protect her, he blazed with anger. To think he had actually been flattered. The man had manipulated him; he hadn’t trusted him at all.

  Malinche flushed. Brian was being completely unreasonable—not unusual for him! Still, she replied evenly. “He’s always been overly protective. It’s a habit he can’t seem to break.”

  “I wonder who else he has roaming around keeping track of you. I’d like to know before I beat up another innocent guy.”

  “Well, he doesn’t believe in doing things halfway.”

  “Great. So, now we won’t know whether the bad guys or your bodyguards are after us. It adds a bit of spice to the situation.”

  “You needn’t be so sarcastic. Dad was just concerned about me. It’s nothing to get your ego in an uproar over. Maybe he was right—”

  “He was right about one thing! You should go on home. Where he can keep an eye on you.”

  “I certainly don’t intend to do that, no matter what either of you say!”

  Brian saw the determination on her face. She didn’t know when to call it quits, a dangerous habit to have. But she was no longer his responsibility. With a father like Buck Adams who probably had bodyguards stationed behind every tree, she didn’t need Brian. Not to protect her.

  Not for anything else, either. His heart sank as his dreams slipped away. He’d been right about her all along. She might say she wanted to be her own person, but she was glad Buck was involved. The best he could do for her was to persuade her to go home.

  “Don’t be so darn stubborn. Look at the trouble you’ve got into so far, and the trouble you got everyone else into.” That wasn’t entirely fair. He’d gotten himself into this by finding Dimitri’s body, but he wasn’t going to say so.

  “You promised—”

  “You don’t need me. If you won’t go home, just call ‘Daddy’ if you get in more trouble. Who knows how many men he has looking out for you.”

  If he sounded bitter, he couldn’t help it. What really rankled was the feeling Buck had made a fool of him, didn’t value him at all. He had promised to take care of her, given his word, which he didn’t give lightly. Buck had only pretended to trust him. He would always be hovering over Malinche, and she wouldn’t complain. With the arrogance of power and money, he had taken the matter into his own hands, showed Brian he considered him worse than useless.

  It hurt that it was fine with Malinche. She was accustomed to having her father smooth over the rough spots. If ever Brian hoped he might have a future with Malinche, this showed he had been a fool. She would never have to commit herself to anything. When things got rough, she need only lift the phone and Adams would come running to the rescue. She could play house until she got bored, then return to the life-style that was her heritage.

  “Brian, don’t be-upset. I know he sometimes goes overboard, but he loves me. It has nothing to do with you.”

  Her soft voice was entirely too persuasive; it made him even angrier. “It has everything to do with me. I’m not in his league. You are. So, why don’t you go on home where you belong and make everybody happy? Get out of my hair.”

  Stung nearly to tears, she lashed back. “And you know where I belong? How marvelous—that’s more than I know. For a while I thought we belonged together. Was our lovemaking just to pass the time? As for not being in Buck’s league, if you can ignore what happened between us, if you can say you’d be happy if I left, maybe you’re not in his league. Buck would never let anybody down.”

  “I’m not letting you down. You’ll be safe—you have plenty of backup.”

  She took a long deep breath to steady herself. How could she have been so wrong about Brian? He actually sounded jealous of Buck, but not because of her. Because he felt he’d been dismissed.

  “All right,” she said slowly, her shoulders sagging in defeat. “I know I started all this. You said from the beginning you didn’t want to be involved—with Dimitri—or me. But there in the cave there were times when I thought—differently.”

  “Look, Malinche, I don’t want you to misunderstand. Making love with you was the most wonderful experience of my life. I’ll always treasure it. But we both knew it was a fantasy world. Everything was colored, made more intense, by the danger we were in. We’re back in the real world, now. And it isn’t the same. We’re as far apart as two people can be. Whatever you believe that you feel now, it’ll change the minute you go back to the life Buck made for you. You couldn’t handle the kind of life I lead.”

