The mountain road became narrower and twisting as the car climbed. Its V-6 engine began to protest the incline. Silk was quiet. Mad and quiet. The silence made him nervous. She didn’t seem like the pouting type. She seemed like a kick ’em in the ass and see if they holler type. Neither was pleasant. He supposed he deserved her wrath. He never should have touched her. Never should have kissed her. Still, he hated the wait. He knew she was going to explode. He just hated wondering when.
“There it is,” she said, her voice deceptively calm.
A mailbox leaned sideways by an overgrown drive. The number on its side matched the one in red crayon on the paper Silk held in her hand.
“The car won’t make it,” Davis noted as he pulled the sedan to the side of the road.
There was just enough gravel to make a crunch, but not enough to make the driveway anything other than a mud-soup mess. He and Silk would have to hoof it if they were going to find the person that Piper Jo had sent them to find. Problem was it didn’t look like the guy wanted to be found.
“We will walk,” Silk said with resignation in her voice.
“Or swim,” Davis replied as the rain seemed to get heavier with her words.
They didn’t have umbrellas or raincoats, but Silk didn’t seem to care. She climbed from the car and he followed. He noticed puddles around his ankles. He noticed rivulets of rain coming from the sodden mass of curls on his forehead. He tried not to notice the way the rain caused Silk’s shirt to conform to her chest.
“We have people like this on my world. People who want to live in the wilderness. They come to Earth or other places like it.”
That helped. No way was he going to enjoy the way she looked in a wet T-shirt while she was lost in Wonderland. He wasn’t a jerk. Not a total jerk anyway.
Silk’s long legs were strong as well. Even in the slippery mud, she made short work of the hike. He struggled to keep up. He was in reasonably good shape, but Silk weighed less than he did. She didn’t sink deep into the muck with every step. In fact, she made walking in sloppy mud seem almost graceful. He tried very hard not to appreciate the sway of her hips as she slipped and slid. He was grateful she slipped and slid less than he did.
By the time they came to the crest of a small rise, he was almost winded and glad to see a tiny shack in a clearing down below. It looked like a scene that time had forgotten. As if telephones, microwaves and cell phones had never happened. As if a pioneer could step out the door at any second. It was weird to look back in time with a woman who claimed to be from another more-advanced world by his side. Even weirder to breathe deeply of the wood smoke that teased his nose and hope they would find some warmth and shelter here, even if they found little else.
“There’s a fire!” Silk exclaimed. Before he could stop her, she ran toward the little house and wrenched open the door. He followed in a slipping rush, unsure of what he would see.
“I apologize. I did not recall that wood was burned for heat in your world.”
Silk was wrapped in a blanket beside a blazing fire that was kept contained in a small square hole in the wall. Davis was just pulling off his muddy shoes and wet socks.
“No need to be sorry, babe. That was wild. I never saw a Playboy Bunny covered in mud and playing fireman. You’ll forgive me if I remember it often.”
Silk did not understand his words, but the man who had greeted her entrance with laughter instead of surprise seemed very kind and helpful. He had helped her take off her shoes and he had frowned at Davis. Two things she found endearing at the moment.
Davis had frowned right back. In truth, he was still frowning, especially when the man mentioned bunnies and thoughts of her at night.
“So, old Pipe sent ya’. Hell, I’m glad she shared. I moved up here several years ago after some campers saw a UFO. Haven’t had any luck myself. Was just about ready to move on. Then I got her call.”
Davis Rule rolled his eyes. Silk saw him. He didn’t even try to hide his opinions of her or their host. He thought they were both crazy. That made her feel even warmer toward the gray-headed man looking at her as if she had single-handedly placed the stars in the sky.
“She thought you might be able to help me?” Silk said, pushing damp hair back from her face. She enjoyed the pleasant heat from the fire as it warmed her cheeks.
“Only if he has a degree in psychology,” Davis muttered.
This time, Solstice Meadows was the one who rolled his eyes.
