by Marlow Kelly
David continued, “Even if the job was legit, I could never be a part of it. I’m not a thug. But Marshall kept calling. He needed a favor. He wanted my help. And I owed him…everything. I couldn’t refuse.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “The charge of kidnapping, that’s something else. We really need Finn’s help. In the morning we’ll form a plan with the goal being to contact the FBI.”
“Good idea.” She snuggled closer. The sound of his heartbeat echoing through his chest was like a drug coaxing her to sleep.
“I have no intention of running and giving up my acreage and my future. I want to be left in peace, on my land, just me and my beehives.”
Marie’s throat tightened. It didn’t matter how much she liked him or how attracted she was to him. Even if they got through this mess, there was no future for them because he wanted to be left alone.
****
David listened to the even rhythm of Marie’s breathing. His pulse quickened as an image of her escaping the Paxtons at the airport flashed into his mind. He’d been so close to losing her. It was foolish, but since that moment, he held her hand at every opportunity, unable to let her out of his sight. She seemed comfortable with his touch, which was good because he had no intention of stopping. He’d read somewhere that deeper emotional bonds developed between people who touched each other. He wasn’t sure if that was true, but he’d enjoy trying. He had no right to want her as much as he did. She was beautiful, brilliant, and surprisingly passionate. He’d been shocked when she’d kissed him and had responded by acting like a teen. Despite that, she’d welcomed his desire and matched it with her own.
He’d like to show her his land, and maybe he could persuade her to live with him. Then again, that might not be a good idea. He was still pretty messed up and had no right to drag her into his bleak world.
She shifted in her sleep, wriggling closer. He rubbed his shaved chin across her head, reveling in the silky texture of her hair. Being clean-shaven felt strange and familiar at the same time. There were times in his career when he had grown his hair and beard long. It made it easier to infiltrate other cultures. But when he’d been in basic and in Special Forces training, he’d had a traditional military haircut. Getting rid of the beard had been a pain. After not shaving for a year, he was out of practice, and his skin was tender.
It had felt good to share a little bit of his past with Marie, as if he were finally releasing a weight that was tied around his ankles, pulling him under.
“She asleep?” Mac asked as he settled onto the loveseat opposite. He arranged a blanket so it covered him from his feet to his chest. His head rested on the arm of the chair, while his feet dangled off the other end.
There were contradictions in the old man’s story. How had he seen David and Marie on the news if he lived in an off-the-grid house? Although he said he’d just come from his lady friend’s house, so maybe he had seen them there. He had also recognized David immediately despite the fact that he had shaved his beard and cut his hair. But then again, Mac did claim to be an ex-cop so maybe he was more observant than the average person.
Not that any of the speculation mattered because he was still a lying son of a bitch. This place didn’t belong to his daughter. There was no evidence of a woman living here, despite the God-awful cat and lace theme. The old man would’ve been bound to a chair if it weren’t for the fact there was no ammunition or weapons in the house. This was a dangerous enough situation without having to worry about getting shot in the back. Perhaps he should have called Mac out, but he hadn’t because Marie had been through enough for one day. She needed rest, and he figured he could handle one out of shape old man without causing her more stress. He’d let her sleep. The morning would be here soon enough.
David’s mind flooded with questions. Was Klein connected with PDE, or was he only lying because he was scared? It was the second possibility that had stopped David from taking action and tying him up. The average person didn’t realize how much nerve damage could be inflicted by tight restraints, and he was reluctant to do that to a man who was just frightened. But he’d insisted they all sleep in the living room on the pretext that this room was warmer so they wouldn’t have to worry about freezing to death. That way he could keep an eye on Mac and make sure he didn’t try anything stupid. The phones were out, and he would know if Klein went for the kitchen knives.
There was nothing else to be done while the blizzard raged. In this moment, they were safe and warm. He would watch Mac and make a decision at sunrise.
Chapter Twenty
Marshall Portman slammed the smoked glass door of the conference room, not caring if it shattered. He wanted the computer nerd sitting at the oval table to know he was serious. Door slamming was juvenile, but it was also an effective way to communicate a subliminal show of force.
It was hard to believe the scrawny Native American was one of the world’s best hackers. Unlike most of the geeks Marshall employed, who were normally a disheveled mess, this one was stylishly dressed in expensive but informal attire. His hair was cropped short, and he wore a new, clean pair of blue jeans.
PDE investigators had discovered his real name, Michael Phillips, but he preferred to use his street name, Spider. He came highly recommended. It was rumored he had hacked into Homeland’s personnel files, apparently bypassing their multi-billion-dollar detection system. He was a fugitive, demanding a six-figure payday in return for his services, not that Marshall cared about his background, as long as he got the job done.
“Spider, I haven’t had a chance to talk to you since your arrival, but I wanted to welcome you to Public Domain Energy. I’ve heard good things about you.”
The hacker stopped typing on the two laptops that formed a vee on the tabletop in front of him and sat up straight. His black eyes blinked behind gold-rimmed glasses, but he said nothing.
