Silver Storm: Timewalker Chronicles, Book 2

by Michele Callahan

  A large white screen appeared with a small rectangular box and colored letters. “Google?” Sarah turned to study the screen. “What is Google? Is that what T.V. is called now?”

  “No.” Tim grabbed a flat, black, shiny item and pushed another button. She moved closer. It looked like a tiny T.V. screen you could hold in your hands.

  “What is that?”

  “It’s a tablet. An iPad.”

  “What does it do?”

  “It’s like a computer, only a lot smaller than the ones you probably remember.”

  Sarah narrowed her eyes as his fingers flew over the tablet and her name appeared in the box on the television. Then the T.V. screen changed and there were lists of things about her. Even some photos, career statistics, and several headlines about her disappearance.

  “Newspapers are on television now?”

  “Sort of. The internet is hard to explain.”

  For the first time since she’d arrived her chest squeezed and the cold hand of doubt settled along her spine. Just a few years, but everything was different. Tim continued to flick fingers on the tablet and articles flashed on the screen, changing faster than she could read them. Photos of her, sun kissed and smiling with her fellow WPVA players and her old teammates from Pepperdine. Tim didn’t give her time to read much, or reminisce about her old friends. She read headlines, scanned a sentence or two as quickly as she could manage. Then a photo of her grandmother appeared on the screen.

  “Stop!”

  Tim froze and she closed the distance until she stood inches from the giant photo of her beloved Granny T. It was an obituary. The old woman had apparently caused quite a stir, refusing to believe her granddaughter was dead and leaving everything she had in trust to a girl who’d been missing for over fifteen years. “She’s gone.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Sarah shook her head and refused to succumb to the burning behind her eyelids. Fingers shaking, she reached out to touch the smooth surface displaying the photo. “She’s been gone for over ten years.”

  Energy crackled through her arm before a loud fizzing sound erupted from the black T.V. followed by a pop. The screen went black.

  “I’m sorry.” Tim pushed a few more buttons, then whispered under his breath. “And I think you just blew out my T.V., lightning girl.”

  “Twenty-seven years.” Gone. She leaned her forehead against the black screen in front of her, closing her eyes against the pain. If anyone had asked her a few minutes ago, she would have sworn she’d only spent a few hours in that odd laboratory with the Archiver Bran, Celestina, and the terrifying visions of Chicago vanishing that had nearly driven her mad. Her friends would be old women now, grandmothers. Grandma Tilly was long gone, too. And the one thing she’d been so proud of, so sure would succeed, the Women’s Professional Volleyball Association, had gone bankrupt after only a few years. “I don’t think I like your Google.”

  Tim approached from behind her. From the corner of her eye she could see a pair of black sweatpants, a green-and-white T-shirt with military insignia on it and a pair of rather large flip-flops in one of his hands. “Here. My mom was only five-two, so none of her stuff will fit you. I had to get out some of my old high school stuff. Get dressed and then we’ll figure it all out.”

  Sarah turned, but she didn’t reach for the clothes. Instead, she walked straight into his chest, leaned her head against his shoulder, and prayed she wouldn’t have to beg for the hug she desperately needed. The Archiver told her this man would help her, protect her, and fight at her side when the time came to battle the black blanket of doom. Celestina, the Seer, swore to her that she could trust the man, no matter how rugged or gruff he seemed. The knowledge Celestina had shared with her about this man didn’t jive with the scarred, hard-ass standing in front of her. He looked more like a biker than the boy-next-door type she was used to. With his money, scientific background and nerdy math brain, she’d figured he’d look like a skinny, calculator-toting geek in designer clothing, not a hulking gladiator in combat boots, blue jeans and a T-shirt. Hugging hadn’t specifically been listed in his job description, but Tim didn’t know that and she wasn’t about to enlighten him as his thickly muscled arms finally wrapped around her bare shoulders and snugged her in close to his large body.

  She relaxed against him. Celestina had pulled her from the center of a lightning strike, altered her DNA, and sent her through time. Surely, the tiny blonde woman knew what she was talking about with Tim. The Seer promised her that Tim could be trusted. Promised her. Inhaling his rugged scent, she jumped right off the cliff.

