Time Raiders: The Protector

by Merline Lovelace

  “Yeah, right! Like I’m going to get naked and snuggle up with you.”

  “I’m not letting you catch pneumonia on my watch. Not with everything that’s riding on this jump.”

  “Forget it, Brody.”

  “What’s your problem?” Max snapped. “It’s not like this would be the first time you got naked with a team member while deployed on a critical mission.”

  Well, hell! He hadn’t meant to show his hand. Not yet. He’d wanted to get close enough to this woman to convince her to open up to him first.

  The damage was done, though. He could see it in the way her face drained of all color and her green eyes went wide with shock.

  “Wh…? What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about you,” he said, his jaw tight, “and Captain Jerry Holland.”

  She dragged her tongue over her lower lip. “How do you know about Captain Holland?”

  “He was my roommate at the academy. We kept in touch over the years.”

  Max’s eyes held hers, hard, unrelenting.

  “I got an e-mail from him a couple days before he died. In it he mentioned a certain red-haired weather officer with killer legs and a tight, trim butt.”

  Max didn’t intend it as a compliment. She didn’t take it as one.

  “Jerry said she was a tease who promised more than she delivered, but he was going to collect…if it was the last thing he ever did.”

  Chapter 3

  Women and little people are difficult to handle.

  —Confucius

  H e was going to collect…if it was the last thing he ever did.

  The words stabbed into Cassie and left her bleeding inside. She’d thought she’d put it all behind her. The pain. The humiliation. The agonizing guilt.

  She bled for another moment or two, then erupted into fury. It was either that or burst into tears, and she had no more left to cry.

  “This is great! Just friggn’ great! I’m soaked from the waist down. My lower half feels like an ice sculpture. I’m locked in a cell with the threat of beheading hanging over me and oh, by the way, the fate of the entire world on my back. And my partner in this enterprise wants to know if his buddy collected on his bet before he died.”

  She lunged forward and got toe-to-toe with Brody. If she’d learned nothing else from the disaster that had altered her life forever, it was to face her accusers head-on.

  “Well, Jerry didn’t collect. I delivered as promised, but he never made it back to camp to claim his winnings.”

  “Hold on a minute.” Max’s brows had snapped together. “Back up a little. What bet?”

  “Oh, he didn’t include that in his e-mail?” Her lip curled. “How he bet his pals that he’d get into the weirdo weather officer’s pants? Find out if she was a freak in bed as well as out?”

  She wouldn’t let the pain and humiliation consume her again! She wouldn’t!

  Nor would she admit to Brody that she’d surrendered every part of herself to Jerry Holland on that lush tropical island. She’d bared her soul, told him about the taunts and jeers she’d endured as a child, recounted some of her problems with her military supervisors, only to hear him admit he considered her more than a little weird, too.

  Writhing inside at the memory, she gritted her teeth and plowed on. “I tried to save him. That morning, just before the flash flood roared down on us, I tried to warn him.”

  But she’d left it too late.

  It hadn’t rained that much, only a few inches upriver. Yet she’d spotted leaves and debris carried on the rushing current and heard—or thought she’d heard—a distant roar. If she hadn’t caught Jerry bragging to another squad member that he’d won the Lieutenant Jones bet…If he hadn’t tried to brazen it out when she’d confronted him…If she hadn’t been so hurt and mortified and seething with white-hot fury…

  “Our mission that day was classified,” Cassie finished, wiping every trace of emotion from her voice. “I can’t tell you where we were or what we were doing, but I can tell you this. During the official inquiry into Captain Holland’s death, two other squad members testified that I urged him to move our location to higher ground.” Her eyes locked with Brody’s. “And that’s all I intend to tell you.”

  No way was she going to admit the paralyzing doubts Jerry’s tragic drowning had embedded in her psyche. How she’d questioned her skills, her judgment, her very femininity for long afterward.

