by Jen Doyle
She’d smiled lazily at him as he sat down next to her. Can we do that again? Then she’d reached up and pulled him down, attacking his mouth with the same energy she’d devoted to the river half an hour earlier. He had happily responded, and within minutes she’d felt his bare skin against her, inside her. His teeth had skimmed her neck; she’d closed her eyes and forced the moan back down her throat, highly aware of the comm’s live mic in the boat behind them.
“Lyndsey.”
“Huh?” She had to force herself to refocus on the present and what Dominic was saying rather than the way she’d clutched Ian’s body, burrowing her head into his chest and, yes, her nails into his back, as she came.
Dominic replied as though he were talking to a two-year-old. “I said, it’s downright irresponsible and I think you should tell—”
“Are you still concerned about whether I can handle the physical demands on this job, Dominic? Or are you worried about your own capabilities?”
The comm crackled. “Give him hell, Lyndsey,” said Matt, who appeared to have forgiven her and Ian for their detour into debauchery. Not that he’d actually been privy to the debauchery part, but she was pretty certain their being incommunicado for the half hour it took for the rest of the team to reach the cove hadn’t been lost on him.
It had been Dominic’s choice not to be tethered to the communications gear, so she felt no guilt whatsoever about him not being able to hear Matt’s comment and didn’t bother to hide her smile. “We’ve got work to do.”
They were at the fourth crime scene in three days and by now it seemed routine: while Ian and his team surveyed the area—in this case, the location in which victim number six had been found—Lyndsey and Dominic’s job was to find any pictographs in the area and document their location. As Tessa had explained, the pictographs were aboriginal rock paintings found throughout the Park. Although there were photographs online and in books, Tessa had asked for pictures from the crime scenes just in case there was any correlation. She felt strongly that the symbols found on the bodies were ancient, much older than the pictographs themselves, but she still wanted documentation.
Although Dominic had initially been reluctant to show Lyndsey where the pictographs were located in relation to each crime scene, after being reminded by Ian that they could easily find them on their own thanks to the, oh, thousand or so “See the Pictographs!” maps available, he had conceded.
He led her to a small clearing fifty yards away from where the rest of the team was concentrating their efforts. She crouched down and brushed a plant away. “Matt, are you getting this?”
“Yep,” Matt replied. “You’re all set.”
She added a sprig of sage to the pile at the base of the pictographs as she’d promised Tessa she’d do. It had seemed silly at first, but as each day passed and they progressed further into the Park, Lyndsey felt a greater connection to the ground she was standing on. With eagles soaring and the pines towering overhead, she was more than happy to pay homage to Mother Earth.
They started back towards the others, and she wasn’t a bit surprised when Dominic once again launched into his speech about how he thought it was bad luck for her to be photographing the pictographs. No telling what could happen if she offended the—
“I’ve got it,” she snapped. For Heaven’s sake. Although she didn’t think that was actually true, she didn’t need any jinxing. She was pretty happy right now, not her usual state.
They came back into the clearing, across which stood Ian, the man 100% responsible for her being in the happy place. The smile she’d been wearing for the past week plastered itself on her face.
Ian looked up as Lyndsey and Dominic reappeared. He was glad Brady wasn’t watching at the time—ever since Ian had given Lyndsey that kiss in front of everyone, the ribbing had been constant. Ian didn’t mind, not entirely. It had been a long time since he’d been able to just be one of the guys and he was actually happy the rank and file wasn’t holding back. But it did require a level of attention he’d forgotten about, and right now it was more than fine with Ian that he was able to devote all of his attention to Lyndsey as she came up to him and took his hand. After pulling him down for a—mostly—chaste kiss, she let go and said, “So, anything new?”