“Man, you put off a seriously bad vibe. You should be thankful you were chosen for this experience.”
“He wasn’t really chosen, Solstice. It doesn’t work that way. We aren’t higher beings in the sense that we know the secrets of the universe,” she said it gently, hoping not to disillusion the man who seemed so kind.
He did look disappointed, but not for long.
“Answers? Hell, I gave up on answers a long time ago. I’m just looking to meet and greet. I want to be the welcoming committee, ya’ know?”
“Some, you would not want to welcome.”
She hated to spoil this carefree man’s existence. But he was playing with fire and not only to heat his home. With his long hair bound in a tail and his loose, brightly checked shirt, he was no match for the IL-Bah. Even the universal symbol for peace he wore around his neck on a chain would not save him should the IL-Bah come to this place.
“Don’t worry about me. I wasn’t always a hippy.” Solstice walked across the room and pulled open a narrow door. From inside the small storage space, he pulled a long, wicked looking projectile weapon. Even by Earth standards, it seemed dated. “I figure if I could survive ’Nam, I ain’t gonna be afraid of no little green men.”
“You can put that back now. Nice and slow.”
Both of them turned to Davis in surprise. His feet were bare. His legs spread. His gun drawn. He looked like a different man from the one who’d been removing his muddy shoes moments before. He looked serious and deadly.
“Hey, dude. No problem. If you’re with her, that’s good enough for me.”
Solstice slowly placed his gun back where he stored it. He carefully closed and bolted the door.
“Want some Darjeeling? Great brew. The best. Warm ya’ right up.” The older man grinned at the muscular young agent facing him down as if he was not staring at the firing end of a loaded weapon.
Davis was magnificent. He could have been in a sport arena preparing to do battle with a mechanized gladiator. His shirt was still damp from the rain. It hugged over his chest like a second skin. Silk swallowed. The curls on his head glistened with moisture in the firelight. She wished they were alone in this place. She wished he would accept her for who she really was.
Davis slipped his gun back in the holster hidden beneath his shirt and nodded curtly to Solstice’s offer. He did not look at her. She forced her thoughts and her gaze away from Davis. Though he had overreacted, Silk was glad to see his quick reflexes in action.
We might have a chance.
That optimistic thought sent shivers of fear down her spine.
Surely it was lunacy to believe it.
The floral arrangement sat in the corner of his office near a window both large and small enough to denote his position. Medium. Medium importance. It was a level he had chosen with care. He welded enough power to accomplish what he needed to accomplish, yet not so much that he would arouse suspicion with unusual behavior. At least, not in anyone he’d have a problem dealing with. Davis Rule’s watchful eyes had been easy enough to direct elsewhere.
He walked over to the exotic bouquet and softly trailed the pads of his fingers along the creamy fuchsia-tipped blossoms. Their scent, slightly sultry, slightly sweet, came to him in a pleasant waft. His groin tightened in response and he relished the not-unpleasant ache. He allowed himself a moment to remember. Even a strong man could be nostalgic.
It was her scent. She’d had the injection several years ago and the quick cosmetic procedure subtly caused her skin to emit this fr
agrance. It was the only vanity he’d ever known her to adopt. She would need another injection in a month or so, but by that time she wouldn’t need anything except the grave she slept in.
He grasped a petal between his thumb and forefinger and slowly slid those digits in a crushing slide, smearing the silky fluids of the ruined flower on his fingers. He regretted the necessity of her death even as he anticipated the execution of it. He was restless. The need for action was a part of him. It would always be there, coursing through his veins just as the flowers had their scent. Silk’s scent.
She had to die.
He brought his hand to his face and breathed deeply. Remembering. The door opened behind him.
“Mr. Kale. They’ve been spotted.”
The name still felt odd to his ears and he didn’t turn to acknowledge the man who had interrupted his thoughts. That didn’t stop the FBI agent from stepping through the door he had opened without a knock.
“The information we retrieved from Harding was accurate. They drove into the West Virginia hills.” Larkin paused as if he waited for a response.
