by London Casey
“I am—”
“Exhausted, and sore. Don’t lie, Kane. I can see it when you move. Are you done eating?”
“Apparently.”
She bit her lip at the irritable tone.
“You can finish. But we are both going to our separate beds once you’re done. It’s dark, and Marius already dismissed us from dinner.”
“Fine.”
He started eating again, and looked like a little boy who had his favorite toy taken away. Elizabeth poured a cup of water for him and handed it over before pouring one for herself. Once she finished, she stood, and moved to him.
“Can I ask for a goodnight kiss?”
“You can ask.”
She laughed, and kissed his cheek. “Goodnight, Kane.”
His arm wrapped around her before she could step back, and hauled her against his chest.
“I did not say no.”
He captured her lips in a kiss that scorched her. By the time he finally let her go, she had trouble walking.
“Goodnight, Beth.”
She mumbled, and used every piece of furniture available to get herself to the other side of the room. When she glanced back, he was grinning at her. She managed to crawl on to the bed without falling over, and lay back, smiling at the ceiling like a lovesick fool.
God help her, she loved him like crazy.
Voices echoed outside the window, then in the hall, coming closer. Elizabeth sat, grabbing the transport off the small side table just as Appia appeared in the doorway.
“I am sorry to wake you.”
“It’s fine. We weren’t sleeping yet. What is it?” She knew it had to be bad—Appia looked shaken.
“Word came from the barracks. Villius is dead.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Mac?” Light filtered into his temporary quarters from the hall as someone eased the door open. “It’s Colette. Are you here?”
He stepped out from behind the door—and had to grab her wrist before she shot him with her pistol. “You knew they were coming after me.”
“Too late to warn you.” She holstered her pistol and stepped in, closing the door behind her. “I’m sorry, Mac—Harper stomped in like he owned the place, and demanded a top to bottom tour. Dr. Kinimoto agreed, and then he confined everyone to quarters, with his men as guards to make sure we didn’t leave. I—I’m glad you’re all right.”
“Are you?”
“How can you even ask—” She cut herself off. She knew damn well why he asked.
He studied her until she blushed. She spun, and walked over to the fold away bed, keeping her back to him.
“I managed to hide under the desk in the lab.” He rubbed his face, exhausted from a sleepless night of working out calculations on his handheld. Right now, he needed someone to talk to, and she was it. “I had them, Colette, for a few seconds. But the connection was so bad I only got a few words from Elizabeth before I lost it.”
“And you’re doing what?” She finally met his gaze, her composure firmly in place. “Sitting around moping about it?”
“Trying to figure out what five random words mean.” He stalked across the room and shoved the list at her. “It’s taking weeks on that piece of archaic—” He cut himself off before he started swearing in front of her, and dropped to the narrow, uncomfortable bed, irritated and frustrated with his lack of progress.
Colette studied the list as she sat next to him. He blinked at his reaction to her, and stood, needing to put space between them before he did something stupid. Like kiss her.
“Two ad.” Her voice jerked him back. “Could be AD, like a date.”
“Where?” She pointed at the entry. The last thing Elizabeth said. “Stupid—I am so stupid.” He grabbed his handheld off the nightstand and punched it in, along with the other keywords. The search took longer, since they were far enough from the wireless to make it miserable. “Come on—bingo. Got a… oh, God.”
“Mac?” She moved to his side, lowered the screen until she could see it. “Is that it?”
“If this is right… they’re in Roman Britain. On Hadrian’s Wall.” He met her eyes, dread coiling in his gut. “We’re not supposed to be able to go back that far.”
God—no wonder he couldn’t find them. He wasn’t looking in the right centuries.
“Does this mean you can’t help them?”
“I don’t know, damn it! I need a real console, equipment that doesn’t groan when I touch it. I need you to get me back into the main lab.”
“Shit, is that all? Let me just escort you myself, Mr. Macaffrey. You want leg shackles with that visit, or just handcuffs?”
Mac smiled, her sarcasm pulling him out of his funk. “I’ll take none of the above.” His smile faded as he leaned against the wall. “I’m serious, though. I need to get in there. Just long enough to run a couple hunches through the big console.”
“I might be able to get you in.” She scanned him head to toe, and he felt like a show horse. “Yeah, it would work—but you’re not going to like it.”
She was right. He didn’t like it one damn bit.
Staring at himself in the mirror, Mac tried not to fidget in the borrowed Security uniform. Black never did suit him—he always looked like he was the corpse headed for a funeral. Maybe that’d work in his favor this time.
He followed Colette out of the locker room, and toward the main lab. He planned to bolt if he saw Harper, to keep her from taking the blame. She’d already risked too much by not killing him.
They made it to the lab without running into anyone, much easier since Doc cleared most everyone out of the building after lockdown. Mac wouldn’t be surprised if Harper booted out the rest, and installed his own pack of obedient rats.
He sprinted over to the main console and used the manual override to avoid scanning his palm print. Since he was supposed to be missing or dead, he’d like people to keep thinking he was, at least until he got Kane and Elizabeth back.
Then they’d take the rat bastard down.
