Killer Assignment

by Black, Maggie K.

  “No.”

  His hand brushed over her shoulder as he turned her toward one particular cove. She concentrated on the opposite shoreline of trees like a puzzle she wasn’t about to admit she couldn’t solve. Then she saw it—a pattern of green and brown that didn’t quite match the trees around it and the faint haze in the air of campfire smoke. “Yeah, I can see it.”

  “Do you think you can swim to it?”

  “Absolutely.” At least her punishing schedule at work hadn’t stopped from her going on nightly runs to burn off stress. She didn’t know how she’d handle it if she actually had to rely on him to drag her across the lake.

  Mark pulled his shoes and socks off and then rolled up the legs of his jeans over his knees. His calves were as strong and lean as a marathon runner’s. “If you give me your shoes, I’ll carry them with mine.”

  Then he pulled his T-shirt off over his head, and her eyes unconsciously slipped to the breadth of his shoulders, the muscle of his arms and the wild, untamed strength of his chest. Forget fearing men like her stepfather and brother-in-law. A man like this could fell them in a single blow.

  He dropped their shoes, socks and Katie’s damaged cell phone into his T-shirt. He tied the ends together like a pack. Then he pulled a black bandanna from his jean pocket, rolled it tightly into a thin roll and tied it to the bundle. Laying the pack across his back, he tied the bandanna across his chest diagonally, looping it over one shoulder and under the other arm. Keeping his hands free for swimming.

  Katie stared at the bright green-and-yellow pattern crossing the very center of his chest. It was the same as the one Billy had been wearing.

  She stepped back. “Where did you get that?”

  “What?” He followed her gaze. “Oh, this? I ripped it off that kid’s neck just before the van crashed. I thought it might give us some clue to who they were or what they were after.”

  Her heart started beating again. Of course. If she’d been thinking straight, she probably would’ve grabbed it herself. She followed him down to the water’s edge and, when he paused to let her go ahead, dove in.

  Cold water struck her skin like the flat edge of a knife blade. She gritted her teeth, plunged beneath the surface and swam a few strokes before coming up for air.

  The reason Mark had the bandanna made sense. Of course, if her phone still worked she could’ve sent a picture of the logo back to Chad at Impact News and have him research it for her. If she’d had her computer, she could’ve researched it herself.

  That’s when it hit her—she didn’t even have her wallet anymore. Her identification, her belongings, her way of communicating with the outside world—they’d all been stripped away from her.

  There was a splash. Then Mark was beside her, swimming steadily, matching her stroke for stroke.

  She’d never been so helpless. She’d never felt so safe.

  NINE

  A stocky man was waiting for them when they scrambled to shore. There was a hint of gray at the edge of his cropped hair. The smile on his face was genuine, but Katie could see a definite concern reflected in his eyes. “I thought I wasn’t seeing you until Monday.”

  Mark crawled up onto the beach and sat down, gasping for breath.

  “There...was...” He gulped hard. “Man, we’re in trouble.”

  Her bare feet brushed against the ground. Zack waded in toward her, his face still trained on Mark.

  “What kind of trouble? Is this related to your—” But the words froze in Zack’s mouth, as Mark waved a hand to silence him.

  “Your...wha—” she started. She gasped in a painful breath as her voice failed her. She watched in helpless frustration as the two men exchanged looks.

  What wasn’t Mark telling her?

  Reaching her, Zack scanned her face. “I’m Zack. May I help you ashore?” She nodded weakly. He slipped an arm under her shoulder and walked her to land. “Are you hurt?”

  Again, the question was directed at her. She would have laughed if she’d had the strength. Her whole body was scraped and bruised, shivering from the cold water and aching from fatigue. But he’d already know that.

  Again, she shook her head. Zack glanced to Mark. “You?”

  Mark also shook his head. “We’re...kind of...battered. But nothing strained...or broken.”

  Zack led her to a camp chair in front of a fire, helped her sit and then dropped a blanket around her shoulders. He rustled around in a cooler for a moment, coming up with an energy drink and granola bar, which he pressed into her hands. “Eat and drink slowly. Tiny bites.”

  Mark stumbled up to the fire. “Thanks. Someone has been...pursuing us.” He gasped. “I don’t know...who they are.”

  Zack passed him a blanket. “Rest. Eat. Then tell me.”

  Mark pulled his arm out from the bandanna. He tossed it to Zack, who carefully untied it from the makeshift T-shirt bundle holding the shoes and phone.

  Zack held the bandanna up and ran his eyes over the logo. “What is this?”

  “One of the kidnappers was wearing it.” Mark sat on a rock. “Seen it before?”

  Zack’s frown deepened. “No. It doesn’t look like any terrorist or organized crime group I’ve ever seen.”

  “May I?” Katie took it, turned it upside down and stretched it out on her lap, her eyes tracing over the swath of green, punctuated by spikes of yellow. Her heart sank. “This is the logo of the Langtry Glen Residents Association. I thought it was vaguely familiar before, but I didn’t recognize it until it was rolled flat.” She took a deep breath and was glad to find her voice had returned. She looked through the campfire at Mark. Then she turned to Zack.

