Her voice lowered to a hushed whisper, “And you love me?”
“More than words can say.”
Looking at him, she said slowly, “I give you permission.”
“Permission for what?” he asked, feeling confused.
Nicole leaned toward him. “You said you’d never lay a romantic hand on me unless I gave you permission first. You’ve just been given it. You may kiss me, if you’d like.”
Zeke’s eyes gleamed behind his glasses. “No, I can’t.”
“Why not?” she asked in surprise.
“You aren’t ready to be kissed by me, and I’m not ready to kiss you,” he replied. “Our friendship needs to be firmly established before we introduce a romantic element into it.”
Blinking her eyes, she nodded slowly. “I suppose there’s wisdom in that, but it sure isn’t the response I was hoping for.”
A grin tugged the corners of his mouth. “It’s not exactly the response I wanted to give, but I don’t want to mess this up. Besides, your bikini packs quite a punch—I think I’d have trouble keeping my hands to myself if we started necking.”
“Zeke Masters! I’m shocked at you!”
“No, you’re not.” He laughed. “Admit it. You knew exactly how that bikini was going to affect me, didn’t you?” When she giggled, he said, “You’re a minx, you know it?”
“You’re one to talk, Mr. I-Have-To-Take-Off-My-Shirt-To-Chop-Wood. You knew exactly how the sight of your muscles all glistening with sweat was going to affect me.”
He chuckled. “We’ve both been as bad as a couple of peacocks fanning out their tails, haven’t we?”
“I did want to grab your attention,” she admitted, lying down on her beach towel.
“And I wanted to grab yours.” Zeke smiled, stretching out beside her.
Zeke watched as Nicole flipped onto her side and faced him. Pillowing her head on her arm, she started playing with a loose thread on his beach towel. Turning on his side, he began tracing the pattern on hers. Their eyes met and held.
“We’re going to be very good friends,” he murmured.
“I know,” she replied softly. “And later?”
This time he spoke the words. “And later, much more than that.”
They looked into each other’s eyes—fingers almost touching but not quite—and felt content.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
The echoing silence in the TEMCO lab was broken by the rat-tat-tat of Crystal’s typing. A lock of blonde hair slid down and tickled her nose as she studied a printout. Determined to make her bun secure, she grabbed a pencil and pierced the knot.
Taking a sip of strong coffee, she removed her owlish glasses and rubbed her eyes. She didn’t mind working alone, but it made it hard to stay awake. Yawning behind her hand, she turned up the golden oldies playing on the radio. She loved big band music. It always seemed to bring with it the joy of simpler times. It reminded her of women in white gloves and men in suits. Cupping her chin in her hand, she sighed. Marc looked marvelous in a suit.
Impatiently tossing the printout aside, Crystal jumped to her feet and started to pace. Thinking about Marc wasn’t doing her a lick of good. She had a greater chance of walking on the moon than of becoming his girlfriend. Hunky guys like Marc didn’t date girls like her. Facts were facts.
Pushing Marc forcibly from her brain, Crystal leaned over and touched her toes. She didn’t care how ergonomic the lab chairs were supposed to be—they still killed her back. She looked over at her computer screen. GAP had been quiet all night. Crystal gave her monitor a pat. She felt more comfortable around computers than people. She always knew what a computer was going to do—people were far less predictable.
GAP began to beep.
Crystal jumped. Mentally readjusting her ideas about the predictably of computers, she studied the screen. It indicated an unscheduled transmission. She quickly prepared the Staging Platform, and within seconds, a blue wave shimmered up and congealed into an established portal. She blinked rapidly when she saw who was standing in Nicki’s living room.
“Drake!” she cried in happy surprise. “I’m so relieved to see you! We thought you were dead…” Her words stumbled to a stop as she spotted blood on his face. “Hey, are you okay?”
“I’m injured.” He groaned. “I need medical aid.”
“I’ll get you help as soon as you arrive.” Her fingers flew over her keyboard. “Have you seen Director Matthews or Dr. Nelson? They’ve gone missing.”
