Reviving Trish (Project DEEP Book 2)

by Becca Jameson

  She nodded.

  He hastily zipped up the backpack and shrugged it onto his shoulders. “Let’s go.” And then he was on the move.

  She stayed right behind him, her gaze scanning constantly. Silence. Not a single person in her line of sight. The absence of Jack or either of his men made her skin crawl with unease.

  And they had another problem. How the hell were they going to identify anyone they saw as friendly or not? The enemy could easily be dressed in the same dark clothing as the men protecting them.

  As they slinked as silently as possible away from the small cave, Trish held her breath for long seconds at a time, trying to ensure she could hear every twig or branch or rustling in the brush. The crunch of snow. The swish of warm clothing as it rubbed against itself. Anything.

  They moved along slowly, carefully picking their way forward while avoiding making any more noise than necessary.

  Tushar glanced back at her several times, but he didn’t coddle her. They were both equally trained for combat situations—which meant very little since neither of them had ever seen combat. She needed her husband to pay attention to the possible enemy, however, not her.

  Adrenaline pumping, she kept up with him easily. She might have initially doubted the intentions of whoever had cut the fence and made their way onto the ranch property, but there was little doubt now of their intent. Gunfire cleared that up.

  SURVIVE was the best in the world at what they did, however. She felt confident they were actively in pursuit.

  Another shot made her hesitate, and she had to bite her lip to keep from making any noise as three more shots rang out. She hated the thought that any of the men who worked for Davin might lose their lives protecting her and Tushar.

  When Tushar came to a halt in front of her, Trish glanced at him and then followed his line of sight. He was nodding.

  Thank God. One of Davin’s men was yards away, making hand signals to indicate which direction they should head. As Trish and her husband made their way behind the completely black-clad member of SURVIVE, he scanned the area, gun held up and ready. He glanced at Trish and nodded as she passed by.

  Another series of hand signals indicated the best path, and five minutes later Trish eased into another cave along the base of the mountain, this one larger than the last.

  She held her breath intermittently, listening intently. For several minutes she heard nothing but the sounds of nature. Their protector was no longer in sight, and she imagined him setting up a perimeter. Surely Davin’s men had a means of communication between them.

  Tushar wrapped his hand around her forearm and handed her a water bottle. She took a sip and gave it back. While he was reaching behind himself to tuck the bottle back in his pack, another hand grabbed Trish’s arm, this one with much more force.

  She twisted her head to find the man who’d led them to safety staring down at her. For a moment, relief flooded her body, and then she noted the look in his eyes. This was not one of Davin’s men. This was the enemy.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Tushar growled.

  The man yanked Trish in front of him, knocked her weapon out of her hand, and put his gun to her temple. “Drop your gun or she’s dead.”

  Oh my God. Oh my God. Trish’s body stiffened as she found herself pressed against this guy’s chest. Her scarf fell away from her face, and her hat fell off her head to land on the ground. She couldn’t breathe. Fear slammed into her, making it difficult to think. Her gaze followed Tushar as he set his gun on the ground and then lifted his hands in the air. “There’s no reason for anyone to get hurt. Tell me what you want, and I’ll make it happen.”

  The guy growled. His next words were low and deep and barely above a whisper. “What I want right now is for you to shut the fuck up. Not a sound. If either of you makes a sound, I will shoot you both without flinching. I don’t care if I take you alive or leave you here dead.”

  That last part unnerved Trish on a new level. What was the aim of these people if they didn’t want her or Tushar alive? She couldn’t wrap her head around that reality. The situation was far more dire than she expected if whoever hired this guy had given him permission to kidnap or kill.

  The look on Tushar’s face and the widening of his eyes told Trish he was thinking the same thing. He tugged his scarf down so she could see his entire expression.

  Trish flinched against her captor’s chest when more shots sounded in the vicinity. How many men were with him? Did Davin’s men know one of the bad guys was holding her and Tushar hostage?

  The guy was huge. Over six feet and he outweighed her by over a hundred pounds. The grip he had on her arm as he held her against his frame was firm enough to break the bone if he wanted.

  The cold metal at her temple was a constant reminder that he had no problem shooting her in the head and leaving her there to die.

  She scrambled to keep her feet under her as he dragged her toward the edge of the cave. Cold air hit her face, stinging her eyes as her cheeks flushed hot. “Stay where I can see you.” He removed the barrel from her forehead to point to a spot across from him where he intended Tushar to stand. And then he scanned the area. What was he hoping for? A signal? Help?

  His accent indicated he was from somewhere in the south, but his features were completely covered with a black mask that permitted her no details to describe him.

  Tushar was staring at her, and she held his gaze, hoping whatever he intended to communicate would somehow travel between them. He was scowling, however, and his stance was stiff. He also paid no attention to the outside of the cave. His entire focus was on her with small glances to the movements of her captor.

  God, she wished she could read his mind. She did not get the impression he was simply taking her in. He had a plan. An idea.

  Another round of shots. Too many to count. Someone had a semi-automatic weapon. She prayed it was one of the good guys.