Marshall continued. “You’ll work in this conference room. It’s across the hall from my office, and I’ll be able to keep an eye on you.” Then he turned his back and walked to the fifth-floor window.
The darkness of night coupled with snow obliterated the view of the square so that all he could see was his mirror image staring back at him. He’d always been a man comfortable with his own reflection, until now. He’d sacrificed David Quinn because he was the best candidate for a setup. He was a wounded vet, a loner, and there were questions about why he’d left the service. All that added up to a man on the edge, a man who would break into a woman’s cabin and kill her. That was the story Marshal had wanted to sell, and as much as he hated to sacrifice a good man, it was necessary. He’d been left with no choice. The Syndicate had assigned this task to him, and if he failed, they would kill him. They had made that very clear. Members were expected to do their part to maintain the status quo. This was his assignment because it was in his territory. It was as simple as kill or be killed.
“What progress have you made?” He needed David and the woman caught.
Using his index finger, Spider pushed his drooping glasses higher on his nose. “The tracking device your man attached to her backpack at the airport traveled west on highway two, but I lost it. It’s probably blocked by interference from the storm.”
“Can you pick it up again?”
He tilted his head to one side, thinking. “If it’s the blizzard—no problem. If the signal’s damaged—that’ll be a little trickier, but, with luck, I should be able to get it back once the snow stops.”
“It’s imperative we hunt them down. I have two men tracking them. Their names are Brad Harper and Mac Klein. Use the company directory to get their phone numbers. Mac called to say he had Quinn and Wilson cornered and was moving in. I’ve lost touch with him since then. Brad figures he will reach Mac’s last known location some time in the night. I want a situation report on both men as soon as possible.” He’d offered both Mac and Brad a substantial bonus to finish the job.
“I’m on it.” Spider focused on the screens in front of him, his fingers tapping
the keys. “Do you know what kind of tracking device they are using?”
I had my men attach it in case she managed to ditch her backpack. It’s new technology, a microscopic tracker, as small as the head of a pin, almost invisible. All they had to do was press against her and presto.” He waved his hands like a magician. “We can follow her.”
“Wow. Head of a pin?” Spider’s eyes widened.
Marshall was gratified to see that he was suitably impressed. “I also want you to control the media on this. I took out the airport cameras, but there are several personal videos of my men trying to grab Wilson at the airport. My people have managed to shut most of them down, but I need an absolute blackout.”
Spider leant back in his chair. His dark eyes glittered. “Shutting down social media will cost more.”
“Money is not a problem.
“What if they split up?”
“Follow Wilson. She’s the most important target. She is smart and rich, but she’s a loner. Quinn is just the distraction. I want you to plaster his name over the media.”
“I thought you wanted me to shut down—”
“Media can be a useful tool. We are going to spread the story that Quinn has PTSD. There’s been some question about his discharge from the army. We’re going to add that to the mix and let the media focus on him. Dr. Wilson will be the victim of his deranged mind.”
“That way we’ll keep the story off her and her achievements and have the news vultures concentrate on him.”
“That’s right. I want everyone in the country hunting him. I want to make it impossible for them to leave Elkhead County. Once the police have him, we can arrange to have them killed.”
Marshall pictured David as a skinny teen. He had taken the young man under his wing, hoping one day he would be ready for a trusted position at PDE. Quinn was intelligent, good with languages, and honest. Unfortunately, he’d returned to Montana a burned-out shell, shattered by his own actions in combat. That had made him perfect for one last mission.
“You won’t be disturbed here, but be aware I have technicians checking on you.”
Spider smiled, revealing a set of perfect white teeth. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
Marshall glanced at his watch, an extremely rare Rolex chronograph. For a Rolex, it was understated with a leather strap and cream face. At first glance, it didn’t look like a one-of-a-kind, million-dollar timepiece, and that suited him perfectly. Flaunting his wealth in the faces of the people of Granite City was not productive. The slim, solid gold hands told him it was approaching nine o’clock. He wouldn’t go home tonight. There was no point, not with the blizzard raging outside.
He dialed his wife’s number as he strolled to his office.
Lucy picked up on the first ring. “Hello, sweetheart.”
He ground his teeth at the sound of her sickly-sweet voice. “I won’t be able to make it home tonight, not with the blizzard.”
“I heard there was a problem.”
“Yes, your man, Harper, failed.”
“He’s not my man. He’s the Syndicate’s.”
He wasn’t going to argue with her. He suspected Harper was one of her lovers, and she had arranged his recommendation so she could keep him close.
“I have to stay and deal with the issue.” That was the truth, but he would also enjoy a night away from her scrutiny.