  He wished her soft underlip wouldn’t tremble so. He loved her more than anything, even his own life, and he was making her miserable. But it was better for both of them in the long run.

  She drew herself up to her full height, and gave him a long level look. All her pride, all her anger was in that look. She was her father’s daughter. “If that’s the way you feel, you’d better go.”

  “I—”

  “Now.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it, and let himself out the door. There was a bottle of whisky in his kitchen cabinet. He wasn’t a drinker, but tonight looked like a perfect time to begin. He would try anything to blot her out of his mind. And the way he had acted toward her. He knew why he’d picked a fight, of course. She was getting too close.

  He glanced at the gray sedan. It was still parked along the curb. Apparently Smith, if that was his name, didn’t fancy telling Buck Adams that he had been found out. He was still on the lookout. That was good. He could leave with a clear conscience. If someone threatened Malinche tonight, Smith would stop him. The man would be more careful and not be caught napping after what Brian had put him through.

  Malinche didn’t go to the window to watch Brian drive away. She wasn’t sure her pride and resolve would stretch that far. Tears rolled slowly down her cheeks; she didn’t brush them away, knowing they came as much from anger as sorrow—anger at herself that she had nearly pleaded with him to stay, sorrow that the glimpse of his broad shoulders, his long legs, his easy grace, was the last she would see of him. Ever. Thank God she had found her pride before she made an absolute fool of herself.

  Knowing this was the way it had to be helped some. Deep down, she had always known she had no future with Brian, although she had allowed herself to hope. But face it—a man who can’t bring himself to admit he loves you is no prize.

  But it wrenched her soul to watch him walk out of her life. She knew she loved him. In spite of everything, she loved him. But love isn’t enough, not when two people are as different as she and Brian.

  What should she do now? She couldn’t just sit here in this chair, letting waves of depression wash over her. She had to think, make a plan, come to a decision. But that could wait until tomorrow. She lowered her head into her hands and sobbed.

  THE MAN IN the dark van halfway down the block hung his earphones on a hook, and smiled. It was a smug, self-satisfied smile that those who knew him had learned to dread. After a less than auspicious start, things were going just fine.

  He’d taken great pains to be inconspicuous. This was the kind of neighborhood where a strange automobile might be noticed. He had located a house where the owners would be gone for a couple of weeks, and parked in the driveway, partially screened by trees.

  The sounds of their voices had come through loud and strong, and why shouldn’t they? He was an expert at bugging houses, and his equipment was state-of-the-art. He had wired both apartments while Malinche and Brian were out. It could detect a whisper a mile away. He smiled when he thought of old Adams going out of the house to make a call, suspecting that both apartments were wired. He guessed Adams had made his call from a hotel room, but it didn’t really matter. He had heard as much as he needed to.

  He’d learned all he needed to know, and he still shook wh
en he realized how close he’d come to disaster. He’d had so many chances to kill her, and she had survived every one. She had more lives than a cat! Or maybe he was losing his touch after years of easy success. No one, not even the devil himself, should have been able to escape that ice floe.

  It didn’t matter, though, not in the long run. He had the dragon, and they never would have found out anything from the envelope. Even Buck Adams couldn’t, with all his connections.

  And now the boyfriend was stalking off in a huff. Not that he could trust him to stay away. Fools in love were unpredictable. He’d have to see to it that Kennedy wasn’t around to mess things up more than he already had.

  The odds were that she’d pack up and go home. Unfortunately, he couldn’t be sure even then that he would be safe. If she ever started thinking, putting two and two together, remembering…

  His lips parted in a wolfish grin, as he remembered how Kennedy had slammed that worthless bodyguard against the side of the car. He’d expected Adams to have someone guarding her, and Kennedy had led him right to the man. He’d thought the guard might be the man in the gray car and Kennedy’s assault had convinced him. He’d wait a few minutes and then go over and fix it so he’d never spy on anyone again. Another problem gone.

