She looked over her shoulder at the closed bathroom door.
Or had he come back for her, like he’d said in his note?
Her heartbeat rising, she stepped across the carpet to the bathroom door and leaned her head against it. Beyond, she could hear Finn under the water, and imagined the droplets flowing over his body.
A shiver of desire travelled down her spine, and then she jumped back as the door moved inwards under her weight.
Steam escaped into the living area, the creaking extractor fan a poor match for the temperature in the small bathroom. Beyond the steamed up shower door, Kate saw Finn standing with his back to her, his palms against the tiled wall as he let the jets of water cascade over his head.
She moved closer, her heart hammering, her mind screaming at her to walk away, to turn and go before he broke her heart like the others before him.
She ignored the doubts clouding her mind, remembering his touch on her skin. Slipping out of her jeans, she unbuttoned her blouse and let it fall to the floor. She took a deep breath and opened the door to the cubicle.
Finn’s eyes blazed when he saw her, his initial look of surprise turning to lust in an instant.
Kate bit her bottom lip, suddenly unsure of herself as the steam escaped and swirled over her skin. She gazed at Finn’s body as he turned towards her, and then blushed as she looked up and met his eyes.
He ran his fingers through his hair to slick it back off of his face, and then held out his hand.
‘Come here,’ he said. ‘The water’s perfect.’
She stepped towards him, into his arms, the heat from his body enveloping her. She closed her eyes and groaned as he tipped her head gently backwards, then began kissing her throat, her neck, down to her collarbone, then raised his head.
‘I thought I’d lost you,’ he murmured, his palm cupping her cheek.
She shook her head, felt tears pricking her eyes. ‘You didn’t lose me, Finn – you rescued me, remember?’
He smiled, reached around and undid her bra, letting it fall to the floor.
She saw the hunger in his eyes as he pulled her closer, slipped his fingers under the lace of her panties and slid them down her thighs.
‘I don’t think you’re going to need these.’
Kate groaned as he pushed her against the tiled wall of the shower cubicle. She wrapped her arms around his neck and raised her lips to his, tasting him, nibbling at his tongue as it sought out her warmth.
She closed her eyes and moaned as his lips worked their way south, and cried out as he took each nipple in turn, caressing her breasts while the water pounded against their soaked bodies.
She felt his hand cup her jaw, and opened her eyes to meet his gaze.
‘I’m not letting you out of my sight ever again,’ he murmured. ‘You okay with that?’
She nodded, running her fingers over his chest, feeling him shiver with desire under her touch. She worked her hands down his body until she could grasp the whole of him, pulling him closer until she could feel the firmness against her stomach.
His groan resounded off the tiles, and she felt him stagger slightly, before he gently pushed her back, then slid his hands under her thighs and lifted her to him.
As their bodies began to move, Kate closed her eyes and let the water stream over her face.
***
‘Steve told me about his daughter,’ said Kate. ‘I’m so sorry, Finn.’
She heard him move across the sheets, and then sigh, his breath moving a stray hair over her face.
He gently brushed it away, and Kate closed her eyes, waiting for the explosion.
‘And I’m sorry,’ he said.
She opened her eyes and lifted her head to look at him.
He smiled. ‘I’m sorry I was an asshole earlier.’
Her lips met his. ‘You’re forgiven. It must be incredibly hard to talk about.’
He nodded. ‘I should try practicing once in a while.’ He shifted his weight and pulled her closer. ‘Especially when someone I care about asks me.’
Kate rested her cheek on his chest, saying nothing, soaking up his scent, his touch.
‘I think Cynthia’s truly remorseful about what she did to you,’ Finn said. ‘She’s going to regret it for the rest of her life.’
‘And what do you think?’
He pulled her down towards him.
‘I think you’re going to be okay.’
35
Northumbria
Three months later
Kate lowered the binoculars from her eyes and squinted in the bright sunshine.
‘Well, I can’t see him.’
‘Over there. To the left of the tree line. Follow it until you see a flash of white.’
She frowned and looked again. ‘Got him.’
‘Easy mistake to make. He can’t resist looking for us, when he should be keeping his head down instead.’
Kate turned to Finn and smiled. ‘Go get ’em.’
He grinned, reached out and tipped her chin towards him, before kissing her tenderly. ‘I’ll be back in time for lunch.’
She laughed and pushed him away. ‘Just remember to play nice, okay?’
He waved to her over his shoulder, and then got into the four wheel drive next to Steve, and the vehicle bounced away down the hillside.
She smiled, and decided to watch the take-down, even though she knew the men’s routine almost as well as they did.
The four wheel drive reached the bottom of the hill, then turned into the field and raced across to the line of birch and oak trees which formed a natural boundary between the fallow land and a river.
A second four wheel drive powered across the opposite end of the field towards the trees, while a small boat chugged along the river.
Kate smiled. It was cruel, but Finn and Steve had deliberately led the executives to believe that only two men would be hunting them. Instead, they’d decided to make the experience as realistic as possible, knowing the men would learn valuable lessons from it.
