by S. L. Gray
Melanie smiled but shook her head. "Can't leave yet." Yes, she'd been pulling long hours on this project and she deserved a break, but their lab had never handled something this important. The artifacts from Giza had been sent rush delivery. Everything hinged on their flawless restoration. The owner was a private collector with very deep pockets. One very much inclined to give back if the work met his exacting expectations.
Hard not to read a threat into the directive, but she didn't have a reason to worry. No one complained about Melanie's work and never had. There were no disciplinary notes in her permanent file. She didn't cut corners or shirk her duties. She gave every job, no matter how small, her personal best.
But maybe she'd gone a little overboard this time. Pressing herself to be perfect wouldn't help her nerves, or her asthma, for that matter. Making herself work through cramps, hunger pangs and bathroom breaks just made her more likely to make mistakes the museum couldn't afford.
There it went again, another shiver up her spine and a sudden band of tightness across her chest. She looked to the lab door, half expecting a face to be pressed to the glass, watching her every move. Her hands felt heavy. All she held was the broken pot shard, but she could almost swear it felt warm. This couldn't be her asthma. Maybe she'd started having anxiety attacks like her mother. God help her if that was so.
"I said." Noura nudged her shoulder. "Have you discovered some great truth of the universe? Suddenly you're giving that thing deep, meaningful stares." She gestured at the pottery piece.
A piece Melanie abruptly put down. "It's nothing," she lied as the tightness disappeared again. "Just my eyes getting tired and my nerves humming like mad. You're right. We should get out." She definitely needed to clear her mind. She stood and crossed the room to the wash station, peeled off her gloves and scrubbed her still-trembling hands.
Behind her, Noura tsked and went to a window. She tugged at the latch, but it didn't budge. It couldn't. Every lock had been fused and sealed to prevent exactly what she was trying to do. "It would help if we could open windows."
"So we can ruin artifacts?" Melanie pulled a paper towel. "I'm sure Dr. Andruss would say our lungs are less valuable than most of the pieces that pass through this room."
"Well, Dr. Andruss can bite me." Noura rested her butt against the window sill. Hands tucked behind her, she looked every inch the picture of mischief as she wrinkled her nose. "He might as well be three thousand years old himself."
True, maybe. The director of the Sentinel's antiquities program certainly preferred rules and procedures to experimentation and impromptu creativity. Still, he'd hired her after a single interview and sung her praises for their entire hour-long conversation. He'd practically gushed over her letters of reference. She should come to his defense. He deserved her loyalty.
She couldn't resist the joke. "Four."
Noura grinned and came back to the table. "Come on. Let's go get lunch. If anyone tries to stop us, I am totally not against using your condition to make them feel bad."
Melanie arched an eyebrow. "My condition? You make it sound like I've got leprosy."
"Trust me, if it was that, there'd be a whole lot more screaming going on. Not to mention disinfecting." She made a show of backing away, hands up and not touching anything.
Melanie smiled wryly. "Good to know you've got my back in a pinch, Nour." Then she shook her head. "And I said break. I'm not scheduled to take lunch until one."
Noura heaved an overdramatic sigh and peeled off her gloves, making sure to snap the latex. "Rules, rules. They're made to be broken, you know? Especially when there's a medical emergency."
"Would you stop? I'm not that bad. Look." She took a deep breath, held it, and exhaled without coughing. "All better." Except the lingering sense that she was being watched. She'd make tea tonight. She'd use the white noise generator she'd bought and listen to ocean waves crashing or something. She'd meditate or take a long bath and soak off some stress.
"Fine," Noura said. "But I'm going. All this trying to convince you gave me a headache that can only be cured by pastrami and sauerkraut on handmade rye." She tossed her gloves in the trash bin and headed for the door.
Melanie glanced over her shoulder at the clock now proclaiming it almost twelve forty-five. Close enough. "All right, all right. Let me get my purse. But don't get any ideas. You're buying."
Noura beamed. "Brilliant. The sandwich guy at Market Square by the wharf promised he'd save lunch for me."
The sandwich guy. So that explained the sudden push for food. "You should just ask for his number."
"It's not like that." Noura fiddled with the strap on her purse. "We're just friends."
"Friends with potential benefits. Didn't you tell me he had great hands?"
"For shaking. For handing over change. It's not like that," Noura insisted again. "Now can we go?"
Melanie grinned. "We can go."
She wadded the paper towel in her hands with her cast-off gloves and pitched the mass toward the corner trash can. It dropped neatly into the bin without touching the sides. Two points. It might not impress anyone in the grand scheme of things, but she'd made thirty-one baskets in a row since she started counting two weeks back. When she hit fifty, she'd have a night out and a good stiff drink. Maybe she'd get lucky and find a sandwich guy of her own.