Focusing on the task at hand, Ian replied, “Same old, same old.” His gaze swept the clearing as he watched the team begin to come back in. He hadn’t really expected anything different, to be honest. The cases were so old that there wasn’t much hope for anything in the realm of physical evidence. He still wanted to comb the area, of course, but he was fully prepared to come back empty-handed. As Matt had said, this whole op was best viewed as a recon mission. The more they learned now, the better prepared they’d be to respond to the next incident. Ian’s main objective was to get the lay of the land and see if there was anything about the various crime scenes that connected them.
So far, nothing jumped out at him. The scenes were similar, but not enough for Ian to issue a warning for men over six feet tall to avoid clearings with two pine trees and a big rock or something like that. And he wasn’t getting any demon vibes. He didn’t have Lyndsey’s supersensory skills, but he could usually tell if something was nearby. There were no nests, though, no lairs; nothing sitting just out of sight, watching and laying a trap for the next requisite widower to row or stroll by. Nothing except the rangers, that was—Frank and his boys, who seemed to appear just around every bend. Irritating as hell; not exactly sinister, however.
Right now the team was recording every inch of every scene and transmitting the images back to Command where they’d be analyzed in every way possible—the types of wildlife, the distance from the water, the number of trees… Hell, the angles from the top of each tree to the ground below. Everything and anything that could be reviewed would be. In addition to the images they were collecting here, Emily was down in D.C. gathering satellite photos of each scene in the two weeks preceding and two weeks following each disappearance and then again the point of discovery for each body.
“We’re good,” Matt said as the last of the images came in. “You’ve got, what, a few more hours of daylight? Do me a favor? Stay away from the rapids, okay?”
“They were on the way,” Ian protested, but he couldn’t help but smile as he watched Lyndsey sit down on a rock next to Brady.
“Right,” Matt replied. The ‘like hell’ was clearly implied. “I’m heading out for dinner. TomCat’s on for the rest of the night.”
Ian groaned. “Tell him if he insists on listening to AC/DC not to broadcast it over the comms.” Tom’s taste in music left something to be desired as far as Ian was concerned.
“Shouldn’t have taken the lead on those rapids, Ian,” Matt said laughing. “No telling the price you’ll have to pay. Have a good night.”
“Count on it.” If for no other reason than that in about an hour’s time, the team of eight—ten really, when counting Dominic and Joe, the guide—would be splitting into two. Dominic would be heading off with Brady’s group, leaving Ian with Lyndsey, Brooks, and Malek for the next few nights. And Joe, of course—Joe, who, was so quiet and unobtrusive it was almost as if he weren’t there.
Ian had expected a bit more of a protest from Dominic, especially considering the man had taken Lyndsey on as his special project over the last week, sticking to her like glue. Lyndsey had taken it in stride, her only rebellion being the refusal to ride with Dominic, staying in Ian’s boat instead. Which, although it hadn’t yielded many opportunities like the one after the rapids earlier that day, provided the only times they were able to be alone together.
And, well, Ian was grateful for her silent strength. As much as he hated to admit it, there was something about this op that just wasn’t sitting right with him. The bad feeling about it had never really gone away. Maybe it was because there wasn’t anything out there to fight, or maybe it was because it was the first time in a long time he was out in the field with a woman he loved, worried about her sa
fety despite the fact that this particular woman was better at this than anyone else in the world. Regardless of the reason, having Lyndsey right beside him helped.
Not to mention that there was something about not being able to rely on words—how intimate it was to carry on an entire conversation without saying a thing thanks to the comm system broadcasting every word to every person on the team, not to mention how much was captured by video. It brought everything to a different level: having to steal moments here and there, making sure no one else could see or hear. But after finding out what had set Lyndsey off that night in Sausalito, Ian wasn’t about to leave her with any doubts about how he felt. Plus, it had been sixteen years. Could anyone really blame him for wanting to steal every possible moment he could to have her to himself?
“Pack it up!” he shouted, watching as the team gathered the few physical specimens they’d found and put away the equipment. After conferring with Brady for a few minutes and agreeing to meet up at the base of Sturgeon Lake in a few days time, Ian climbed into the boat with Lyndsey and pushed off shore.
