Immortal Cascade 05 Immortal Endgame

by Carol Roi

  "From what I understand, she didn't stick around much longer than you did. She and Blair had a disagreement over who exactly was responsible for the attack on me, and he tossed her out. Since the two of you come as a matched set, I'm going to have to ask you to leave, too, LaFollet. It's too dangerous for any of us to stay here at the moment. I'll give you five minutes to pack your things."

  Nodding, the ex-SEAL replied, "I understand, Diandra. I won't take long." He headed across the studio and down the short hallway to the room he'd been using.

  With a sigh, Dee tucked her katana away in her mid-length leather jacket and went back to packing weapons.

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  Blair tossed a couple pairs of clean boxers and socks into a duffle bag, along with some tees, flannel shirts and a pair of jeans. He grabbed his toothbrush and shaving stuff from the bathroom, then wandered back through the kitchen. There was no note left in its customary place on the fridge, and he'd already checked the answering machine. He was going to kill Jim. How moving Eolia to a safe house had taken precedence over checking to make sure his Guide was okay after viewing the mess in the loft was a mystery to Blair. Under normal circumstances, Jim would have been frantic until he'd laid eyes on Blair, needing to ascertain for himself that his friend was unharmed.

  The fact that he wasn't here, that he hadn't called, indicated to Blair that Lee must have fed him a string of lies. She surely hadn't mentioned the fact that Dee's attacker had been Brad Ventriss, or that he was immortal. If Jim had known that, there was no way he would have left until the little bastard was behind bars. Or at least that was what Blair hoped. It was way too painful to think that Jim had chosen to go with her knowing the truth.

  Hoisting his backpack onto the dining table, Blair dug through it, pulling out books and papers he wouldn't need. His hand closed around the folder holding the information he'd gathered on Eolia, the Watchers files, the CIA stuff from Jack Kelso, and his notes on the case for Brad Ventriss being immortal. He stared at it for a moment, trying to decide what to do. The image of Dee staggering across her loft toward him, blood pouring from her wounds flashed in his mind's eye. "That could have been Jim," he whispered, his words echoing in the empty loft.

  Ripping a blank page out of one of his notebooks, Blair scribbled a hasty summary of what had happened that day, and Lee's part in it. Folding it into thirds, he wrote Jim's name on it and laid it on top of the folder, centering the file on the table where Jim would be sure to see it. Zipping up his pack and grabbing the duffle bag, Blair exited the loft.

  As he closed the door behind him, a small gust of wind swirled around the edges of the plywood covering the window in his room. The folded piece of paper slid across the table, drifting slowly to the floor, a second blast of cold air sending it scooting under the edge of the sofa.

  Part 21

  Jim sat back on the couch, staring at the young woman seated next to him, the one who didn't look old enough to have been a National Intelligence Officer for years. "The Farm? You mean the CIA's training facility in Virginia?"

  "Yes." She angled her body a little bit on the seat, halfway turning to face him. "Jim, when I met Azir, he was already an agent, and after a while, I decided to join up as well."

  "Why?"

  She quirked an oddly sad smile. "Because the Company prefers its Field Officers to have partners, or spouses, they can trust. Besides, who would suspect a young couple of being intelligence officers? Especially if one is listed as an Embassy attaché while the other was listed merely as a secretary?"

  He had to admit it did make sense. His own experiences with 'spooks' like Lee Brackett, and the one who had done the piss-poor pre-mission brief for his insertion team, had left Jim with a sense of foreboding when it came to any federal agent, be they CIA or FBI. He was brought back from his mental wanderings as Lee stood up. "Lee?"

  "You need to think about what I told you, Jim. I think it's warmed up enough in here now. I really want to try to relax." She placed her empty mug on the table. "I think I'll see if there's any hot water in the tank, then take a shower."

  Jim watched as she disappeared down the hall. Draining off the last of his own tea, he stood up, collected the mugs in one hand and returned to check on the progress of the stew he'd started. The idea that Lee Eolia and her husband had been, or in Lee's case may still be, involved in the CIA brought a few old fears of his rising to the surface. Having worked covert operations, he knew if you were going to work your way in close to a target, you didn't move fast. In most cases, you took your time, up to a year, to get close to your target. Mainly to make them more comfortable with you as their newfound friend, before you asked anything too detailed from them. Field craft was the way you managed to get your information, the way you passed it on to your contacts, all neatly lined out in such a way you never really knew who was handling your assignment. That way, in case something went down -- like getting your cover blown to hell -- there was no one you could name to the 'enemy.'

  Five days since he met her, five days. Too fast for her to be part of some larger operation to get close to him, or to Blair, so maybe she was just what she appeared to be: a mere victim of circumstance, a part-time NIO for the CIA, and the owner and President of WindHawk Securities, International. Tasting the broth, he decided to add a little more pepper to the mix that he'd thrown together from various canned goods before grabbing another mug of tea for himself. He'd just settled back down on the couch when the sound of the shower greeted his sensitive ears.

