by Sarah Wynde
Lucas didn’t sign the paychecks. And he didn’t give the orders.
She did.
9
Noah
Noah raised his binoculars back to his eyes. Grace Latimer had just arrived at the office, but she was already leaving.
She had a kayak on the roof of her car. Maybe she was going kayaking. It was a perfect day for it — clear, sunny, not too hot, not too cold. The only sound would be the rustling of the trees in the wind and the raucous cries of birds, with an occasional splash as the paddle cut smoothly through the depths and the kayak glided along the surface of the water.
But no, she wasn’t dressed for kayaking. She was wearing those spiky heeled shoes that looked so uncomfortable and so hot at the same time, with a form-fitting skirt that barely grazed the top of her knees and a scoop-necked sleeveless top. His fingers itched to graze the edge, to give it the tug that would slide it just a little lower.
“I am so bored.” It was the crying girl’s voice. Noah’s jaw clenched. Complaining was better than crying, but not by much.
“It could be much worse.”
“Yeah, you should try the desert. Sand, sand, and more sand.”
“There is nothing wrong with sand. And our skies are beautiful. So big, so open.”
“Sand. So difficult to clean. It gets everywhere.”
“I was thinking vampires. It’s a beautiful day. Isn’t it nice to be out in the sunlight, Sophia?”
The crying girl began to cry. Noah wanted to swear but he bit back the words, the muscles in his jaw so tense that pain jolted up his cheek into his head. He let the binoculars drop.
“I’ll never feel sunshine again,” the crying girl’s voice said between sobs. “Never. I hate the sun. I hate it.”
“Ah, shit,” Joe said with a sigh.
“Come on, Sophia, let’s find a squirrel.” That was the little boy’s voice. “They’re so weird, with their fluffy tails. Maybe we can find a nest with babies. I want to see a baby squirrel.”
“I hate squirrels,” the girl’s voice wailed, but it was growing fainter.
Noah closed his eyes. The other voices were talking over one another again, the words confusing, chaotic. The fake Chinese was loudest, the voice lilting incomprehensibly, so close it sounded next to his ear. He wanted to bash his head against the trunk of the nearest tree. Maybe he could pound the voices out of it.
“I didn’t mean to do that,” the Rose voice said. “She’s very sensitive, isn’t she?”
“That’s one word for it,” Joe grumbled.
Noah wanted to suggest a few others. Pain in the ass worked for him. He also wanted to roll his eyes and demand to know what they were talking about. Vampires?
Instead, he set the binoculars down next to his backpack and rubbed his hands against his knees, feeling the denim of his jeans against his palms.
Reality.
This was reality. The light warmth of the sun falling through the tree leaves above him, the hint of a breeze carrying scents of decaying leaves and fresh growth toward him, they were real.
The voices were not.
Maybe they were insanity, maybe they were something else, but either way, listening to them, trying to understand them, was a dead-end street. He needed to ignore them.
He stood, stretching out the kinks in his neck, trying to relax his jaw, and paced forward. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing. Putting General Directions under surveillance had seemed like a decent idea. He’d watch the company, track deliveries, observe the employees and see what he could learn. He still had a few contacts in DC. With license plates and photographs, he ought to be able to discover some names. Names could lead him to educational backgrounds and areas of interest, information that might provide clues to the research being conducted inside General Directions’ closed doors.
Solo surveillance sucked, though. The crying girl wasn’t wrong — watching cars drive in and out of a parking lot was insanely boring. Plus, he had no way of knowing what was important or what he might be missing. What if the key deliveries arrived at midnight? He didn’t have the gear to spend the night in the woods.
And the lines of sight were horrible. The ground was flatter than flat, so he couldn’t hide himself on a hillside and watch from above. Instead, he was barely outside the fences, peering through undergrowth with a limited range of view. At least the brush was dense enough to give him some cover.