“I’ll be in as soon as the roads are cleared.” On the outside, Lucy Portman seemed demure, maybe even a little uptight, but in reality, she was a she-devil who used her body to manipulate men and women alike. He’d met her two years ago. She’d hooked him with a mind-blowing mix of kinky sex and business acumen. They’d married within six months. There were those who said he was a fool who was too old to satisfy his young, attractive wife. They were right. Although in truth, her infidelities didn’t bother him. He hoped and prayed for the day she would leave him. He would give her anything she wanted, his home, his business, even his money, if she would just get out of his life. But she refused to go, and he couldn’t leave her. She came from money and had connections to the most powerful people in the world. Just the thought of the Syndicate made him shudder. They were a collection of powerful men with enough influence to control the distribution of wealth and the future of the country. They were the ones who decided what products were on the shelves in the supermarkets, what cars were available, how the nation used their energy reserves, and which stories appeared in the media.
After their wedding, Lucy arranged for him to join their ranks. At first, he’d been flattered. He enjoyed the benefits that came with being part of the elite group. They impeded all developments that threatened their success. In theory, he didn’t have a problem with that. He himself had purchased and dismantled a number of new inventions that could jeopardize his monopoly, but murder was a new game. He wasn’t opposed to it morally. He just didn’t like the idea of being on the losing end.
Chapter Twenty-One
Marie stumbled down the stairs, following the aroma of coffee. She had dampened down her waves as best she could in the bathroom, but one curl insisted on standing straight up on end. Her short hair wasn’t like the shock and fear of yesterday, nor the disbelief of discovering someone wanted her dead. But it was another blow, a reminder when she looked in the mirror that everything had changed and she could never go back.
A good night’s sleep would’ve helped, but nightmares had punctuated her dreams. She’d awoken several times and been aware of the chill in the air, the glow from the woodstove, and David. Leaning against his warm, hard body was reassuring and arousing at the same time.
The blizzard had stopped sometime in the night. The howling wind and driving snow were gone, leaving behind a landscape that was covered in a clean, white blanket.
Her breath caught at the view from the large living room window. Stretched out before them was a magnificent landscape that encompassed forests, rivers, and a flat snow-covered prairie in the distance. The cabin was situated on the side of a hill. At the bottom of the valley was a small ice-covered creek. Pine trees peppered the property, each one covered with distorted mounds of snow. The effect was breathtaking.
David smiled as she entered the kitchen, making her heart do a little flip.
“Mac has offered us the use of his cabin.” He looked relaxed, one foot crossed over the other as he leant against the counter, drinking coffee from a mug that declared Truth fears no questions.
She was all too aware of his masculinity and her physical response to him. Just one glance, and her breathing hitched and pulse quickened.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” She turned to Mac. “Won’t you get in trouble with the police for helping us?”
Mac Shrugged. “I figure you need a place to lie low for a few days and decide what to do next. I made flapjacks. Why don’t you sit and eat?” He headed for the stairs. “I’ll just use the facilities, and then we’ll go.”
Marie nodded and sat at the table. She wasn’t particularly hungry, but the idea of pancakes with syrup cheered her up. As far as she was concerned, the road to happiness was paved with carbs and sugar.
David sat beside her, pointed a finger toward the ceiling, and whispered, “Listen.”
She stopped eating and strained, paying attention to every sound. The world was still; there were no birdcalls, no cars, and no people—nothing. Then she heard the faint murmur of someone talking. She smiled. “Is Mac talking to himself?”
“The son of a bitch must’ve pocketed the cell phone. He’s been lying. This isn’t his daughter’s cabin.”
“How do you know?”
There are no women’s clothes or female products of any kind.”
“Why would he lie?”
“I can’t think of a good reason. I’m even more worried about who he’s calling.”
They sat in silence, struggling to hear. The low tone of Mac’s voice suggested deception. She shoved her plate away, her appetite gone, as her stomach twisted in a n
auseating knot. Once again, she was reminded of her poor judgment when it came to people. She’d believed Mac was a nice old man who’d needed shelter from the storm, but David had seen something else, something that made him suspicious.
“Whatever happens, stay close to me.” David grabbed the shotgun off the kitchen counter and loaded it. “Go pack up the panel and then put on your coat and boots.”
She did as he asked and then slung her backpack over her shoulders. She rummaged around the floor of the mudroom until she found their hats and mitts. She passed David his and then slipped hers on.
Once David was dressed for the cold, he shrugged into the purple backpack and squeezed her hand. “Remember, stay close.”
She nodded, straightened her shoulders, and controlled her breathing. Be strong.
Mac’s footsteps sounded on the stairs.
****
If he hadn’t sworn off killing, David would have happily choked Mac. It was bad enough that the older man had lied to them, but his duplicity hurt Marie. She would never be a master poker player, or even a competent liar. Her expressive face revealed every emotion, thought, and feeling. The color had drained from her cheeks, and her lips were pressed into a thin, colorless line. They were small nuances, but were as obvious to him as neon signs.
“Shall we go?” Mac walked to the mudroom and stuffed his feet into his snow boots. “Are you going to give me my gun?”
“No, I’m keeping it.” David stood at the threshold between the kitchen and mudroom, holding the weapon.
Mac’s eyes widened. “I thought—”
“Who did you call?”
“My lady friend—”
“Save it. You lied about this being your daughter’s house. Now I’d really like you to tell us the truth. Who did you call?”