  “Look, Tim. I didn’t arrive here by accident. Celestina told me all about you. I know you’re military, an only child, and both of your parents are dead. I know that you’ve got money. I know you’re were a pilot in the Army and that you worked on experimental weapons as a government contractor when your time was up. I know you sabotaged your work. You think that you quit, but the government is still watching you.”

  Tim’s shoulders got stiffer with every word she spoke but heat poured into her from the Mark on her neck, driving her to blissful distraction. She gave in, closed her eyes and enjoyed holding him while it lasted. He was suspicious as hell.

  “Where did you get all of this stellar information?”

  “The Seer, Celestina. She said some guy named Walter wants to recruit you into the Casper Project.” She sighed and held on tighter, her thin arms like steel wires around his waist, her body pressed to his like melted wax, and her face buried in his shoulder where he couldn’t look her in the eyes. “She said to warn you that that’s a bad idea. That you should avoid him. He’s got it all wrong.”

  “Walter?”

  “Yep.”

  “This Seer called him Walter?”

  “Yes. Who is he?” Now he sounded angry. Whoever this Walter character was, Tim didn’t like him. Too bad. There was nothing she could do about it, just pass along Celestina’s message. She was terrified, and tired. And her whole body felt like a live wire about to explode into a rain of sparks. It hurt like hell. Touching him made it bearable, but she didn’t want to admit that. “I’m tired. I’m hungry. And it’s a long story. I’d really rather not tell it twice. Please? They said I could trust you, that you’d protect me with your life and help me. Please. I promise I’ll answer every question I can when we get there.”

  “Get where?”

  “I need you to take me to Luke Lawson. He lives on Valley Court in Bannockburn. He’s the scientist I told you about. I need him. And we have to go today.”

  <><><>

  I need him. Sarah’s hot breath pushed the words through the soft cotton of his T-shirt and his arms tensed. He didn’t like hearing her claim to need another man. It was insane. It was stupid. It was gut fucking instinct. And like it or not, he was going to help her any way he could so he could continue to look himself in the mirror each morning in the completely improbably event that she was telling him the truth, and so he could take care of things if she weren’t. For now, his best option was to play along.

  Walter? The mysterious Celestina called the Rear Admiral by his first name? Named his Top Secret project team, and its highest-ranking officer, by name? What kind of game was this woman playing? She said she was tired. Hungry. Needed his help. Two could play this game.

  “All right. Let’s eat breakfast, and then I’ll drive you wherever you need to go.” And he’d interrogate the living hell out of anyone he found there.

  “Okay.” She shuddered in his arms and nodded into his neck. Inexplicably, she moved her arms from his waist farther up his back and squeezed, one hand cradling the back of his head. It was personal, a lover’s touch, a subconscious claim on his body. Damned if he didn’t allow it. Hell, he never wanted her to let go.

  This was all kinds of fucked up.

  He’d had his fun over the years, back when he was young, stupid and pretty. Back then he’d been the rich Senator’s only heir and the girls had been relentless. Every o
ne of them wanted to marry a wealthy, West Point graduate. But they’d all been too much for him to take. Too much like his mother with their Prada shoes and calculating smiles.

  Sarah was scared, and there was no hint of insincerity in her eyes or her touch. Unable to resist the sweet seduction of her bare shoulders another minute, he lifted his palm to her back and brushed his fingers beneath her hair and along her spine in what he hoped were soothing strokes. The wet heat of tears soaked his neck and the collar of his shirt for several minutes before she whispered a reply.

  “Thank you.”

  She pulled out of his arms and he would’ve sworn the temperature in the room plummeted fifteen degrees. Suddenly, he didn’t know where to put his hands so he pointed back to the small bathroom. “I’ll make breakfast. Shower’s through there. You might want to use it. You smell like lake moss and dead fish.”

  She grinned through the tears on her cheeks, wiped them away with the back of one hand and grabbed the clothing he’d brought down for her. “Could be worse, I guess.”