A short distance away, the landscape was almost bleak, with tall, skinny, gray-trunked pine trees, as widely spaced as if they’d been planted, growing on sandy dirt coated with dry brown pine needles. But the closer he got to General Directions, the lusher the forest became. The area around the buildings was green and gorgeous, with palm trees and ferns fighting for space and elegant oaks draped with Spanish moss arching into the sky.
There was motion in the parking lot. A dark green sedan was pulling in. Noah moved closer, brushing the sharp leaves of a palmetto out of his way with one arm, grateful for his jacket’s protection despite the warmth of the day.
He leaned against an oak tree, watching as the man who’d spoken to him the other morning stepped out of the car. He shot a glance in Noah’s direction and Noah stilled. He should be reasonably camouflaged in the trees, but he wasn’t making much effort to hide. But the man smiled, his expression neither suspicious nor wary, so Noah relaxed. The guy must have seen one of the blue jays that fluttered through the forest or maybe a woodpecker with its bright red head.
“Uh-oh, dude, you are so busted.” Joe sounded so close to his ear and his voice was so filled with laughter that Noah flinched.
“She looks kind of pissed. She doesn’t get mad much.” The Dillon voice sounded thoughtful.
Noah couldn’t help himself. Even though he knew better than to respond to his hallucinations, he looked in the direction of the voices.
Damn.
Grace Latimer was marching toward him, hair disheveled as if it had gotten caught in some hanging branch, lips compressed in a tight line. She looked entirely out of place. With every step, the heels on her shoes sank into the soft ground.
Noah wanted to disappear into the trees, fade away like the professional soldier he used to be, but it was obviously too late for that. He didn’t know how she’d spotted him, but he didn’t imagine that she was out walking in the woods for the scenic view. He lifted his chin and straightened his shoulders, not speaking as she strode in his direction.
She stopped about ten feet away. Her cheeks were dotted with color, and from this close, he could see sweat beading at her temples.
“Fancy running into you here,” Grace said. Her smile didn’t reach her snapping eyes.
Noah felt a real smile tugging at his lips. “Nice day for a walk.”
She glanced down at her feet. Her shoes were a deep pink color with overlapping straps, three-inch stiletto heels, and open toes. They matched her outfit, or they had before she’d stepped in mud. Now they were smeared with dirt, sticky with plant debris. “Oh, yeah, fabulous.”
Noah didn’t laugh, even though he wanted to. “Am I trespassing?” he asked, keeping it casual. He hadn’t expected to be seen, but he hadn’t made that much effort to hide either.
“You’re on public land.” The words were unfriendly.
He waited.
She took a deep breath, then exhaled. Her smile looked more genuine when she said, “Sorry.” She pushed her hair back, tucking it behind her ear. “I’m annoyed at my brother, not you.”
Noah lifted a brow.
She came closer, stopping next to him, and peered through the trees. “Not much of a view.”
He gave a noncommittal murmur.
“I’d be happy to give you a tour if you like.”
His eyes narrowed. She acted like they had nothing to hide. Was that pretense? “Tours usually only show the highlights.”
She glanced at him and then back at the parking lot, in a way that made it clear she knew exactly what he’d been doing. “And t
his is better, how?”
Noah scowled. So maybe he’d been thinking his surveillance was pointless, but she didn’t have to rub it in.
She put a hand on his arm and leaned closer to him. “Look, I understand…” But before she could finish her sentence, an alarm began ringing from the building, an urgent wheep-wheep-wheep blaring through the trees.
“Oh, that is ridiculous.” She glared in the direction of the building. “You haven’t done a thing.”
He’d like to, Noah thought. She was standing so close to him that he could smell her shampoo, or maybe it was her soap. Or maybe it was just her. She smelled like girl, like jasmine flowers and vanilla, mixed with something just a little spicy. His brain was ordering him to step away from her, to break the spell her scent created, but his body refused to listen.