The executives they were hunting had booked onto the course to prepare for a trip they were planning to central Africa to raise money for a charity. At the charity’s insistence, the course had to be undertaken as part of the volunteers’ preparation before entering the country.
Kate raised the binoculars to her eyes. Fascinated, she watched the three men make the choices that would define how Finn and Steve would approach each of their ‘interrogations’.
The first burst out of the undergrowth with his hands in the air, clearly tired of the whole process. A smile stole across Kate’s lips. The man had already marked himself out to Finn and Steve after the classroom session the previous day, where he’d slouched in his seat, an arm slung across the back of it and a look of disinterest across his face.
She shook her head. She knew the men would frighten the executive into trying harder not to get caught the second time around.
The other two executives quickly disappeared amongst the trees, but forgot about the river. Within minutes, the boat was alongside them, the man in it crouched and ready with a rifle aimed at one of them. Each man put his hands in the air and fell to their knees as the second four wheel drive emptied its passengers and four armed men encircled the remaining executives.
She lowered the binoculars and made her way back to her vehicle, then drove down the track towards the farmhouse. She avoided the part of the building where the mock interrogations took place. It still chilled her that she’d been so close to losing her life three months ago.
Instead, she made her way through the farmhouse, past the kitchen where caterers were busy finalising the lunch which would be set out in a few hours, and entered the office.
Steve had been adamant about Finn taking over the company and, after a lot of persuasion, managed to convince him it was the right thing to do.
In turn, Finn had pointed out that Kate no longer had a job – or an employer – and if the business was going to build on its success, i
t needed a decent business development manager to oversee it.
In the end, the three of them had agreed that Steve would take a back seat on the day-to-day running of the business, while Finn ran the operations side and Kate managed the sales.
Between them, they’d quickly built up an impressive client list and were now in a position where the diary was booked up months in advance by journalists, aid workers, and volunteer organisations.
Kate sank into the leather bound chair behind her desk and began sifting through the morning’s paperwork. Two weeks ago, she’d admitted defeat and had taken on a part-time administrator to help her, but force of habit meant that she still kept a keen eye on the office administration.
The back door to the farmhouse slammed shut and muffled shouts echoed down the flagstone passageway as, one by one, the ‘hostages’ were brought in and taken into individual rooms.
Kate leaned over and switched on her favourite music playlist, turned the volume up and went back to work, tapping her foot to the rock music which bled from the speakers.
She glanced at her watch. The first session was designed to run for an hour, in order to monitor the executives for any health problems which might surface during the longer mock interrogations.
Kate’s heart beat rapidly, and she forced herself to concentrate on the task in hand, rather than thinking about what the men would be going through, her memories still too raw.
She shook her head. Finn had told her that her experience would make her an ideal manager for the business, and she had agreed at the time. She told herself that it would get better, but for now, she coped as best she could and took each day one at a time.
The hour passed quickly, and by the time Kate had emailed the last person on her ‘to do’ list, the sound of laughter and catcalling reached her office.
She switched off the computer, wandered past the kitchen to make sure the caterers were ready and then made her way through to the dining room.
‘Ah, there she is,’ said Finn and waved her over to the group.
‘How did it go?’
‘We’re just waiting for one more to join us,’ he said. ‘He’s in with Steve.’
Kate noticed the wicked smile on his face and guessed who the latecomer was. ‘I see,’ she said, and then turned at the sound of one of the doors in the passageway opening.
The languid executive who had sat in the classroom the day before had disappeared. In his place, a pale, slightly sickly looking man emerged from the interrogation experience.
Steve followed him, and slapped him on the shoulder as they walked into the dining room.
‘I hope you’ve got a good appetite, Matthew,’ he said, winking theatrically at the rest of the room. ‘Kate’s been slaving all morning in the kitchen just for you.’
Stifled laughter filled the split-second silence which followed his remark, and Kate noticed that the executive managed to look a little sheepish as he joined his colleagues and ran his hand through his hair.
‘That was so much harder than I thought,’ he mumbled, then had the graciousness to join in the laughter which followed.
Kate walked up to him and handed him a bottle of water. ‘Drink this slowly at first,’ she instructed. ‘Just in case, okay?’
The man nodded, and then turned back to his colleagues.
Kate turned to see Finn smiling at her and walked over to join him, sitting next to him and uncapping her own bottle of water.
‘And how are you doing?’
Finn smiled and lifted the white padding from his bicep.
Kate leaned across and pulled it away with her finger, the black ink of the completed tattoo gleaming under the new skin.
She glanced up at Finn and smiled. ‘It’s healing well.’
‘Mmm. The guy it’s painted on isn’t doing too badly either.’
Kate grinned, then stood and recapped the bottle of water and set it to one side.
‘Okay folks, let’s get back into it. We’ve got a lot to cover in a short space of time today. One hour for a lunchbreak, and then we’ll let you know what we’ve got in store for you this afternoon.’
The executives began to settle into their seats. One of them leaned forward and looked down the length of the dining table towards Finn and Kate.