  Placing the earphones on again, he heard the muffled sound of sobs, a chair scraping on a floor, then the sound of a rushing shower. Getting ready for bed—she wouldn’t be going anywhere for several hours. It would give him plenty of time to take care of the Kennedy matter. Who knew how much she’d told him? And then, he would take care of her, once and for all…

  Chapter Fifteen

  Joe Pasco didn’t rise when Brian entered his office. Barricaded behind his polished walnut desk, he didn’t jump up to grasp Brian’s hand as he usually did. Brian wondered if he was still angry because he had slugged him for the comment about Malinche. Their relationship had been strained in the past few days, but Brian still couldn’t bring himself to believe the worst about his boss.

  Pasco seemed ill at ease, shifting in his seat, fiddling with a pen that Brian knew he rarely used. He used his computer to write; the pen took the place of worry beads.

  “Hi, Joe, what’s new?”

  Pasco finally looked at him, a scowl on his face. When he spoke, his voice dripped sarcasm. “Well, hello, Brian. Glad you could make it in today.” He made a show of consulting his watch. “Let’s see. I left several messages last night, each one asking you to call me as soon as you got in. It’s now 9:00 a.m.”

  “Isn’t that our normal starting time?” Brian crossed the room and flopped down in a chair, his smile as innocent as he could make it. He had considered answering the calls, but he hadn’t been in the mood to handle Joe Pasco. Not with Malinche on his mind.

  He’d tossed and turned all night, barely able to keep from rushing back and telling her he’d made a horrible mistake. He admitted to himself that he’d been too sensitive about Buck. So the man had hedged his bet, hired others to protect her, too. It made sense. If he, himself, had so easily disarmed one sentry, others could do it, too.

  Mostly though, rational thought had nothing to do with it. He ached, he burned, he longed to sink into the velvet of her body, feel her respond like tinder to a match. No matter what happened in the future.

  He hadn’t gone back, though. He suspected she’d see right through him and realize he still had his doubts about any kind of permanent relationship. She’d know he wasn’t expecting forever after. And she’d made it clear she wouldn’t accept half measures.

  “Besides,” he said, jerking his attention back to Joe, “I’m still on vacation, remember?”

  Joe didn’t smile back. Pouches under his eyes marked his olive skin, and a dark stubble covered his jaw. His white shirt was wrinkled. Had he slept at all?

  “I remember that you’re on vacation.” Pasco rubbed his hand wearily across his chin. “I’m surprised you remember. You don’t act much like a man relaxing.”

  “So, what’s so urgent?” Brian crossed his legs at the ankles and tipped the chair back, his thumbs thrust in the pockets of his denims. He knew his mode of dress irritated Joe; Pasco considered them out of place in the office. Brian had chosen them deliberately. He was no happier with his boss than Joe was happy with him. Pasco had some explaining to do. Why had he followed them to Kotzebue, among other things?

  Pasco didn’t reply directly. “What time did you get back in Anchorage?”

  “Oh, late afternoon, I guess. Were you the one who arranged the welcoming committee?”

  “So, Buck Adams found you. He was pretty upset when he found out what his daughter was doing.”

  “But somebody had to tell him, didn’t they? He didn’t fly up on a whim. Malinche thought it could have been any number of people. I thought it was you.”

  “Jim Wilson thought Adams should be informed,” Joe said stiffly. “Too bad Adams didn’t just bundle her up and get her out of here. It would have saved a lot of trouble.”

  “I don’t worry too much about saving people trouble.” Brian’s lip tightened dangerously. “Any more than someone has been concerned about saving me trouble.”

  “You’re causing it yourself,” Joe retorted. “And now you’ve gone beyond the point where I can help you.”

  “Help me! Is that what you’ve been doing, trailing me all through Alaska? Refusing to tell me what’s going on? It seems more like spying to me.”

  “Well, I was trying to help, no matter what you think. If you hadn’t been so stubborn, this would have been settled long ago. I warned you to stay out of this Stanislof thing, but you wouldn’t listen. Now it’s out of my hands.”