By the time the sun set, Malek had scouted a good place to set up camp for the night. Dinner consisted of fresh trout accompanied by wild greens, courtesy of Joe.
Brooks prodded the campfire with a stick before sitting back down. “Beats freeze-dried lasagna any day.”
“Next time remind me to bring marshmallows,” Lyndsey said. She was stretched out on her stomach, head resting on her hands. The warmth and crackling of the fire was so soothing it was putting her to sleep.
She was starting to get used to days without demons. It was very possibly the longest she’d gone without killing something since the night Nick was turned. But surprisingly, she wasn’t missing the action. Not when there were satisfying days like this: seven hours of canoeing, the highlight being half an hour on the rapids—good for the body. A stolen half hour with Ian—good for the soul. Well, okay; body, too. Add in an excellent meal and enjoyable company? “This was a good day.”
“So we’re starting to grow on you,” Brooks said. “Thinking of joining the team for good?”
“Unh-uh.” She smiled dreamily, closing her eyes. “Way too many rules.”
“Sure it’s not the fact that we go to work in a place where you have to hang your food up in the trees so the bears don’t get it?” Brooks asked.
“Or the lack of indoor plumbing?” Malek added.
Not that those were selling points. However... “I’ve spent my share of time tracking things through sewers. There are definite advantages to a place without indoor plumbing.” She looked up and smiled as Ian sat down next to her. As was his usual practice after dinner, he’d just called in to Command, checking to see if anything new had come in. “Anything new?”
He shook his head. “Not much. Catalano gave us a message from Tessa. She said the pictographs have been helpful. Not enough to decipher all the markings, but she’s making headway. And she’s meeting with some medicine man in a few days. Might have more after that.” He looked around. “Where’s Joe? Isn’t it early for him to take off?”
The guide tended to disappear for the night, not reappearing until the next morning before breakfast. He usually waited until everyone was ready to turn in, but it was a little creepy.
Brooks shrugged. “He left about twenty minutes ago.”
It was quiet for a few minutes before Malek turned to Lyndsey and asked, “Have you really been doing this your whole life?”
Although she’d felt mostly comfortable with the team during her week training with them in Boston, there was something about being in the woods with them day in and day out. Or maybe it was just that, since that night in Atikokan with Ian she’d experienced a whole new level of trust—one she’d only ever experienced before with Zach and the others from ZSJ. Whatever it was, it was nice not to have to hold anything back. Vampires, demons, werewolves, whatever. They’d seen them all, too.
“Zach started training me when I was seventeen,” she said, opening up her eyes. “Been doing it ever since.”
“Seventeen? Damn.” Malek said. “I think my first vamp sighting was well after 21. Thank God, because if I hadn’t been able to drink my ass off afterwards, I’m not sure what I would have done.”
Lyndsey shifted so she was sitting up. Although she attempted a smile as she pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, she wasn’t sure she’d managed. The night Nick was turned wasn’t something she’d ever be able to joke about. “It wasn’t really a choice.”
“If it had been,” Brooks said, raising himself up on his elbow, “what would you have done?”
“Quit. Without a doubt. Back then at least.” She threw a stick into the fire.
“And now?” Brooks asked.
She shrugged. “It’s in my blood.” Literally, although she didn’t feel a need to highlight that fact. “It’s just who I am.”
“So you’re, what is it called, Sekhmet?” Malek said, “Right? Like, you and the Amazons?”
Lyndsey looked sharply up at Ian. It wasn’t something they’d ever talked about, and it wasn’t something she’d even known until after the Study had come and gone. She had to assume they’d dug it up as part of their research about ZSJ. Before she could get angry or even feel uncomfortable about it, though, Malek turned over onto his back and looked up at the stars, almost dreamily saying, “That must have been awesome growing up. I mean, most kids just dream about being a superhero. You actually got to be one.”
Um… Okay. Not exactly the reaction Lyndsey was used to. She almost didn’t want to disappoint him.