‘What happens if we’re kidnapped, and then they move us?’ he asked.
Kate looked across to Finn, who nodded at her.
Kate smiled at him, and then turned back to the class.
‘Whatever it takes – they’ll find you.’
THE END
1
Central Valley, California
Kyle Roberts sucked in a deep breath of air and willed the fire in his leg muscles to ease.
He’d been running for what seemed an age, sliding over exposed stones and rocks, all the time straining his ears to listen for signs of his pursuers.
His jeans, dirty and torn, stuck to his legs, the ends of his shirt flapping from under a faded black leather jacket.
He stopped and squinted over his shoulder, paranoia squeezing his gut.
Intermittent flashes of lightning illuminated the landscape, casting an eerie purple-yellow hue across the terrain. Clouds tumbled over each other, hastening towards the valley, churning the sky into darkening shades of grey.
They’d heard the storm warnings on the radio earlier that afternoon – news of a drought-breaker, with the accompanying instructions to secure loose outdoor items and seek shelter.
The men had worked more urgently, the whole team desperate to keep the operation on schedule. Tempers had frayed, his real identity had been compromised, and then Kyle had found out what it was like to be on the receiving end of a sharp knife.
His hand travelled to his shoulder and came away sticky. The wound would never stop bleeding all the time he remained in motion, but he had little choice.
He ran a dirty hand through his hair and wondered if John had managed to get away from the men who wanted them dead, whether he was now steering the stolen car along the dirt track that ran between the farming properties across the ridge towards town.
They’d heard rumours that the creek had been likely to flood, taking out the bridge that spanned the wide expanse of water, and in turn wiping out any hope they’d held to get help.
They’d only managed to escape with one vehicle, Kyle choosing to jump out and send John on his way while he escaped on foot in the opposite direction, hoping to distract their pursuers.
If he did make it as far as the highway without being caught, Kyle planned to flag down the first available vehicle and disappear in the opposite direction, over the range and away from the Valley.
He’d ruled out heading to the neighbouring farm to raise the alarm – their pursuers would likely check there first.
Trouble brewed over his shoulder, in the shape of an angry grey and purple storm front. The storm head billowed towards him, darkening the skies, while the rocky escarpment beyond had become a blue-grey hue.
A flock of birds screeched overhead, their route taking them away from the encroaching onslaught.
The air had turned oppressive, viscous with charged ozone and a stifling humidity. On the horizon, patches of pale sunlight shone through the grey clouds, attempting a last stand against the approaching storm.
Fat raindrops began to hit the ground, the coolness hissing against the hot dirt.
His head twitched as, to his left, half a mile below him on the incline, a dark shape lurched forwards through the gloom and began to gain height, the far-off roar of a powerful engine reaching his ears.
They were closing in on him.
He gritted his teeth and swore in frustration as his water-logged boots sank into the mud, slowing him down. He wrenched his foot from the soaked earth and began to stagger towards the upper part of the ridge. With any luck, he’d be able to get his bearings from there, rather than struggling over the landscape with little sense of direction. He had to concentrate, to act on his survival skills and
cunning, if he was going to survive the next few hours and complete his mission.
He paused, plunged his hand into his pocket, and pulled out a mobile phone. Holding it up, he spun round trying to get a single bar of signal to appear at the top of the screen.
‘Come on,’ he urged, before turning in a different direction and trying again.
He had to warn them, to tell them he’d failed, that what they had been so desperately trying to prevent was happening, now.
A strangled curse of frustration escaped his lips. Either the incoming electrical storm had scrambled the signal, or the emergency services were receiving so many calls from people living in the valley that the service was overloaded.
In any event, he wasn’t going to be making a phone call any time soon.
He swore under his breath. Everything about the plan had turned to shit. He’d spent six months setting it up, but his plan hadn’t factored in the possibility that he’d be stabbed trying to prevent a catastrophe from taking place, or that a drought-breaking storm would descend on the valley, sending his target into a panic.
He snorted at the irony, began to put the phone back in his pocket, and then shouted in alarm as the ground gave way under his feet.
He lashed out with his arms and legs to slow his descent, swore as the branch of a tree sapling whipped his cheek, and then slid to a halt, breathing hard.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He lay still for a moment, letting the rain wash the blood from his torn face and hands while he caught his breath, before he hauled himself up into a crouching position. He strained his ears to hear above the pounding of the rain, trying to get his bearings.
His hand moved to his pocket, and he closed his eyes as he realised what had happened.
He’d lost the phone.
He raised his eyes to the tracks of his fall and searched the undergrowth, moving swiftly, left to right across the path of destruction his body had made as he’d fallen.
Nothing.
He clasped his hands over his head and pivoted in a circle, cursing.
He glanced over his shoulder. The top of the ridge was now even further away from him, the tracks of his fall evident in the next blinding flash of lightning that swept across the darkening sky and illuminated the stark landscape. He couldn’t afford to waste time. If the phone was gone, then he had to escape. It was the only way.
Two FBI thrillers: Before Nightfall and Mistake Creek Page 21