  “I’m a newspaper reporter for Impact News,” she said. “I came up here to cover a party held by the same real-estate developer who destroyed their community. They had these made up when they heard they’d lost the fight to keep their buildings and handed them out to supporters who’d come to watch their buildings get demolished. People cried when the detonations went off.” She turned to Mark. “I don’t understand. A few people posted some angry comments on our website, accusing me of having forgotten Langtry Glen. But that’s worlds away from actually sending someone up here to kidnap me.”

  “You said that a drug dealer had been using the community as a base,” Mark said. “Is it possible that someone from that community had explosives training?”

  “You’re kidding, right? I was referring to the regular dynamiting the developer did. The buildings were demolished in seconds. But Langtry Glen itself was just a normal apartment complex—full of good, decent people who had fallen on hard times. It’s far more likely that someone is setting them up.”

  But the grim look on Mark’s face told her he was anything but joking. He turned to Zack. “Someone wearing this bandanna ambushed us at the side of the road. It was the second serious attempt they’d made to kidnap Katie, and this time they got all of my equipment, including the radio transmitter.”

  Zack sucked in a harsh breath. A sudden burst of guilt filled her heart. She’d been so busy focusing on their escape she hadn’t even realized he’d left his equipment behind.

  Mark turned to Katie. “The reason I asked about explosives is that I left the unit unlocked. Anyone can just open it up and use it.”

  “But it’s just a radio studio and transmitter.”

  “A transmitter is like any other tool. In the right hands, it can save a lot of lives, but in the wrong hands, it’s potentially deadly. In this case, radio transmitters can be used in bomb-making. Just like a cell phone, but without relying on an external carrier to relay the signal. All bombs have some form of detonation mechanism. When it comes to homemade explosives, that usually means either using some form of a countdown timer or, better still, a remote detonator that can send a signal to the bomb when you’re safely out of the
area.”

  She nodded. “Like how you can use a car door opener to set off an explosive?”

  “Exactly. It’s the transmitter itself that sends the signal, and normally long-range radio transmitters are hard to find. Let alone portable ones. So for your average terrorist group it wouldn’t be worth the trouble of figuring out how to build one. But a fully integrated, long-range radio transmitter with timing capability...” He groaned. “I know it’s a longshot. But when you mentioned building demolition, it reminded me of how much damage my transmitter could do in the wrong hands.”

  “Although,” Zack said, “we have no reason to believe that it will be.”

  “But I also had no reason to believe someone would try to kidnap me,” Katie said.

  Zack’s forehead wrinkled. “You’re sure it’s you they’re after?”

  “Absolutely. One of them followed me up from Toronto. The other was waiting for me at Cobalt train station. Fortunately, Mark happened to be there.” She swallowed hard.

  “I’d offered to give her a ride to her hotel,” Mark added. “They attacked us on the road. They had weapons and managed to get us into the back of their van.” Zack’s face paled. “We jumped out when they cut through the nature preserve. I decided the safest course of action was coming to you. For all we knew they’d be patrolling the roads.”

  “And we now think this is somehow tied back to the destruction of some low-income housing?” Zack directed the question at Katie.

  “Langtry Glen was acquired and then destroyed by Shields Corp,” Mark said. “Jonah Shields is holding a weekend gala of sorts tomorrow. Must be big if he’s inviting the press all the way up from Toronto.”

  There was an edge to his voice that she couldn’t quite place. The two men were staring at each other right in the eyes, like two old-fashioned gunslingers waiting to see who would flinch first.

  What didn’t she know?

  She pushed the blanket down onto her lap, shook her wet hair out around her shoulders and fixed her eyes on Mark.

  “There’s something you’re not telling me,” she said softly but firmly.

  He didn’t flinch. “It’s nothing you need to know right now.”

  It was the tone of a man used to taking charge. Just like the tone she’d heard both her stepfather and brother-in-law use before. For him to take charge when she was running for her life was one thing. But to control what she was allowed to know? He wasn’t looking at her.

  “I’m trusting you.”

  “And I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

  “Well, I’d feel a whole lot safer knowing that we’re being totally hon—” But the word froze on her tongue as his eyes looked up into hers, and she saw the intensity of emotion echoed there. This wasn’t the look of a man who was trying to dismiss her. If anything, he looked even more worried than she was.

  Mark stood up and walked around the campfire. His eyes trained firmly on her face. Zack quietly slipped into the tent.

  Mark crouched down in the sand beside her. His placed his hand on the arm of her chair, inches away from hers. “I read some of your newspaper articles online this morning.” She frowned. His fingers brushed against her arm. “No, I mean the good ones. The older ones you published before Ethan took over as editor. Took some digging, but I was able to find a few archived. You’re really very good.”

  A slight flush rose to her cheeks as a gentle warmth spread through her chest. But almost instantly she brushed the feeling aside. She was pleased he liked her work, maybe even a little more pleased than she’d expected to be. But she didn’t need his approval. She needed the truth.

  “You write with both brains and heart.” He paused and forced his hand through his hair like he was trying to find the right words. “Like you don’t just care about facts but also about people. Haven’t you ever found yourself holding something back when you write a story? Not lying, just omitting a few details because they were irrelevant and could hurt someone? Or even not asking someone a question because you knew the line of questioning was needlessly painful or uncomfortable?”