  She’d confided those doubts to Professor Carswell and General Ashton when she’d volunteered for Operation Anasazi. She’d also told them as much as she could of her last, disastrous mission. She owed them that honesty.

  Athena Carswell had looked deep into her eyes and read the truth. General Ashton had gone with her gut. As a result, Cassie would trust either of those women with her life. But hell would do the proverbial big freeze before she trusted another man with her heart.

  Especially one who suspected she knew more than she had admitted concerning the death of his buddy!

  “Your turn,” she grunted. “Why did you—?”

  Cassie broke off, shuddering violently. When she continued, her teeth clicked like castanets.

  “Why did you agree to…jump back in time with…someone you obviously…don’t trust?”

  “General Ashton vouched for you. Said you were the only one with the skill to make this jump.” Frowning, he raked a hand through the shaggy, sun-streaked blond hair that matched his beard. “I trust the general’s judgment. Implicitly. Then there’s that small matter you mentioned about the fate of the entire world hanging on this mission.”

  “But…?”

  “But that e-mail raised questions in my mind. I wanted answers.”

  “Are you…satisfied with them?”

  Not hardly, Max thought. But if he didn’t do something soon, his jump partner would turn blue right before his eyes.

  “For now. Let’s get you warm.”

  “No…thanks. I’d rather snuggle up…with that garbage-breathing camel.”

  “You can snuggle with him tomorrow. Tonight you’re stuck with me.”

  She was shivering too violently to protest further. Or to send the signal that they’d arrived at their prescribed destination. After two fumbling attempts to bury a hand under her heavy cloak and reach the cuff banding her upper arm, she gave up.

  Max shook his head. “I’ll do it.”

  Rolling back his sleeve, he clapped his hand over the quartz crystal in his own silver cuff. When the quartz warmed under his palm, he gave it two quick taps.

  “Signal sent. Now take off your clothes.”

  “They made it! Both of them!”

  Athena Carswell’s exultant shout cut like a saber through the tension in the lab. Beverly Ashton and the two mission specialists who’d joined them for the nerve-racking vigil following the jump exploded into whoops.

  “Yes!”

  Her brown-gold eyes blazing with relief, Delia Sebastian threw herself into Jake Tyler’s arms. She’d made more jumps than any other Time Raider. She knew how dangerous every attempt to cross time and space could be.

  Bev had to smile at the wet, sloppy kisses Delia planted all over Jake’s face. These two were her protégés. She’d handpicked them, as she had every other Operation Anasazi volunteer. That Delia and Jake had managed to survive and rekindle the love they’d once had for each other caused a little ache just under her ribs.

  Bev had had a love like that once. So long ago that she had to work hard to recall the face of the cocky marine chopper pilot she’d married as a young lieutenant, then lost in a fiery crash.

  Bev had buried her grief by throwing herself into Project Anasazi. Over time, the pain had dulled. It was only at moments like this, as she watched Delia and Jake’s unrestrained joy, that she ached for someone to share hers with, too.

  “All right, you two,” she said with a smile. “Deep-six those public displays of affection. Which one of you has the watch tonight?”

  They broke ap
art, wearing identical sheepish grins.

  “I do,” Jake responded.

  The lab was manned 24/7 during a jump, and Athena occupied the sleeping quarters set up nearby. If either Cassie or Max sent an emergency signal, the entire crew would work to bring them back, and fast.

  “I’ll back Jake up,” Delia asserted. “Go home, ma’am. Get some sleep. We’ll notify you if we receive any further contact.”

  Bev didn’t argue. She felt every hour of the three intense days of mission prep, and every minute of the nerve-racking wait for the team to verify they’d made the jump. She could use a hot shower, a glass of chilled Riesling and a couple of pine logs blazing away in the kiva fireplace of her Flagstaff condo.

  “You’d better get some sleep, too, Athena,” Bev murmured, noting the slump to the physicist’s shoulders under her lab coat. “These jumps take so much out of you.”