“No,” Drake replied. “I was held in a cell. Just managed to escape.”
“I can’t believe you’re alive!” she exclaimed. “There was this awful picture of—”
“Cris, I’m about to pass out. Can we sort this out later?”
“Sure, I’m sorry,” she said, looking over her shoulder as she typed the last sequence. “Come on through—I’m ready to receive you.”
There was a flash of light as Drake stepped through the portal and collapsed on the floor.
Sprinting across the room, Crystal helped him to a chair. “Who did this to you?”
“I don’t know.” He groaned. “I was kept in total darkness.”
“Well, you’re safe now,” she said, gently wiping blood from his face. “Give me a sec, and I’ll call an ambulance. Thomas is already at the hospital—he can debrief you there.”
Drake grabbed her wrist. “Why is Dr. Moosly at the hospital?”
Crystal winced. “Drake, you’re hurting me! Let go!”
“Sorry,” he muttered, giving her a charming smile and releasing his grip. “I’m a bit unglued.”
“That’s okay,” she said, rubbing her bruised wrist.
“So, what’s been happening around here?” he asked. “Is Gil all right? She’d just had her baby when I left. I was worried about her.”
“You had a right to be,” Crystal said, checking the dilation of his eyes to see if he had a concussion. “She ended up having heart surgery. Dan hasn’t left her side.”
“Is the baby okay?” Drake asked quietly.
“Jay’s fine, and so is Gil. She’ll be released from the hospital tomorrow morning.”
“That’s wonderful news. So, Dr. Moosly’s visiting them? That’s why he’s at the hospital?”
Crystal nodded. “He’s also checking on Phoebe.”
“Phoebe’s back home?” Drake’s eyes flickered. “What a relief! She disappeared on me. I wasn’t sure where she’d gotten to.”
“I’m sorry,” Crystal said, handing him a tissue for his bloody nose. “I should’ve told you about Phoebe first. Concern for your partner has probably been eating you alive.”
“It has been preying on my mind,” he murmured.
She gave his hand a compassionate squeeze. “Well, let me set your mind at rest. Phoebe was badly hurt, but she’ll be fine. She’s in room 413. I’ve tried to visit her, but she’s not allowed visitors yet. However, since you’re her partner, the hospital staff will probably make an exception in your case.”
“I’m sure they will,” he purred.
* * *
Dusky twilight filled the forest sky as Nicole watched Zeke stirring up the fire.
“Do you want another hotdog?” he asked as the wood snapped merrily.
Groaning, she tossed her paper plate into the flames. “I can’t eat another bite. My last s’more was pure gluttony.”
He smiled. “Then how about some entertainment?”
She watched with frank curiosity as Zeke took a quilt-wrapped bundle from their pile of supplies. The day had been full of happy surprises, and she prepared herself for one more. She gave a delighted chuckle when the quilt opened and revealed a guitar.
“I knew your fingers were musical!” she crowed. “I knew it the minute I drew your hands.”
Smiling, Zeke raised his fingers to his ear. “Musical? I don’t hear anything.”
She wadded up a napkin and tossed it at him. “You know what I mean! Your fingers are artistic.”
H
e spread out his hand. “Artistic? I don’t see—”
Laughing, Nicole tossed another napkin his way. “Hamball!”
Zeke chuckled. Shoving his glasses further up on his nose, he patted the ground beside him. “Come here, Nicole. Sit by me.”
Without hesitation, she quickly sat by his side. “I love the guitar. I’m glad you play.”
Firelight flickered over Zeke’s face. “Music was the only good thing my father brought into my life. I don’t have many happy memories of him, but he did teach me how to play the guitar.”
Seeing the sadness in his face, Nicole scooted closer and put her head on his shoulder to offer silent comfort.
Stars began sprinkling through the heavens as he wrapped his arms around her and murmured against her hair, “We’ve worked together and played together—I think worshiping together would be a great way to end our day.”
“Me too,” she whispered.
Smiling, Zeke gently let her go. She sat in wordless anticipation as he tuned his guitar. When he began to play, she sighed in contentment. He was superb. She knew he would be.