  Shouts indicated people were close by. That was a good sign, but it sounded like a war zone, or at least what she would expect a war zone to sound like. For a moment she regretted having never been in a combat situation. Maybe she would be better equipped to handle this scenario if she had been.

  She was shocked by her ability to hold the fear at bay and concentrate on how they were going to get out of this. She was alert and aware of every sound. Every voice. Every shot. The crunch of boots. Voices. Instead of a full-fledged panic, she went into fight mode. She certainly had no intention of dying on this mountain when she had so much left to do in this life.

  The man holding her never released his grip on her wrist, nor did he lower his gun from her head as he seemed to be waiting for instructions or communication from someone.

  Every glance at Tushar solidified her thought that he was formulating a plan. He was also inching closer.

  She couldn’t imagine what he intended to do since he was significantly shorter and less bulky than the man holding her. It wasn’t as though he could knock the gun from the guy’s hand or jump him. On the flip side, the determination on his face reminded her Tushar indeed had a more vested interest in keeping her alive than the two fucks her captor gave about whether or not she died.

  While the bulky brute leaned out of the cave to get a better view, Tushar’s gaze darted around, his eyes wide.

  Trish knew he was trying to communicate with her. She watched him intently, somehow managing to ignore the cold wind as it struck her in the face. Her hair was damp from wearing the hat, and now she was losing heat from her scalp.

  Tushar’s gaze narrowed on her. She held it and watched as he glanced down and then back up. Again. And again. Rapid flickering of his eyes toward the ground. If he wanted her to go limp and drop to the ground, he was crazy. She wasn’t holding herself up with any effort at all. The man was holding her like a rag doll.

  She narrowed her gaze, hoping to convey the impossibility of his suggestion—if that’s what it was.

  Shots grew closer. Shouting was louder. And th
en a second man stepped into view. She realized he was on the wrong team when he nodded at her captor and glanced at Tushar.

  “Grab the scientist. Let’s go,” the man holding her ordered.

  Dammit. This was not good.

  But just as the newcomer reached out toward Tushar, another shot rang out. It must have hit the guy in the back of the head. His eyes widened for a second, and then he dropped face-first to the ground.

  “Fuck,” the man holding Trish shouted.

  “Now,” Tushar yelled a moment later.

  Trish realized her captor had relaxed his hold on her the moment his partner hit the ground. She gave a quick jerk in his grip and managed to slide down his body several inches, causing him to lose his hold on her. He had to lower his gun in an attempt to keep from losing her.

  The last thing Trish thought before a second shot rang out was how the hell this maneuver was going to be helpful. And then her ears were ringing and she was falling, being pulled toward the ground by the heavy weight of the man at her back.

  She jerked her gaze to Tushar to find him lowering a gun as he rushed forward. Warm liquid slid across her cheek as her captor slumped all the way forward, pinning her to the ground. She scrambled to get out from under the dead weight, shoving at his chest until Tushar managed to lift him off her and grab her arm.

  Her heart was racing as she scampered away from the man and turned to look back. Tushar had shot him in the forehead. His eyes were still open. His lips parted.

  She closed her eyes as her husband pulled her into his embrace and then wiped the blood from her face with the corner of his scarf. His eyes were narrowed. “You okay?”

  All she could do was nod before shadows forced them to spin around and face the entrance to the cave. Davin’s frame blocked the light, two men flanking him. He was breathing heavily as he took in the scene.

  She didn’t need anyone to tell her it was over. She simply closed her eyes and leaned against Tushar, dipping her face into his chest while she tried to catch her breath. “I want this goddamn tracker removed from my arm ASAP.”

  “Agreed.” He held her tighter.

  Chapter 10

  Two days later…

  Trish blinked her eyes open as a crick in her neck made her wince. It only took a second to remember where she was.

  She lifted a hand to rub out the kinks on her shoulder and stared out the windshield before glancing at Tushar. “How long was I asleep?”

  “A few hours.” He was smiling when he glanced at her before returning his focus to the road.

  “You want me to drive for a while?”

  “No. I’m stopping at the next exit for the night anyway. We’re about halfway home. We should arrive by afternoon tomorrow. It’s only about six more hours.” He reached for her hand and brought it to his lap. His thumb brushing over the back of her hand was soothing.

  Home. She liked the sound of that. There was no way to predict what the future might look like, but as long as they were back in Colorado, close enough to see Ryan and Emily on a regular basis, she would be able to breathe easily.

  They faced a long road of uncertainty, but she felt stronger now than a month ago. She knew she could be of help in the bunker as the rest of the team came back to the living. There was a lot to be done and so many unanswered questions.

  Tushar was much more relaxed about their return than he had been two days ago. He seemed eager instead of reluctant. She wasn’t sure if his change of heart was due to their near-death experience, or if he was finally ready to sink his mind back into research. In either case, it had been interesting listening to him reason with Temple on the phone as he convinced her they would be safer inside the bunker where they could also be of use to the new research team in some capacity.

  The two men who had tried to capture them were both dead. That made it very difficult to find out who hired them and why. It was unnerving, and although Tushar had spoken to Temple at length about the possibilities, both of them had done nothing more than bang their heads against the wall.