  “Yes, they do.” Triumph threaded through the weariness in the professor’s voice. “But we got them there, Bev. Cassie and Max. They’ll find the fourth piece of the medallion. I know they will.”

  She left unsaid the unimaginable consequences if they didn’t. No one in the lab needed the reminder.

  Certainly not Bev, as she tugged up her coat collar to block the knifing wind while she walked to her car. Like Athena, she’d lived, breathed, slept and eaten Project Anasazi for almost ten years. She knew what hung in the balance.

  She’d also used every trick in the book to fend off the determined efforts of the shadowy figure determined to claim the medallion and the power it would give him. Bev still didn’t have his name. Not yet. But she was close.

  One of the private investigators she’d hired after break-ins at the lab and at Athena’s home had disappeared. The second had phoned a few days ago to say he was following a money trail with more switchbacks than a python with a severe case of indigestion. He promised to stay with it, though, and discover who the hell was funding these illegal activities.

  Then, of course, there were the Centaurians. Powerful alpha males from a distant galaxy who’d mastered the ability to navigate the stars. Unwilling to share their power, the Centaurians systematically suppressed that ability in others—including earth females who possessed the nascent star navigator gene. From previous jumps, Bev and the others knew the ruthless leader of the Centaurians had sent his men in under the radar of the Pleiadean Council to conduct search-and-destroy missions on earth.

  They’d done a helluva a job of it. Earth’s early matriarchal societies had all but disappeared over the millennia as men assumed more and more dominant roles. Organized religions had contributed to that process by decreeing only men could be priests and prophets. Even today, with women performing absolutely essential roles in the military, there were still throwbacks who felt females didn’t belong in uniform.

  Bev’s jaw tightened as she steered through the snowy streets to her condo. Every team she and Athena had sent to search for pieces of the medallion had done battle with a Centaurian. Tessa Marconi had not only clashed with one, she’d conquered his heart and brought him back with her.

  What Lord Rustam had related about his people had struck chills into his listeners’ hearts. Although Centaurians could assume any shape, any form, they retained vestiges of the half horse, half human centaurs that had originated their race. Some had toes that were joined, almost like a hoof. Others sported the remnants of a mane, as evidenced by the ruff of coarse hair that ran halfway down their backs.

  Only the strongest were allowed to mate, however. The rest were gelded and used for menial tasks. And only one claimed the absolute right to mount any female he chose.

  Kentar of the Fifth Nebula.

  The very name raised Bev’s hackles. After what the bastard had put her mission specialists through, she wished fervently he would show his face. Just once. She knew how to wield a knife. Ole Kentar would whinny on back to his galaxy a gelding.

  That fierce vow was uppermost in her mind when she pulled onto the interstate. Two miles later, she spotted a vehicle parked on the shoulder, its hazard lights blinking. A little farther on she spied the driver trudging along with his shoulders hunched against the snow. As Bev approached, he turned and squinted at her.

  “Oh, hell!”

  The rimless glasses and pink plaid Burberry scarf wrapped around his throat identified the man immediately. Prissy, officious Allen Parker chaired the architectural committee of Bev’s condo association. At the best of times, he was barely tolerable. At the worst, he was a royal pain in the ass.

  She was tempted to zing on down the highway. Very tempted. She was in no mood for Parker right now. Unfortunately, her conscience wouldn’t let her pass a stranded motorist, even one as obnoxious as Parker. Sighing, Bev pulled over and opened her Bronco’s door to shout, “Need a ride?”

  “Yes!”

  When he minced toward her through the slush, Bev rolled her eyes. Thank God for strong males like Jake Tyler, and Alex Patton’s fierce Celtic warrior, Cardoc. Even Tessa’s Centaurian, Lord Rustam. They’d provided the kind of muscle and brain power on previous jumps that had complimented their partners’ skills and strengths.

  As would Max Brody. Bev didn’t doubt that for a minute. She’d seen him in action, knew what he was capable of. Knew, too, he would more than match Cassie’s fierce determination to find the next piece in this damnable puzzle.