She listened intently as Zeke sang a praise song—his voice was strong and sure. During the chorus, she joined in, enjoying the sound of their voices mingling in the firelight. Their collective worship spiraled up with the sparks of the fire and seemed to spin out toward the stars. A few songs later, a holy presence filled their campsite. Nicole stopped singing, letting the presence of God envelop her like a blanket. A hush fell over the forest.
Zeke sighed and closed his eyes. “Precious Heavenly Father, we acknowledge Your presence here tonight. As Nicole and I grow closer, we ask You to be an active part of our friendship—and later of our love. Be close to us, Father. Help us walk together as You would have us walk. We invite You into our relationship at its beginning, asking You to be its strong foundation.”
When Zeke began singing another praise song, Nicole sat quietly and thought about his prayer. It had touched her deeply. She realized that in all of her previous romances, God’s presence was the one thing that had been lacking. She always dated Christian men, but none of them had prayed with her. She wondered why that had never troubled her. She knew the close relationship she’d eventually have with her husband would be the most significant relationship of her life. The union between a husband and wife was to be an echoing symbol of the union of Christ with His church. Knowing the importance of the marital relationship, it was fitting to ask God to be its foundation right from the start.
Nicole peeked at Zeke’s face. The firelight was touching his features with its soft glow. Looking at him with newly opened eyes of love, even his nose—that awful, horrible nose—suddenly seemed dear. Zeke was an unusual man, but he was just the right man for her. He was God’s man…and someday, she knew he’d be her man too.
Closing her eyes, Nicole focused on worshiping God. Her voice mingled with Zeke’s and echoed through the forest. The fire crackled and popped. The stars shone down. And all around, God’s loving presence pressed close.
* * *
Drake sat completely still as Crystal finished wiping the blood from his forehead. Her touch was tender. She smelled like apple blossoms.
“I’m sorry you’ve been hurt,” she murmured, carefully inspecting the welt around his neck. “Whoever did this to you was a monster.”
Drake’s eyes flew to her face. Her brown eyes were full of compassion.
“You’ve been through something awful,” she said, “but don’t worry, it’s over now. I’ll take care of everything.”
Drake blinked as she smoothed back his hair and squeezed his hand. He allowed his fingers to slowly wrap around hers.
Pulling away, she turned to the phone. “I need to call an ambulance. They’ll—”
She continued talking, but he stopped listening. She had pulled away. That was all he needed to know. His eyes turned cold. She was just another TEMCO clone. His jaw tightened as he rose slowly to his feet.
“Just give me a sec,” she said, leaning over her computer. “Before I call, I need to turn off the Staging Platform and dissipate the timewave.”
Drake walked silently toward her. His eyes began burning in their sockets.
“I think you might have a broken nose,” she said, tapping at her keyboard, “but hopefully that’s the extent of your injuries. Regardless, we can’t be too careful. You may have internal—”
Picking up a heavy stapler, he slammed it against the back of her skull. Crystal crumpled to the floor. Blood began pooling around her head. Drake kicked her violently in the ribs. She didn’t move. Grabbing her feet, he dragged her into the file room.
* * *
Outside the factory, Laura felt Peter faltering against her side. Stumbling, he fell to his knees in a patch of weeds. “Are you okay?” she asked, helping him to his feet.
“Fine, love. Just a bit dizzy.” His voice was weak. “Can you open the gap in the fence so I can squeeze through?”
Nodding, she held back the wire. Peter ducked and stumbled through. On the other side, he tripped and fell on his face.
“Peter!” she shouted, scrambling through the hole and kneeling by his side.
“I’m fine,” he mumbled, crawling to his knees. “Do you remember where we hid the keys?”
Biting her lip so hard that it bled, Laura ran to the car and retrieved the keys. Opening the passenger door, she looked over her shoulder. Peter was crawling through the weeds—the socks on his wrists were bright spots of red in a sea of brown leaves. Going to him and ducking under his arm, she helped him to his feet.
His head lolled on her shoulder. “I’m driving,” he murmured.