She looked up at him and her eyes met his. Her lips parted as if she were about to say something, but the words didn’t escape. The sensation he’d felt before, of getting lost in her gaze, returned, deeper and more intense. He raised his hand to touch her cheek.
“Oh, they like each other,” the Rose voice said. “How sweet.”
Noah let his hand drop. What was he doing? He should move away. But he stayed motionless, frozen under her gaze.
Grace caught her lower lip between her teeth for one long moment, then she smiled and put a hand on his chest. “My big brother doesn’t get to tell me what to do.”
What did her brother have to do with anything? Noah frowned, puzzled, but Grace lifted her face to his, swaying in to him.
Maybe she intended a quick brush of her lips against his, the slightest taste of forbidden fruit, but she fit next to him perfectly. Noah could almost hear the satisfying click of a jigsaw puzzle piece finding its place. His unruly hand slid around her, coming to rest on the small of her back, as his lips deepened the kiss.
Her fingers on his chest closed, fisting into his t-shirt. He could feel their warmth through the cotton, but it didn’t match the heat of her mouth. All of his senses were caught up in her — taste, touch, scent — until the noise from his hallucinations finally penetrated his consciousness.
The clean freak was screaming. At least Noah thought that scream was her voice. Angry man’s rant had lost a word. He was saying, “It’s not… it’s not…” over and over again.
“Mama, mama, what is it?” the little boy’s voice was squealing with excitement.
The crying girl was no longer crying. “Holy shit, it’s big.” She sounded awed.
“Oh my goodness, it looks so soft. I wish I could pet it,” the Rose voice said.
“Noah, man, hate to interrupt, but now ain’t a good time for that.” Joe’s voice in Noah’s ear was matched by a cold chill against his back.
“Aunt Grace, stop kissing him! Why don’t you have your phone? Damn it, damn it.”
Noah lifted his head. Grace’s eyelashes fluttered open and she stared up at him. She looked as dazed as he felt. He wanted nothing more than to go back to kissing her, to take long, slow, sweet minutes exploring her mouth, but he turned his head in the direction of his hallucinations.
He sucked in a breath.
Holy shit.
Crying girl was right. It was huge.
Huge and black and furry, with ears that stuck up like a corgi, and a muzzle like a cocker spaniel, but with eyes tiny and beady like no dog he’d ever seen. It pawed at his backpack with one immense furry paw.
Bear.
For a second, Noah felt frozen, immobilized by the sheer size of the creature, but then he swung sideways, pushing Grace behind him.
“Hey,” she protested.
The bear lifted its head. Its eyes met Noah’s. It tilted back on its hind legs, not quite standing, but lifting its forepaws off the ground.
“What in the world do they think they’re doing?” Grace sounded mystified. Noah risked a quick glance over his shoulder. Uniformed guards were bursting out of the building, running toward the forest.
The bear rumbled. Even through the blaring siren and the cacophony of his hallucinations all talking at once, Noah could hear it, a deep, raspy sound like a chair scraping across a tiled floor.
Grace heard it, too. She gave a muffled “eep,” as if she were choking back a scream.
“Run,” Noah ordered, keeping his voice low. “Get away. Go.”
“No, no, no,” Grace said breathlessly. She pressed up close against him. He could feel her warmth, sense her face peering around his shoulder. “Never run from a bear. Don’t make eye contact. Are you making eye contact? Don’t make eye contact.”
Now she told him. It took a remarkable effort and Noah’s lips wanted to pull themselves into a snarl, but he let his eyes drop to the bear’s midsection.
“Yeah, so, that’s what I came out to tell you.” Grace’s words tumbled over one another. “Throwing apple cores. Bad idea. Against the law, actually, to leave food waste in the forest. Big fine if you get caught, but, well, bigger problem if you attract a hungry bear. Obviously.”
The last word came out on a squeak as the bear rose to a standing position.
“It’s February. Don’t bears hibernate?” Noah bit out the words through clenched teeth, a growl that wasn’t nearly as deep or as foreboding as that of the bear.