  “Could be.” Lie. Lie. Lie. She smelled like heaven on Earth and the caveman inside him wanted to drag her into his bedroom, tug the blanket out of her hands, and spend the whole day exploring every inch of her delectable body. But she wanted to go see another man, a scientist in Bannockburn. He’d rather lock her in his bedroom and ravage her until all thought fled from her lightning-quick mind, but he’d have to be dead before he’d admit it aloud. He wasn’t that stupid.

  She closed the bathroom door behind her and the spell was broken. He shifted the uncomfortable bulge in his pants around and frowned. He must be going crazy. He’d known the woman for all of a half hour! And Bannockburn?

  Whatever. He’d make eggs, then drive her to see her precious scientist. He needed to know all about Luke Lawson, make sure the man wasn’t a threat. After that? Assuming she was telling him the truth, she wouldn’t be his responsibility anymore, would she?

  Bandit growled at him from her cozy bed next to the unlit fireplace, then yapped out two short barks that sounded suspiciously like, “Yeah, right.”

  “Shut up, dog.” He growled at Bandit, who rolled over for a belly rub in response. Spoiled little rat. He leaned down to oblige the little rodent, but the moment didn’t last long.

  The soft click of the bathroom door’s latch preceded a soft, sharp whistle. Bandit’s ears popped up and she jumped out of her bed. Her tail wagged so fiercely it looked like the little puff-ball was going to fall over laughing at him as she sauntered toward the bathroom to join her new best friend in the shower. Hot water. Soap. Lots and lots of bare skin.

  The door closed once again behind the little traitor and he heard Sarah’s soft laughter. Now he was jealous of a ten-pound fur-ball that smelled like dead fish.

  Tim started cooking and let his mind work on the problem at hand. It was either that or stare at the bathroom door like a lust-filled fifteen-year-old boy. By Sarah’s account he had a time-traveler to deliver to a man in Bannockburn. But he knew it was more than that. Much more.

  He’d missed something. Why did he want to believe her? He hadn’t seen any plastic surgery scars. Her face was an exact match to a twenty-seven-year-old magazine cover. And she’d appeared out of thin air with a lightning strike for accompaniment.

  None of this added up. Time travel was theoretical at best, and even then, only into the future, never the past. It didn’t matter what current theory you subscribed to, once you changed the past you never found your way back to where you started. You could end up in a parallel universe, or an alternate timeline. The possibilities were, literally, infinite.

  Time travel was out. He just couldn’t believe it. Which meant someone had gone to a hell of a lot of trouble to create a backstory for her, maybe even make her believe it.

  And why? There were others who could continue his research. He’d dealt them a hell of a blow, slowed them down for a few years, but he wasn’t egotistical enough to assume he was the only capable mathematical brain on the planet. So why bother with this elaborate ruse? Why bother with him at all?

  Unless it was the Rear Admiral and his fucking Casper Project. The CP was bad news and they’d been following him for weeks before he destroyed his lab.

  Maybe someone had continued his research, maybe not. Maybe they wanted him to step back in and play for a completely different reason. He’d do whatever he had to do to stop them from using him to develop those weapons, or learning his secret, even play along with the gorgeous liar in his bathroom until she led him back to the enemy’s lair.

  The thought made his heart hurt, but he dismissed the emotion with years of hard-won practice. She was good, he’d give her that. But he’d learned long ago not to trust that traitorous organ. Logic said her story didn’t make sense. Logic kept him alive.

  Chapter Three

  Tuesday, 11:00 a.m.

  Tim kept his eyes on the highway, safely averted from the woman to his right. Bandit lay curled up in her lap, still shivering from her bath, but smelling much better. Sarah absently stroked the soft hair on the top of Bandit’s head and stared straight ahead. She looked like a lost doll with eyes too big for her face. She’d supposedly been gone, absent, missing for over twenty years and she didn’t crane her neck in curiosity once? It was almost like she was afraid to look outside.

  “We should be there in about thirty minutes.”

  “That’s fine.” Sarah closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the headrest. “Luke probably won’t be home yet, anyway. Hopefully, Alexa will be there. Maybe she can help us.”