“Are there others like you?” he added.
Lyndsey almost laughed. She couldn’t believe she was actually having this conversation—having this conversation with an Army guy. An Army guy who wasn’t Ian. To be honest, though, she didn’t actually know. She assumed there were—Zachary said she wasn’t the first he’d come across—but she wasn’t really sure. That was actually more Ian and Matt’s territory and it wasn’t something she’d felt comfortable enough broaching quite yet. She and Ian were doing just fine right now. She was in no mood to find out they had a radar screen out there somewhere tracking all the people like her. She stuck with, “Not that I’ve ever met.”
“Maybe we could go easy on the Lyndsey questions,” Ian said, watching Lyndsey uneasily, very possibly for many of the same reasons Lyndsey was.
And yet for some reason she turned back to Malek, and said, “That’s okay. You can ask more.”
After a few seconds of looking back and forth between Ian and Lyndsey, Malek said, “So what’s the worst thing you ever faced?”
Lyndsey sighed. Of course that’s what he’d ask. Because with the exception of the night with Nick, and then the night Rob died, most of them involved Ian in some way, even if only indirectly. Staring into the fire, she said, “Having Matt’s gun to my head wasn’t exactly the best of times.”
“Matt? You mean Colonel Lee?” Malek asked. Thankfully, rather than make a big deal of it, he just rested his head in his hands as he looked up at the stars and laughed. “Well, that explains a lot.”
Lyndsey didn’t need to look at him to know Ian was watching her even more closely now. Before the conversation could go much further, he stood up and asked, “Anyone want coffee?”
After he came back with the coffee pot and supplies a few minutes later, Ian steered the conversation to more general things, and for the next couple of hours they traded stories back and forth—ghost stories shared over a campfire, probably the same thing other hikers were doing all over the park. Except these stories were real.
Ian waited until Brooks and Malek had turned in before inching close enough to take her hand and say, “I know we said we didn’t owe each other apologies, but—”
“Things happened,” she said, cutting him off. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I know,” he answered in a way that indicated the complete opposite. “I just—”
“Please
don’t.” She fought back the catch in her voice. For as much as he didn’t want apologies from her, she wanted them from him even less. Because the second he started saying he was sorry about whatever things he’d done—or the things his friends might have—she came right back to that realization of how badly she’d screwed up by not letting him explain. And every time she even began to travel down that path, it upset her so much she could barely breathe. “I can’t…”
“I know.” His voice was as guarded as hers—she wasn’t sure if it was because he was as emotional as she was or, well, or if he’d realized that everything that had happened to them was, essentially, her fault.
She kissed his hand before tucking it under her head. “I love you. Can we just leave it at that?”
He stared at her for a moment, holding her gaze. Then he got up and walked back to his tent. Sitting up, Lyndsey watched after him, wondering what he’d gone to get. Her eyes narrowed as he emerged with a sleeping bag in his hands.
“What…?” she said as he came back over to the fire and laid it down next to her. She gave a pointed look towards Brooks and Malek’s tents. Even though Ian had been more open about being with her than even Lyndsey had hoped, there’d definitely been a line: he had his tent, she had hers, and that was pretty much the way it was. “You don’t…” she started to say.
“I want to sleep with you tonight,” he said, lying down. He moved back a little to give her room.
With one final glance back at the tents, she smiled and lay back down, closing her eyes. His arms went around her and he pulled her tight against him, saying, “I love you, too.”
18
Ian woke up the next morning in more pain than he’d expected, especially considering he hadn’t done anything last night. Every muscle ached. It was pretty pathetic, actually, although he supposed it shouldn’t have come as a surprise. He’d spent most of the night wide awake and body rigid so afraid that if he moved so much as an inch, Lyndsey would wake up and the magic from the past week would be gone. He hadn’t wanted to stop pretending this could actually work, that it could be as good as this once they got home. And since his brain was having a hard time coming up with any scenario in which that could actually be true, he hadn’t wanted to stop touching her.