Instead of responding, he reached to pluck the ruined bloom from the bouquet. He looked at the destroyed beauty of it as it rested on the palm of his hand for a long moment before he closed his fist around it.
“I never saw flowers like those before. You got connections in the rainforest?”
“I have connections,” he replied. He wondered what Larkin would think if he knew the flowers came from another world.
Finally, he turned. The tall, thin agent who called him William Kale stood just inside the threshold.
“Go.”
Larkin jumped as if his boss had shouted. Perhaps his expression had lent more force to the softly spoken command. He was still getting used to this new face.
“Bring her to me.”
“And Rule?”
He put the pulp of the crushed flower in his pocket and carefully composed the surgically crafted features of his new face into a smile.
“That depends on how badly he gets in the way.”
Larkin smiled in return, and with a quick nod that was just short of a bow, he left to do as he had been told.
The man who posed as William Kale sat down at his borrowed desk and picked up the phone. He didn’t press a button. He didn’t have to.
“We’ll have her soon.”
A bittersweet ache squeezed his heart as he spoke the words. It didn’t sway his resolve. He simply couldn’t wait to see her again. Besides, he knew Siilc. He knew she would die well.
They’d received an address in Pennsylvania from Solstice Meadows. This one they had to memorize because the man who described himself as a hip-ee didn’t believe in writing implements. He wrote nothing and burned the letters he received from Piper Jo. Silk let him burn the tiny note that had led them to him. They all watched as Piper’s red crayon scratches bled and melted and burned into nothingness.
“You can never be too careful, ya’ know? Never.”
Privately, Davis agreed. Not that there was anything to hide in the dusty little shack. They had learned nothing from Meadows. Aside from how to brew a great cup of tea.
He sipped his and watched as Silk laughed easily with their host. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was a flower child herself. Her bare toes peaked out from under her rump where she’d tucked her legs beneath her. She had a ratty old quilt draped around her shoulders like a shawl and her hair had dried in a frizzy mass of waves kissed by firelight.
He didn’t blame Meadows for fawning. He watched the older man taking every opportunity to touch Silk on the cheek, the shoulder, the top of her white-blonde head. At least he knew he wasn’t alone in the compulsion to touch her. He was just alone in resisting it.
“We should go,” he said, not hating the need to break up their love-fest, but hating his pleasure in doing so. Jealousy in this situation was ridiculous. The man was old enough to be Silk’s father. He didn’t understand the need he felt to get Silk away from Meadows and back into his sedan, alone.
“He is correct. It would be wrong for us to linger. We could bring danger to you.”
“I’ve had a lot of danger in my life. I haven’t had a lot of what you’ve brought into it, Silk. Wonder, joy, excitement—you’re a dream come true. I guess I always hoped there was more to life than what I’ve seen,” Meadows cleared his throat and reluctantly stood to see them out.
Davis felt like he’d conjured up a few of those storm clouds he’d thought of earlier in the day. They were currently raining all over Solstice Meadows’ parade. He didn’t know how he knew it, but he knew Meadows had not had the easiest life. It went beyond the man’s mention of Vietnam. You could see it in his eyes. He had come to these woods looking for something. He seemed to have found a mini-salvation in Silk’s visitation.
“Maybe we could stay a while longer,” Davis suggested. He doubted that they would be followed this soon.
“No. We must go,” Silk insisted.
Meadows hugged her then. A bone-crushing, full-body hug that lasted long enough to make Davis itch to break it up. Silk touched the man on one fuzzy cheek.
“I am grateful to you.”
“Likewise,” Meadows replied.
As Davis prepared to follow Silk out the door, a surprisingly strong hand grasped him by the arm.
“She’s tough, but she can’t do this alone.” The words were spoken in an urgent whisper.
Davis didn’t have the heart to throw the man’s sincerity back in his face.
“I’ll take care of her,” he promised, meaning something entirely different than what Meadows intended. The best way he could care for Silk would be to help her get psychiatric attention…as soon as he knew it wouldn’t endanger her life.