The console hummed to life. As soon as the screen appeared Mac was tapping on it. The information that streamed across the screen was beautiful. He slid in an info chip and sent everything to it. He could download to his handheld and sort through it later.
“Mac!” Colette’s urgent whisper snapped his head up.
He nodded, executed one more search before he popped out the chip and hauled ass back to the door. Colette slid out first, held out her hand, then gestured for him to follow. His heart pounded harder with every hallway they passed through, until they approached the annex between the new building and the old. The familiar voice froze him inches from rounding the corner.
“Tell me what I want to know, and the pain will end. I promise you.” Harper’s slick voice echoed down the hall. From the direction of Mac’s hidey hole.
Colette stepped in front of him, drawing her pistol. He started to say something and she pressed her finger against his lips, shaking her head. Once he nodded, she inched along the wall—then waved at him to join her.
He saw why as soon as he reached her side. There was a surveillance mirror in the corner of the ceiling. They crouched down, to stay out of line of sight, and watched Harper move across the rounded mirror. Colette tensed next to him when his victim was revealed.
It was a member of Security.
He knelt on the floor, his face bloody. Mac saw the reason a second later, when Harper raised his arm. The bastard had a riding crop.
“I know that irritating Yank is still alive. I want to know where he has gone to ground, and what exactly he is doing.”
“I don’t know—” A sharp cry choked the man off when Harper snapped the crop against his cheek. Mac had to wrap both arms around Colette to keep her from attacking Harper.
“He’ll kill you both.” He whispered against her ear, waited for his words to sink in. She nodded, and he eased his grip. “I’m sorry.”
She nodded, and he saw the sheen of tears before she turned away
from him.
Harper stood over the doubled man. “One more time. Where is Macaffrey?”
He shook his head, and Harper struck him again, and again, following him to the floor as he collapsed under the assault.
Colette leaned into him, pressed her faced against his shoulder, flinching every time the crop hit.
Mac made a decision, and kissed her forehead. “Stay here,” he whispered.
“What are you—no—”
He stood, moving out of reach. And with a deep breath, stepped around the corner.
“Looking for me, Harper?” The rat bastard whirled, blood dripping off the crop. “Here I am.”
Chapter Sixteen
The rest of the night went by in a blur.
Elizabeth refused to let Kane go to the barracks without her. He was beyond exhausted, and she knew sleeping together had not been the best idea.
He used the hated cane, and she supported his other side as they followed Marius and Appia to the long barracks building closest to the wall. Soldiers stood outside, in small groups, most of them quiet as they glanced at the end of the building, where the centurion’s quarters stood.
Quintus met them outside the door, his face pale. “The women will not move beyond the door.”
Appia let go of Marius’ arm and stepped forward. “I want to—”
“He was gutted.”
Elizabeth covered her mouth. Appia stumbled back, reaching for Marius.
“The women will stay behind.” Marius cradled Appia’s face, kissed her forehead. “Take Elizabeth and return home, my heart.” His voice was gentle, his love evident in the way he touched her, soothed her. “We will be home as soon as we can.”
“Don’t you dare stand alone, Marius. Do you understand me?”
“I will keep Quintus and Kane with me at all times.” He kissed her. “Go home, now.”
Appia clutched Elizabeth’s hand as the men disappeared inside. Without speaking, they walked arm in arm back to the praetorium, Appia shaking against her. Elizabeth tightened her grip around the older woman’s waist.
“Quintus will keep them safe, Appia. I wouldn’t want to meet him in a dark alley.”
“You have a unique way with words. Thank you,” she whispered. “Since Marius was injured, I worry more. He tries to be the man he was before, but he isn’t, and I don’t know how to get through to him.”
“I have the same issue with Kane.” She told Appia more about his recent injury, the one that left his right arm weak. “He was ready to leave me over it, send me away.”
“Marius spouted the same nonsense.” Appia smiled, wiping at the tears on her face. “I gave him an earful when he was aware enough to understand, but not well enough yet to walk away from me. I wanted to go back to Rome, but when the injury forced him to retire, and the former commander disappeared, Marius convinced me to stay.”
“What did he do?”
“He promised to marry me.” Appia laughed, the tension in her face easing as she talked. “It was not my plan to fall for a soldier, but he smiled at me in the Forum one morning, and I was lost. My father raged; my mother let him, then took my aside, and gave me this ring,” she touched the delicate silver ring on her left hand, a gorgeous cabochon of gold streaked lapis set in the silver. “It was given to her on the occasion of her wedding. She considered me wanting to run after Marius the closest she would get. She also gave me enough money to set up my shop and a separate residence, and told me to live the life I wanted, even if it meant leaving.”
“Following him all the way here—that took courage.”
“Less than you think—and I didn’t follow him, not at first.” She let out a sigh, stopped in front of the praetorium. “He asked me to come with him. I said no. It wasn’t until after he left that I realized I made the biggest mistake of my young life. Marius is my other half. With him I am stronger. Without him, I felt—lost, and more alone than I thought possible. That was ten years ago, and I’ve spent nearly every day with him since.”