  Brian leaned forward. “About this ‘Stanislof thing—’”

  “It doesn’t matter now. You’re out of it,” Pasco snapped. “You’ve been transferred.”

  “Transferred!” It wasn’t the first time a transfer had been threatened by the higher-ups. Brian was too independent to be a team player, but he was stunned by the timing, and Pasco’s agreement. Usually Pasco pulled every string he could to keep Brian where he wanted to be—in Alaska. The suddenness and finality of this order was completely unexpected.

  “Isn’t this a little sudden? When am I expected to leave?”

  Pasco refused to meet his eyes. “As of now you are no longer attached to the Anchorage office. You’ll leave here and go directly to the airport.” He drew a sheaf of papers from his desk. “Here are the tickets. We’ve made reservations for you on the flight to Djakarta.”

  “Indonesia! Right now? It’s ridiculous to think I’m going at all, but to expect me to leave on such short notice is insane!”

  Pasco spoke as though he were reciting a prepared speech. “Everything will be taken care of. Your belongings will be shipped, or sold if you prefer. But you will leave immediately.”

  “Like hell I will!” Brian leaped to his feet and planted his hands on the desk. Pasco shrunk back from the fury in his eyes. “What are you trying to pull?”

  “Brian, it’s the best thing for you,” Pasco said, a pleading note in his voice. “You wouldn’t drop it—”

  “I thought so! I wouldn’t voluntarily drop the Stanislof thing, and now you’re leaning on me to make sure I do. I wouldn’t have expected it of you Joe—we’ve been friends—”

  “And still are. That’s why I advise you to be on that plane. This goes way above me—”

  “How far?” Brian pounded his fist on the table. “Wilson? The head office?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  “What about Malinche? How are you going to get rid of her?”

  “She’s not our concern. Universal Oil doesn’t employ Miss Adams,” Pasco replied. “She would have been smart to go home with her father. Since she didn’t, she’ll have to look after herself.”

  “Do you know how heartless that sounds? You know about the attempts that have been made on her life?”

  “Damn it, Brian!” Pasco jumped up from his chair and pac
ed the room. “I did all I could do to protect you! Do you think I like this? You act like this is a game, you poke around, somebody slaps your hands. It’s not a game. I know where some of the pressure is coming from, and I can tell you this much, it’s nobody I want to mess around with.”

  “I refuse the transfer.”

  “You have no choice,” Pasco said quietly. “You will leave here immediately, and you will contact no one. It’s the best deal I could get for you, Brian. If you don’t go, if you decide to go home, I’m not sure you’ll even make it that far. Take the transfer.”

  “No. I don’t work for Universal Oil anymore. I quit.”

  “Brian, think.” Pasco leaned toward him, eyes desperate. “Even if they let you live, they’ll see that you never work in the oil industry again.”

  “I can always get a cabin out in the bush and shoot moose. See you around, Joe.”

  He turned on his heel, glancing back over his shoulder. Pasco was back behind his desk, face gray, looking utterly defeated. Perhaps Pasco really had fought the transfer. It was a sobering thought. If the best Pasco could do was ship him to Indonesia, he had better watch his back.

  He took the stairs two at a time. He was still stunned. An hour ago his life was predictable enough. Now, he was unemployed, without a clue as to what to do next.

  When Pasco had told him he was to leave without contacting anyone, he had thought first of Malinche. More than thought of her. She had filled his mind, driving out every other concern. To get on a plane, not even say goodbye—it wasn’t only ridiculous, it was impossible. Unthinkable.

  He rushed out the double doors, looking right and left for anyone who might be lurking in the parking lot. Pasco had hinted he might be attacked before he got home. He felt like a target, darting among the parked cars. He’d never see the assassins if they were here in a vehicle, until they followed him. Or shot him now from the anonymity of a car. Hair prickled on the back of his neck as he hopped in his Jeep. He didn’t think in terms of evil auras, as the old shaman did, but he felt something inimical in the air. The killer wouldn’t be far away.