  She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for Parker, wondering how her missions specialists were doing in their quest.

  Cassie lay on her side, her back to Max’s front, his left arm hooked over her waist. The wolf pelt under them provided minimal cushioning against the dirt floor. His cloak was draped over them both. She might have rejoiced in the heat transferring from his body to hers if her every thought, every effort, hadn’t been concentrated on keeping her butt from making contact with his groin.

  They’d been snuggled together off and on for almost three hours. Cassie had been a twisted bundle of nerves the whole time. She still wore several layers up top. A linen blouse of sorts, a woolen shirt and her cloak. Below that, however, she was bare—and all too conscious of the bulge that poked her bottom every time she shifted.

  Like now. One twitch, and she bucked like a bee-stung mare.

  “What’s the matter?” Max drawled in her ear. “Can’t find a comfortable position?”

  She was damned if she’d admit her ridiculous nervousness was the result of the feel of his hard, muscled body curved around hers.

  “In case you haven’t noticed, Brody, it’s still snowing.”

  “Yeah,” he muttered, less sarcastic now. “I’ve noticed.”

  The barred grate in their cell door was only a few inches square, barely big enough to let in a few errant flakes.

  “The window faces west,” Cassie said grimly. “The moon rises in the northeast quadrant tonight. If it shines through the clouds, we won’t be able to see it. Which means we won’t know if it shows red.”

  His arm tightened on her waist, drawing her closer. A reflex action, she thought. Hoped!

  “We’d better try and get some sleep,” he muttered. “We may need to fight our way out of here come dawn.”

  Sure…She would just close her eyes and nod right off. No sense worrying about their mission. No reason for her nerves to jump every time his breath tickled the fine hair at the back of her neck.

  Think of the Ad Astra journals, she told herself sternly. Think of the Pleiadian Council. Think of the Centaurians, so determined to crush all those with star navigator potential. Think of—

  “Christ! You’re stiff as a board, Jones. Relax. Nothing’s going to happen until dawn.”

  With a little grunt, he shifted and raised his right knee. Hers came up with it, and the rough hair of his leg brushed her sensitive inner thigh.

  Was he doing it on purpose? Trying to throw her off balance with these moves, as he had when he’d tossed Jerry’s name at her? If so, the ploy was working. She couldn’t think about
anything but the feel of him pressed against her from neck to knees.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, Cassie forced herself to relax. She wouldn’t be any good to herself or to her jump partner come morning if she didn’t get at least a few hours’ sleep.

  Despite his loose sprawl, Max kept every sense on full alert. So alert he picked up on the change in Cassie’s breathing while she was still drifting through that half state before sleep.

  Even then she didn’t completely relax. Her body remained stiff and unyielding until she gave a last, jerky twitch and sank into oblivion.

  Max wished to hell he could follow her lead. Almost as much as he wished he could believe his flat assertion that nothing would happen until dawn.

  He’d thrown that out for her benefit. He’d had to do something to counter his monumental stupidity in bringing up his knowledge of her past. He’d intended to get her to trust him, make her want to tell him what had really happened the day Jerry died. Instead he’d heaped more tension on a woman already coiled tight.

  Not real smart, when he had to depend on her skills to gain entrée to the empress’s inner circle and find the medallion piece. Max would have to work hard to regain his jump partner’s confidence.

  He settled her head more comfortably on his arm as he picked up the thump of tramping boots and the dull clank of steel that had to signal a changing of the guard. The sound of subdued voices carried on the cold air. Something that might be ivory dice clattered across a board.

  Scents drifted through the barred grate. Smoldering charcoal. Sizzling meat. Max’s stomach rumbled in response. Yet the hunger that snaked through his belly had nothing to do with the fact that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. To his profound disgust, his body was reacting to the one nested against it. The feel of her, the scent of her, stirred a response he had not expected.