She led Elizabeth inside, leaving her in the small family dining room while she went to the kitchen for food. Elizabeth wandered across the hall to the courtyard, and stared at the sky. Stars lit up the dark night, so many she could spend days counting them.
It was beautiful here; a wild, green beauty that surrounded the civilized Romans. It was a contrast she wanted to draw again and again. She had already filled the notebook, and turned it over to start on the other side.
Appia returned, stopping to admire the sky. “It is so beautiful here. My heart aches too often at the violence this land has seen.”
She gripped Elizabeth’s hand, and after another minute, led her back to the dining room. They both sat, lamplight warming the cool night air, and stared at the tempting spread. At least, it would have been tempting, if Elizabeth had any appetite.
She swallowed, looked at Appia. “With Villius dead—”
“We are back at the beginning. You’re afraid, with Kane as the bait for a killer we are no longer certain of.”
“He’s already been hurt, so badly.” Elizabeth covered her mouth and stood, one arm wrapped around her waist. “I’ve never been this scared before.”
Appia hugged her, holding on when Elizabeth tried to pull away. “You have been Kane’s support all this time. Let me do it for you.”
With a shuddering breath, Elizabeth lowered her head to Appia’s shoulder, tears burning her eyes. Before she could start in on a good cry she heard Marius’ voice.
Both of them rushed out to the courtyard. Elizabeth’s heart skipped when she saw that Marius was alone.
“Where is Kane?”
“He is with Quintus. Investigating,” Marius said, holding up his hand before she could blast him. “Villius fought whoever killed him. We are hoping to find some evidence.”
Relief left her dizzy—and her knees buckled as her head started pounding. Appia caught her, both arms supporting her. Her relief was short-lived when Marius stepped to her.
“What?”
“If no evidence is found, or there is information that proves Villius was innocent,” he took her hand, his concern for her obvious. “I want to make a new announcement, and Kane has agreed. I want the rest of my men to believe that Kane is now the prime suspect.”
Kane searched the barracks room Villius shared with three other soldiers. It was bigger, and much more organized than he expected. Villius had the bunk near the back wall, and a small chest that held his belongings. Kane decided to start there, moving the small table with the clay oil lamp closer, and lowered himself to the bunk, his back aching.
Now that he had offered himself up as the target of the investigation, he and Marius hoped the real killer would relax, and make a fatal error. Until it happened, he would be separated from Elizabeth. Just the thought hurt, more than he ever expected.
He pushed it aside for now, and used his left hand to open the chest. There wasn’t much there; most of Villius’ belongings had been found on him when he was caught trying to sneak away. But Kane did find something shoved under a torn tunic at the bottom of the chest.
The small leather pouch dropped three items into Kane’s hand: his missing earring, a gold ring with an eagle on the flat top, and something he thought was still buried in the bottom of his backpack.
The ID pin every agent was required to carry, to identify himself to an unknown agent.
Villius planned to plant more evidence against him.
“Bloody hell.” He slipped it in his pocket, and started to drop the other two items back in the pouch when the voice behind him froze his hand.
“Find something incriminating, Kane?”
He stood, wanting to be mobile. The fury edging Quintus’ voice told him he may need to fight his way out. Not that he could; even at full strength he would have been hard pressed to beat Quintus.
“What Villus already put forth against me, and a ring—”
Quintus pinned him against the wall, so fast Kane had no time to rea
ct. His back screamed at the contact. “You won’t be walking away this time. Did you get him to trust you, talk him into standing close enough, before you ripped your knife into his gut?”
“What are you—”
“Only one man has this strange fabric on his person.” Quintus held up a piece of the sweater Kane wore here. A machine knit sweater. He had not touched it since they arrived, preferring loose shirts he could put on himself, and recently, nothing on his back when he could manage it. “This belongs to you.”
“Yes.” Kane swallowed, forced the next words out of his throat. “Where did you find it?”
“Turn around.” Quintus backed off, giving Kane room to do so. Every move hurt—and he bit back a harsh cry when his arms were wrenched behind him. Quintus bound his wrists, yanked him around and hauled him across the room, holding him up when he stumbled. “You should know. He tore it off you when you killed him.” They halted in the doorway, long enough for the centurion to answer his question. “I found it clutched in his hand.”
“He’s being framed! You have to see that!” Elizabeth stood in front of Marius’ desk, angry and terrified.
She had watched Quintus drag Kane past her, bound and in pain. Before she could follow, Appia stopped her, physically restraining her when she heard the distinctive sound of chain dragged over stone.
Now Kane’s fate rested in the hands of one man. He laid his hands on the top of his desk and met her eyes. The single lamp next to him cast shadows on his exhausted face. “I have five deaths hanging over me. Three of them can be tied to Kane.”
“But—”
“Let me finish, Elizabeth. Please sit.” She did, gripping the seat of the wood chair. “There is too much evidence now that points to him. I can no longer ignore it. I am officially charging him in the death of Villius, and suspicion of murder for the others.”
“Can I see him?”
“No.” Marius raised his hand to stop her objection. “He should be in a proper cell, but I am keeping him close so he stays alive until the trial. As far as you are concerned, he is in a cell, and not in a room at the back of my home—”