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  The shower I take does wonders to decrease the tension in my back, and dressing in my faded blue jeans and a heavy green sweatshirt emblazoned with the logo of WindHawk helps me to relax further. While I was in the shower, Jim finished up the stew he concocted and he also managed to find a small radio somewhere.

  While we eat, Jim takes the time to reassure me that my past, or future, with the Company doesn't really bother him, but I sense that maybe he isn't being entirely truthful. I tell him that while I was ready to tell the Agency to shove off, I have also requested an assignment that could very well take me out of country. Llewyllyn Huddleston has managed to find me such a post, and I have to take it, if only to honor my word to the DDO.

  Jim insists on cleaning up the kitchen himself, and I use the time to myself to meditate. I really feel, well, pressured to get back into top form, and meditation, followed by a few katas in the room I picked out, would help me to get there. I am halfway through my last routine when a soft knocking on the bedroom door allows me half a second to compose my thoughts before my latest watchdog walks in.

  "You doing okay, Lee?"

  "Yeah. Just trying to work through a few things in my mind." I watch him closely as he leans that strongly built body against the doorframe.

  "Like what?"

  Damn, he's doing it again, that head cocking motion which had intrigued me earlier. Could it be? Only one way to find out. "I've been watching you, Jim. I've seen you do something that tells me that I'm in the presence of one of two things." He doesn't answer aloud, just raises that eyebrow of his in askance. "You're either a psychic, or you have a highly tuned sense of hearing."

  "Why do you say that?" Goddess. He's almost as good as me at letting the subject run off at the mouth.

  "Because, I worked on a team while on hiatus from the Company that was studying such things."

  "Psychics, or the other one?"

  "Heightened senses." Okay, that does it. The blood nearly rushes from his face.

  My eyes pop open in amazement when he starts to laugh. "Heightened senses? That's a good one. Never heard of the government looking into that."

  "It's true! I personally tested four subjects with heightened hearing. They all had one thing in common -- they'd tilt their heads towards whatever they were to listen for and then parrot what they heard." Even as I let th
e words out, I realize if Jim does have exceptional hearing, it's heightened to a degree I never saw before.

  "Okay, I guess I can tell you. After all, you spotted the signs and told me of your involvement in the CIA. I test out at near ultrasonic levels for sound detection. Dog whistles nearly drive me to my knees."

  I hold my breath, shocked that this man who barely knows me, has just given me a weapon to use against him. Good thing my old Training Agent is no longer in the service or Jim would come under very close scrutiny by one Lee Brackett. "How do you cope with it?"

  He shrugs, then motions for me to follow him back out to the living area as he explains. "I've learned to tune out most things. Sandburg's helped me in that area. He's helped a number of people do the very same thing. He's quite good at teaching others, especially stubborn cops."

  I follow him out of my room, wondering what could be going through his mind. Maybe telling him of my association with the Company wasn't such a good idea. No, I had to tell him. It would be seriously unfair to the man if I am to get involved with him, only to have the phone ring some day and then disappear on him. I don't want to hurt this man and by being up front with him from the beginning, then I protect him. Right?

  The soft sound of music from the late 40's drifts to my ears as I enter the living room. My breath catches in my throat when I realize the only light illuminating the place is from the handful of candles he must have found somewhere. The fireplace is lit as well. "Jim?"

  His expression is soft as he turns to face me. His eyes are thoughtful but not cold. "Lee, I won't lie to you. The idea that you're a spook, that you work for the CIA, bothers me. But I'm willing to try to live with it, as long as you don't try to pull me into it as well."

  "I wouldn't do that" Well, if I needed a cover&

  "You could, even if you didn't want to." Damn, maybe he is psychic. "I've dealt with the CIA before, and both times, I came away from the experience with a bad taste in my mouth." He's reaching out to me, guiding me towards the couch, then pulls me down to sit beside him, holding me close. "I was once part of the Army's Seventh Group, Rangers. One of my last missions was conducted under less than ideal conditions and on bad intelligence the CIA had reportedly gathered for us. It went wrong, very wrong."

  The pain in his voice, the haunted look in his azure orbs, nearly breaks my heart. How many of his team members died, needlessly, because of bad intel? "Jim, I understand. And I promise you, no matter what happens between us, I'll never allow the Company to pull you into the shadows." I'd rather take my own head before letting the assholes in Ops get a hold of this man. For some reason, I want, no, I need to protect him from that type of exploitation.

  He hugs me closer and, for a while, we're content to just sit there; watching the fire dance in the fireplace, listening to soft music, holding each other close. Two trilling phones decide to interrupt our moment of mutual simplicity.

  One is ringing close by, on the end table beyond Jim. The other is chirping from the coffee table, where I had placed my waist bag earlier. Jim and I reach for our phones, barely pulling apart, but whoever is calling me, hangs up before I can answer. I only get a dial tone, and they didn't leave a voice mail. Oh, well. If it was important, they'll call back.