“It’s Florida. Not exactly freezing.”
Good point. The bear’s head swiveled, its nose lifting into the air, and then it dropped to the ground again and began backing away, dragging Noah’s backpack with it.
Noah swore and took a step in the bear’s direction.
Grace grabbed his arm. “Don’t be stupid.”
“It’s got my pack.”
“Do you have more food in there?”
“My lunch, yeah.”
“Then it’s not your pack anymore.”
The bear was disappearing into the trees, Noah’s backpack bumping along beside it.
Noah tried to tug free of Grace’s hold, but her fingers tightened on his upper arm.
“If you get close enough that the bear feels threatened, it’ll hurt you. And then my security team will have to shoot it. Are you really going to kill a bear over a sandwich?”
Noah stopped trying to pull away. An irrepressible grin stole across his face. “Nice priorities. Not worried how much damage it could do to me?”
“It’s the bear’s forest. We’re the trespassers.”
“My cell phone, my wallet…” Noah patted the leg of his jeans, feeling for his truck key. At least he’d kept that on him. But the key to his room at the B&B was tucked neatly into the front pocket of the pack. It was going to be damn embarrassing to explain to Avery that a bear ate it.
“Replaceable. And the bear will abandon what it can’t eat. We can come back and look for your stuff later.”
“Ma’am! Ma’am!” One of the guards bellowed. Noah glanced back. A guard on the inside held a rifle over his head, passing it up to another, who was halfway over the fence. The third was on the ground already, reaching up to retrieve the weapon.
“Time for me to go, I think.”
Grace’s gaze followed his. “They’re not going to shoot you.”
“Let’s not test them.”
“I need to talk to you.”
He’d just kissed her and it had been a damn good kiss. The connection between them felt deeper than chemistry. Talk? No, Noah needed to run. Far and fast and right away. “Maybe some other time.”
“No, really. It’s important.”
She hadn’t let go of his arm, but he gently peeled her grip off. Was there a tactful way to say that he was the kind of walking disaster area smart women steered clear of? Probably not, but he squeezed her fingers before releasing them and saying, “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t be here.”
The guards were crashing through the trees now, almost on them.
“Yes, you should be. I need to — I want to—” She looked adorably flustered, her cheeks flushed, lips full, but he could see her pulling herself together, straightening he
r shoulders, lifting her chin. “I have a job for you if you want it.”
He paused for a second. A job? He’d been looking for months. But his hesitation was brief as the sounds got closer.
“Not sure this is the place for me.” Before she could argue further, he touched a finger to his temple in a wry half-salute, and started walking. He didn’t break into a run but he moved as quickly as he could. Within seconds, Grace and the guards were out of sight behind him.
10
Dillon
“He kissed my aunt. I can’t believe he kissed my aunt,” Dillon said. He was trailing along behind Noah with the other ghosts as Noah strode through the forest, at a pace not quite a jog, but fast enough that the ghosts were falling farther and farther behind him.
“It was a lovely kiss, too.” Rose clutched a hand to her heart. “So romantic. And then the way he stood in front of her with the bear.” She gave a shiver of delight. “It was almost as good as when Spider-Man rescued Mary Jane from those bad guys in the rain.”
“But he kissed her! My aunt.”
“I am fairly sure that technically she kissed him. It was quite forward of her.” Despite her words, Nadira didn’t sound disapproving. A small smile played around her lips.
“That bear! It was so cool!” Misam gave a skip and a hop, trying to keep up with the others’ longer strides.
“Kissing my aunt is not cool,” Dillon muttered. He kicked at a pine cone on the ground, his foot passing through it. Grace had had boyfriends before, of course. There’d been that dweeb she’d gone out with for a while in high school and then a revolving cast of professor-types who’d come to visit her on summer vacations. They hadn’t all been horrible but none of them were nearly good enough for her.
And neither was Noah. He glared at Noah’s back.