  Was it a coincidence that someone had also abducted Emily? Were the two incidents in any way related? It seemed impossible. The man who had taken Emily was a distraught father of a preserved child who died of leukemia. He was in jail awaiting trial. It was ludicrous to think he would have orchestrated something else from behind bars. And why would he?

  In the end, it seemed there could be no connection. Random groups of people had separate agendas when it came to the team of reanimated people. Every member of the team would need to be diligent for their entire lives.

  Trish’s conversations with Temple had largely centered around the idea of giving everyone who was willing new identities. Emily had toyed with the idea herself, but falling in love with Ryan had put a period on that idea. Trish and Tushar had zero interest in reinventing themselves and leaving Ryan, so it was out of the question. The concept would be posed to Dade and then the rest of the team, however.

  She couldn’t imagine how many of them would take Temple up on the idea. No matter how long they had been preserved, every member of the team would wake up a scientist just as they’d been when they entered the cryostats. Who among them would give up their life’s work in order to preserve their safety?

  This was a questions each team member would have to answer for themselves. But Trish intended to be there for everyone from now on. She was strong. She could do anything, and one day she would be refreshed enough in medicine to reenter the lab. Tushar would too.

  Trish plopped down on the bed as soon as they entered the hotel room and stared at the ceiling. “I shouldn’t be tired. I slept most of the way here.”

  Tushar perched on the edge of the mattress and rested a hand on her thigh. “You’ve been through a lot. More than most humans endure in a lifetime.”

  She tipped her head his direction. “What do you mean? All I did was take a three-week vacation on a gorgeous Montana ranch,” she joked, a giggle escaping her lips as she rolled toward him and propped her head up on one hand.

  He shrugged. “Right. I mean who would count the ten-year hibernation, weeks of physical therapy, finding out your kid is thirty, oh, and narrowly escaping death by two madmen?”

  She laughed again. “Semantics.”

  He smiled at her, his face sobering as he smoothed his hand up her body and then cupped her face. “I like that sound.”

  “What sound?” She tried to imagine what he was referring to in the silent room.

  “Your laughter. I haven’t heard it in a long time.”

  She tipped her face into his palm and planted a kiss on the smooth skin. “I was napping. It was hard to laugh.”

  “Napping? Is that what we’re calling it now? Shall we tell the other team members they were taking a nap as they wake up?”

  She smiled. “It’s not a bad idea.”

  He released her face and gave her a shove so that she fell onto her back. Two seconds later he was on the bed, straddling her body, his hands holding him aloft on both sides of her head. “Do it again.”

  “What?” she asked, batting her eyes. This new Tushar was intriguing. He’d shown her a side of himself she couldn’t remember just days ago, and here he was doing it again. Sexy. Playful. Dominant.

  He sat up, grabbed her hands, and hauled them over her head. After securing both wrists in one hand, he lowered the other one to her side and trailed one finger up from her hip to her armpit.

  She squirmed, laughing again. “Hey…”

  “That’s it. I really, really like that sound. From now on I want to hear it every day or you’re going to find yourself pinned down while I tickle you.”

  She smiled broadly at the excitement in his expression, but a flush crept up her face at the same time. “Mmm.”

  “What?” He lifted a brow.

  “I’m not sure which path I’ll choose.”

  He smirked. “You like being tickled?”

  She shook her head. “No. But I think I like being pinned
down.” The flush spread, heating her face.

  One second she was biting her lip, shocked by her innuendo. The next second Tushar’s mouth was on hers, his lips hard and demanding. She parted for him, loving the feel of his kiss and the way her entire body responded to his touch. When she gave a tug on her hands and came up short, unable to break free, a moan escaped her mouth.

  Oh. My. God. Where had this side of Tushar been hiding all these years? She wiggled, conscious of the wetness in her panties and the way her nipples pressed against her bra.

  When his hand flattened on her belly and smoothed up to cup her breast, she arched into his chest. He didn’t break the kiss as he molded his fingers to her sensitive skin and then pinched her nipple through the layers.

  Finally, just when she thought she might combust, he parted from her mouth and rose above her. His hands went to the hem of her sweater to tug it over her head. His gaze never left hers except for the second the material blocked their view.

  His chest rose and fell with every deep breath. “I love the sound of your laughter, but I’m even more interested in the way you moan when you’re aroused.”

  More heat infused her cheeks. Why was she so easily embarrassed with her own husband of over twenty years?

  She knew the answer to that question. It had been a long time since they really took the time to enjoy one another. They’d had sex from time to time when it seemed obligatory because weeks had gone by, but she couldn’t remember if there was ever a time when they played like this.

  She watched her husband intently as he removed the rest of her clothes and then his own. Soon he was hovering over her again, his erection bobbing against her belly. He threaded their fingers together and planted their hands at the sides of her head. “You’re sexier than the day we met.”

  She smiled. “You are too. I’m sorry we didn’t nurture this side of us. Let’s make a vow to never let that happen again.”

  He nodded. “Promise.”