“What?” Her voice was shrill. “Peter Mitchell Matthews, just what do you think you’re—”
His laughter cut her off. “Oh, Laura, you’re so fun to tease.”
She looked at him sternly. Blood was seeping through the bandages on his forehead. His skin had a greenish cast. He looked ghastly. “You always were a clown,” she muttered, “even in college. But this isn’t the time or place for your jokes.”
“When is?” He laughed again.
“Well, not when you’re bleeding to death!” she snapped.
“Afraid you’re going to be a widow before you take the vows?” he asked.
She refused to smile. “Peter, this is serious.”
“I know,” he said quietly, “but you’ve got to make your spots of joy in this life, and I plan on enjoying every—”
Suddenly, his knees buckled. Laura whimpered and tried to keep his head from hitting the side of the car. His body went limp. His eyes rolled in their sockets.
“Peter!” she cried, shaking his shoulder.
He didn’t answer.
Choking back tears, she manhandled him into the car and buckled him into the passenger seat. Running to the driver’s side, she clipped the Scan Emitter to her jeans and started the car. She drove as quickly as she could without speeding. She knew she looked dreadful, and her appearance would raise more questions than she had time to answer if she were pulled over by the police.
She looked at Peter’s wrists. Blood was oozing through the socks and dripping onto the seat. Little snakes of panic rose up and started wrapping around her heart.
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
Drake jiggled the doorknob of Dan’s office. It opened at his touch. He smiled. Before his life had been stolen by TEMCO, he had worked at his father’s security firm. He knew all about locks and how to get around them.
Shoving Dan’s bookcase aside, he studied the safe’s electronic keypad. With bated breath, he entered the code: 2-5-9-3-7-9-5-2-1-4. The red light above the keypad turned green. The safe opened beneath his fingers.
Tossing a stack of folders to the floor, Drake uncovered the locked box that was cemented to the bottom of the safe. With shaking hands, he inserted the key and lifted the lid.
The box was empty.
Hissing with disbelief, Drake went insane with rage. He threw the key
across the room and tore books from the bookshelves. He overturned two filing cabinets and upended Dan’s desk. A first aid kit fell from a drawer and broke open, sending a bottle of rubbing alcohol rolling across the floor. Grabbing it, Drake began dousing a pile of books and setting them on fire with his lighter. Flames roared up in an angry spiral.
“I’ll burn it down,” he muttered, splashing the remaining alcohol around the room. “Burn it all down, and burn Crystal with it.”
He watched as fire surged up the walls and over the ceiling. Feeling heat scorching his face, he turned on his heel. His mind began spinning out new plans. He’d go to the hospital and make Phoebe wish she’d died in the factory. Then he’d go to Dan and Gil and make them pay. One of them knew where the Wave Trapper was hidden. He’d torture their baby until they told. When they were all dead, he’d use the Wave Trapper to get back what they’d stolen. Flames reflected in his eyes. His mission wasn’t destroyed—just delayed—and he was patient. Very patient. He knew how to get what he wanted.
Smoke bellowed out and followed him as he walked down the corridor. He looked over his shoulder at the lab—he hoped Crystal was conscious when the flames reached her. He hoped it hurt.
* * *
Laura pulled into Nicki’s driveway. Her heart tightened in fear when she saw the living room lights blazing against the darkness. “Stay here, Peter,” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt.
“Wait!” he hissed, grabbing her arm. “Drake’s pickup is parked in the street. He could be inside.”
Looking at Peter’s bloody wrists, she choked back a sob. “Well, we can’t just sit here! Stay put while I see what’s going on.”
“Laura, no! It’s too dangerous!”
Pulling away from his hand, she sprinted to the house. The front door was hanging crookedly by one hinge. She put her hand on the splintered wood, trying to coax the door open. The mangled hinge snapped, sending the door crashing to the floor.
Her heart lodged in her throat. After that racket, if Drake was inside, he knew she was coming. Crouching into a fighter’s stance, she raised her hands to protect her face. Her eyes flickered, studying the shadows for movement.
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