The trip down the drive took more time than the trip up. It was awkward, filled with missteps and sliding feet. They made it to the main road before dark. Dusk. That was the name for this shifting of day to night. Silk couldn’t see into the woods more than a few inches because of the ever-increasing darkness, but she could see the car. Rule had taped up the busted side window with something he called cardboard. The patch was a lopsided reminder that time was on Ronin’s side. Each day she wasted on the hunt meant another day his hunters could stalk her.
Silk stopped. She stood several paces in front of Davis Rule and swiveled in a circle.
“Something is wrong,” she said as Rule moved to her side. He attempted to keep walking, but she reached and grabbed his hand. The woods were silent. The road was silent. It was not a noise that made the hair on the back of her neck rising to attention. It was not a noise that made her nose burn.
Her fingers were small and cold against the warmth of Rule’s palm. He wrapped his hand around hers and squeezed. She ignored the silly gesture, but she was too busy looking into the trees to pull away.
“I smell fresh gasoline fumes.”
“It’s a public road, Silk. You might have caught a whiff from a passing car,” Davis reassured her, though he didn’t smell anything but wet leaves himself.
“No, it is a quiet road and the smell does not come from there.” Suddenly, from the dark trees to the left a motor roared into life. It was the spitting, jack-hammering roar of a small motor—high-pitched and revved hard.
“Dirt bikes,” Rule shouted over the din, but he did not seem concerned.
Silk didn’t think. She reacted. With a move that would have made an Enforcer proud, she shouldered her two hundred pound companion the last few feet to the car.
In the meantime, several other motors screamed from points all around. Hidden in the forest, the roar sounded like a pack of wild creatures converging for the hunt.
Silk caught a glimpse of more bikes erupting from shadows, spewing ripped-up foliage in their wake. At that point, she didn’t have to shove Davis into the car. He dove for cover and she followed. She ended up behind the wheel of a vehicle she had never driven. Fortunately, it was not a complicated machine.
<
br /> The motor of the sedan sounded like a whisper compared to the angry dirt bike howl, but Silk didn’t mind. She knew she could drive right over the small vehicles once she had the car on the road, if she got the car on the road. Her foot pressed the pad meant to cause forward motion, but the engine only revved louder. She stomped and received nothing but angry noise in return.
Davis reached across her lap and tugged a handle.
“Emergency brake,” he explained as the car popped forward. Great sprays of churned earth flew out beneath their wheels. A thunderous screech of rubber on metal assailed her eardrums. One biker had driven on top of the car. The car’s roof caved from the weight.
“Go, go, go,” Davis shouted.
They were already on the main road. She did not have time to point this out before she heard the biker from the roof yell as he and his bike were tossed off onto the pavement. She didn’t pause to wonder how a bike sliding on asphalt could sound like a snake’s scream. She knew it was an IL-Bah death cry.
There were three other dirt bikes, but their drivers thought twice about what she might do to them. The heavy sedan was deadly. When their comrade fell from the top of Rule’s car onto the road, he was a graphic illustration. The angry sound of their motors faded as she put distance between them.
“If they were after the cash, they could have taken it,” Davis almost shouted. Adrenaline rush made his words louder than necessary. “I can’t believe we left it in the trunk.”
“They do not want the cash. The cash is nothing. They want me—dead. That is what Ronin desires.” Silk’s voice was quiet in comparison to Rule’s shout. Almost a whisper. The close call had left her more shaken than she would care to admit. She was far from home, far from the usual resources she had always depended upon. And she had come close to death too many times.
“It’s probably gone. They probably jimmied the trunk and took it.”
Silk tried not to be annoyed. For Davis, the money was evidence. He would be upset with himself for not protecting it. She glanced at his face as she maneuvered the car down the twisty mountain road. In the light from the instrument panel, he looked stunned. He was shaken as well. Not by the attack, but by what he perceived as his failure to perform his duty.
Perfect Strangers Page 6