  "Ellison. Yeah, sorry, I meant to call you earlier, Captain. We got in about an hour or so ago." I clasp his hand, which is reaching out to me as he talks to his commander. "Oh? Was he hard to shake? Yeah, that sounds about right. He's tenacious& What? She did? Oh, that's just great. Uh-huh. Sure, I'll be in in the morning, providing the weather holds, about nine. Yeah, I'll be there. No, I left a message for her bodyguard, and I'll have her contact him in a few minutes and ask him to meet us at the station. Thanks, Simon."

  I'm curious, I'll admit that, but if I needed to know, I'm sure Jim would tell me. "I guess I need to call Jan-Michel?"

  "Might want to."

  "Okay." I pick up my satellite phone and get up off the couch. "I'll be right back." I look to see him staring at me. "Uh, if I do manage to get him on the line, he may need to have his feathers smoothed. I do that better without an audience." I start to walk back towards my room. "You told your Captain 0900 hours, right?"

  "Yeah." I leave the room and, after closing the door to the smaller bedroom, I dial the familiar number. I'm connected to LaFollet's voice mail. "Jan? Lee. I'm okay. I know you must have gotten the note Ellison left. I just didn't want you to panic, or try to locate me. I'll be fine. Lay low. Keep your eyes open and your weapons handy. If you do manage to run into a problem, shoot first, run like hell, and we'll handle the rest later. Also, plan to meet me at the central precinct house, where Major Crimes is, at 0900 hours. Don't lose your head." I disconnect, making sure I send any incoming calls to my voice mail. I can't help but wonder where Jan-Michel has disappeared to. He made me a promise, and Diandra taught him the lesson, so I know that he's not out drinking. I hope.

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  Jim waited until he was sure Lee had closed the door of her room before picking up his cell phone again. Connecting to his voice mail service he listened to the one message logged there. "Jim, this is Blair. When you get this message, call me. I need to let you know what's going on here. Dee and I are safe, just in case you were worried. We're staying the night at Megan's. You got her number right? And watch your head."

  Watch my head, Chief? You've been spending too much time with Dee and other Immortals and Watchers. Better get this out of the way. Dialing the familiar number, he sighed as he realized that he'd just been shunted over to Sandburg's voice mail. "Chief, I got the story from Ms. Eolia. I want you to know we're at the safe house. And it's better if you and Dee avoid the loft for a while. Staying with Connor is a good idea. I'll call you if anything happens. And before you start to worry that longhaired head of yours -- I spotted the tails that Simon sicced on me. Jorgenson and McMillian are good, but not good enough to hide from me. See you at the station tomorrow."

  He closed down the phone just as he heard the door to Lee's room open back up.

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  The living room is still bathed in fire glow when I return, and I have a hard time spotting him at first. He's over by the wood stove, closing the door after checking on the banked fire. "Did you get a hold of him?"

  "No. I got his voice mail. I left a message." I cross the hardwood floor, only to be intercepted by my 'guardian.' "Jim?"

  "Would you be willing to at least think about coming back to Cascade, after you return to New York?"

  What is he asking? "Jim, I'm not sure I'm ready to commit to that just yet."

  "Not ready to settle down again?" He reaches out and picks my hand up from my side. "I know, you're still grieving Azir's death, but I'd like to know if I have a chance with you."

  I reach up to caress his face with my right hand. "You've always had a chance, Jim. I'll think about it."

  He presses those sensual lips to my palm, and the fire that runs through my body is traitorous. "That's all I'm asking, Lee. Because, as shallow as this sounds, I'm not sure I could leave Cascade."

  With a subtle dance move, I twist into his arms, his hands ending up on my shoulders, my back against his chest. "I would never ask you to leave your home. Besides, this was to be my last trip as President and CEO of WindHawk, so I could retire out here. But I have an assignment for the Agency to take care of first. I report in two weeks, but I could come back here when I'm through. If you want me to?"

  Lips lower to my neck, leaving a burning trail from behind my ear to my shoulder. "I think I would." Then I'm spun around to face him. "Now, since we've decided that you might just come back here, and we're both adults& ?"

  "And there's no one for miles to barge in& " My arms go around his neck.

  "Exactly." His hands are on my hips, pulling me even closer to him.

  "It really wouldn't be a one-night stand, now wou
ld it?" I'm on my toes, leaning in towards that wonderful hard body of his, my tongue coming out to lick my lips.

  "My thoughts too." We move together in unspoken mutual agreement toward the couch, our hands beginning to explore, our mouths meeting in a kiss so deep my toes actually start to tingle with excitement, along with the rest of my body. It's been a while since I've felt this stirring in my gut, and I love it. Always have. If that makes me a whore, so be it, but I enjoy being a woman.

  Megan looked up from her desk as her Champion stalked into Major Crimes, Blair practically trotting to keep up with her long strides. "Dee! Dee, hang on a minute! Think this through! You were calm about this ten minutes ago--"

  "I had the drive over here to consider just how inconsiderate and insensitive Ellison's been today. We both have cell phones, answering machines, voice mail, email. Even a goddamn note addressed to either one of us would have been nice." Megan felt Dee's intense gaze fall on her, and Diandra changed course, heading toward her. "Pajara, have you seen Ellison?"