  “Alexa. The other time traveler?” He checked the mirrors again, the sky. No one was following him, or if they were, they were very, very good.

  “Yes.”

  Jesus, this woman was crazy. If she hadn’t mentioned the Casper Project and the destruction of his lab, he would have written her off as a loon. But she had. She knew things she shouldn’t. He had to stick around long enough to figure out why.

  “And why won’t Luke be at home, eagerly anticipating your arrival?”

  “He’s probably at work.”

  “Where does he work?” Tim waited with bated breath for her answer. This would be another piece of the puzzle, assuming she knew the answer. She didn’t.

  “He used to work in a lab, in Texas. I don’t know what he does now…” Her voice trailed off for a few seconds before she continued. “I wonder what Alexa’s mission was. I wonder if Luke thought she was lying, too.”

  Tim didn’t have an answer for that, so he kept his mouth shut and focused on watching the roads, the sky and the rooftops along the way. No sense asking more questions she wouldn’t answer.

  Sarah gasped and his truck’s radio lost the signal, blared static for a couple seconds, then popped. No doubt, little miss sunshine had blown a fuse in his poor vehicle. He could feel the buzzing power ramping up again along his skin, just like when she’d blown up his T.V.

  Bandit whimpered and burrowed her little head under Sarah’s arm.

  That was the one thing that made him question his conclusions. How the hell was she doing that? How was it possible for her to be producing so much energy that he could literally feel it crawling all over his skin like ants?

  A half hour later, Tim squeezed the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. He’d asked for answers at breakfast, but all she’d told him was that it was complicated and she didn’t want to have to explain it twice. She’d either claimed she didn’t know the answers, or asked him to wait until they reached this scientist’s house to explain the entire drive.

  He’d tried to be patient, he really had. But the soldier in him was used to recon and planning, not trusting a doe-eyed female to tell him what to do and where to go. Especially a woman he didn’t trust. And if his suspicions were correct, a lot of lives were at stake. All his fault. It made his stomach curl and head ache.

  He forced his fingers to loosen their death grip. Thirty minutes of silence was all he could t
ake. He’d thought Sarah would crack, ramble on like a typical female, like his mother would have with her incessant chatter. But no. He had to meet the only woman on the planet who talked less than he did. Which meant, if he wanted answers, he was going to have to drag them out of her.

  Sure, she’d asked him to wait. Apparently, Sarah only wanted to share her secrets with someone else. Luke. The scientist who had more than likely stolen his work. Tim was ready to strangle the jerk and he hadn’t even met him. They were less than three blocks from the bastard’s high-dollar house and he couldn’t stop himself from casing the neighborhood. The guy had money, used to work in a lab, and had a questionable history.

  Maybe Luke was already neck deep in the Casper Project. Maybe the rumors and conspiracy theorists were right, and Tesla had invented time travel back in the 40s. Maybe they already had negative matter by the tons stored up somewhere and his entire career had been a joke. Maybe Sarah really was a time traveler.

  Yeah. And maybe Santa Claus would leave a little white pony under the tree this year.

  Gun loaded. Check. Knife. Check. She claimed she had no idea where they were going. If he spent some extra time doing recon and making sure Google Maps had their shit together with this neighborhood, she’d never know the difference. He’d map the exits before he walked into this irresistible trap.

  Then he’d be able to breathe.

  Even if every other breath crippled him because his traitorous nose did nothing but zero in on the smell of her sweet skin beneath his glycerin soap. The recon might take a bit longer than usual, since he was obviously operating with half a brain, and had been since pulling her out of the water. Losing brain cells over a woman’s scent wasn’t something he’d ever experienced before. He couldn’t imagine the effect being any worse on his thinking skills if he were mainlining heroin.

  He wanted her. And he didn’t want anything from anyone. Ever. People were nothing but trouble. Show them vulnerability, emotion, or love, and what did it usually lead to? Alone time and a lecture from his father. A vacant smile and absent pat on the head from his mother. And a laundry list of demands from everyone else. The guys from his old unit were the only ones he trusted, and most of them were still half a world away, boots on the ground.