  Of course she had. Especially in cases of sexual assault, child abuse or the death of a loved one. True, other journalists might be willing to reduce someone to tears for a story. But something inside her—her faith, she hoped—had always made her conscious of respecting the person she was interviewing.

  She nodded. “Yes. But the people I interview also know they can trust me with the truth.”

  Mark looked away.

  “Hey, you’ll never guess what I’ve got.” Zack was standing in the doorway of the tent with a battered rucksack in his hand. He tossed it to Mark.

  “You found it.” Mark stood. “I left this bag somewhere when I was in Kandahar last month. Zack here said he’d find it for me.” He pulled out a pair of simple khakis and a faded blue T-shirt and held them out toward her. “I’m sorry these will be a bit big. But at least they’re clean.”

  “Thank you.” While a skirt and jacket had seemed the perfect mix of professional and casual when she’s gotten up this morning, now they were tattered, soaked and streaked with mud. She ran her eyes out over the wide expanse of lake and the thick trees surrounding them. Zack had to have gotten here somehow. “What’s our next move? I’m guessing you don’t have a phone?”

  Zack shook his head. “No, sorry. I’m totally unplugged. No phone. No internet. Nada.”

  She stood. “How far to the closest police station? Are we walking, or do you have a vehicle we can borrow?”

  Zack’s brows raised slightly. Again his eyes flickered over to Mark. Questioning. Mark shrugged.

  “I have a motorcycle, which you’re welcome to borrow. I was planning on picking Mark up on it, so I’ve already got a second seat on and two helmets. Timmins is about an hour on bike from here. I left a first aid kit out on my sleeping bag. There’s fresh water in there, too. How about you get yourselves turned around and I’ll sort out some lunch before you go?”

  Yeah, as much as she was in a hurry to go, he was probably right.

  “Thanks.” She slipped into the cool darkness of the tent, letting the thick canvas close behind her. She dropped onto Zack’s rollout cot and let her head fall between her knees again.

  Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Come on, Katie. Don’t fall apart now.

  For a moment, she tried to remember the words of the psalm Celia had given her. But as the words slipped across her mind, she found her own frustration seeping through.

  Dear God, if you really know what’s going on here, can you let me know? Please. Because the more I’m doubting whether I should be trusting Mark, the harder I’m finding to trust that this is all going to turn out okay.

  The soft cotton fabric smelled like Mark. Warm, comforting, strong, wild. She closed her eyes, remembering the feel of his fingers against hers as he’d helped her cut her wrists free. She blinked hard and tossed the clothes on the cot.

  Come on, Katie. Get a grip. She didn’t need a man who could keep her safe. She needed someone she could be sure would never be able to hurt her. Mark was nothing like what she thought she wanted. Yet somehow he’d been capable of stepping in to be everything she’d needed him to be. She pressed her fingers into her temples.

  Trust your instincts, Katie. Always trust your instincts.

  But which ones? Her old, reliable ones, which told her to always ask questions and dig deeper—the ones who were always safest knowing the whole story? Or these new, scarier ones, which just wanted to send her falling into the safety of his arms?

  * * *

  Zack poked the fire with a stick, turning over the coals until the flame flickered brighter. “Wow, she’s something else.” His voice was so low it was almost a whisper. Mark guessed, tailored to be loud enough he could hear without risking them being overheard. “I take it she’s also roma
ntically unattached?”

  “Don’t even go there.” Mark scowled and dropped down in the camp chair she’d just vacated. Yes, Katie was incredible. Not just beautiful as a woman but impressive as a human being. It was hardly surprising his friend had noticed. So why was he so annoyed by it? “Katie deserves far better than some unavailable man who goes jetting around the world at a moment’s notice.”

  “I’m not scheduled to deploy for another nine weeks....”

  Mark’s eyes shot toward the sky in irritation.

  Zack chuckled quietly. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ve recently struck up a very promising friendship with someone back at base. But it’s nice to see you so interested in someone for once.”

  “I’m not interested. I’m protective. She needs me. I’m just getting her where she needs to be.” That was all it was. That was all it could be.

  Zack leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Which happens to be your family? Although I’m taking it by all the dirty looks and hushing earlier she doesn’t know they’re your family.”

  This was exactly why he hadn’t wanted to tell Zack about meeting with his father—not that he expected to be making that meeting now. It had been over ten years since he’d stepped down from being Mark’s bodyguard, but sometimes that old dynamic didn’t feel that far under the surface. “It’s safer that she doesn’t know—”

  “For her or for you?”

  “For us both!” His voice echoed loud in the quiet. He caught himself and lowered it again. “People are trying to kidnap her. Probably for reasons related to my family. If they find out she’s with me, that might double the danger she’s in. Even her knowing could put her life in greater danger—”

  “Why?”

  “What if she flips out and runs away? What if she won’t let me protect her?”

  “You mean what if she rejects you?”

  Mark shoved his palms onto his knees and stood up quickly, sending the camp chair flying. “I can’t have this conversation right now. Not while Katie’s in danger.”