~
She was beautiful in the most gloriously mundane way. She moved with the sort of grace that stirred his blood, but more than that, her power intrigued him. How a child with so much potential had been missed was hard to understand, but dwelling on the past solved nothing. It was not too late.
Both sides could benefit from having someone like her on their side. She had a love of antiquities, all but a requirement in the game. She respected the history and the craftsmanship that went into the pieces she touched. This assured she would use a gentle hand with them, damaging nothing and revealing crucial secrets to those who watched closely. She was brilliant, if not clever, and curious if not charismatic. She could still be taught and shaped.
But only if he moved quickly. Icarus was aware of her now and had already made plans to scoop her up. Not smart plans, judging by the choice to bring the broken toy soldier home, but any action from their side meant he couldn't waste time, himself.
The pair brushed by him as they wandered down the pier, Melanie bending toward her smaller, dark friend, then straightening with a shake of her head as the other laughed. Sunlight caught in her hair for a moment, making the shadows between strands kindle a fiery red before it faded back into a more muted color. All part of the disguise she didn't even know she wore.
He breathed deep in the wake of her passage. Her perfume was subtle, not too sweet, hardly noticeable unless you sought it out on a breeze. Understated and soft, not drawing attention. No one would notice when it disappeared from the world until it was too late to bring it back.
That was one step too close to melodrama, he thought with a chuckle of his own. Of course he would have her, eventually, but she would come to him willingly, not because he'd kept her captive or forced her to be at his side. He had a strong will and powerful desires, but he wasn't crazy. Just determined to see the world acknowledge its mistakes.
And not let Melanie Kendrick become one of them.
~
Sunshine and fresh air wouldn't do Kade a damned lick of good. Not in his opinion, anyway. Not that he'd been asked.
Ironic, really, being sent on a stroll in broad daylight. The Icarus Unit had taken its name from the myth of the boy who flew too close to the sun. Its members excelled at stealth and dark-time dealings. Most of them went out of their way to avoid doing anything in the light.
Someone shadow-born, like Kade, worked much better in the depths of darkness than out in the open on a San Francisco pier. And yet here he was. The breeze across the water cut the heat of daylight, but he still felt weighted down by the sun. It made him slow and clumsy, an easy target. Nothing he wanted to be while checking out a
n assignment he still wasn't sure he'd accept.
"Earth to Kade? Come on, buddy. Take a look."
He definitely didn't want a partner. When he'd run with his family, he knew them almost as well as himself. He could usually predict when and where they'd be. He knew how far he could push them and what they needed in return to make them all better. He knew them and things had still gone sideways. He was here, they weren't, and he didn't want to re-learn how to trust somebody new. He'd argued about it for a good two hours. Arguments that inevitably got ignored. Always did when someone felt the need to save your ass. Especially if the rescue came courtesy of Garamendi.
When Kade's father brought him and his brother to the IU's attention, Garamendi had been an operations chief, someone Kade met and immediately categorized as important but not a friend. For the first couple years, their paths rarely crossed. The Kade boys were best at infiltration, in and out before anyone knew they'd been there. Garamendi's teams were packed with heavy hitters, the kind who didn't care about leaving messes or making noise.
They’d climbed the ranks together from different sides of the desk. Kade and his family were assigned to more sensitive cases, and Garamendi got promoted from operations to division to regional head. The higher they climbed, the more contact they had, until Garamendi made director and Kade's team became the go-to gang for retrieving artifacts. He’d had Garamendi's personal number on speed dial.
Then everything went wrong. He'd lost his father, his brother, and his purpose in one night. He walked away, gave it up, tried to forget who he'd been. He should have known they were still watching. Maybe they'd set up the take in Rio in the first place.
"Kade, you've got to see this." Farris had moved ahead and stood by the railing, a pair of binoculars in his hand. He held them out toward Kade and waggled them in invitation. "You're going to miss her. Come on!"
Kade set his jaw but moved to catch up. He'd agreed to this, no matter the means by which he'd been convinced. He'd do this job and then he'd decide whether he came back or not. Even if he had to go toe to toe with Garamendi again.
He fitted the binoculars securely against his eyes. The swipe of a thumb focused the view through the lenses until he could clearly see across the gap to the other pier Farris faced. He got a good look at people shopping. A little girl sharing her lunch with a pushy seagull. No fights, no fear, not a trouble to be seen. He glanced down at the other man, now leaning against the railing, elbows supporting his weight, and what was that smug look about? "You want to tell me what I'm supposed to see?"
At least that straightened him up. "What do you mean?" He snatched the binoculars out of Kade's hand. "They were right — no, they're still there. Just moving." He sighed like the sight made everything right with the world. "And just watch them move." His focus didn’t waver as he offered the binoculars back, which meant he bounced them off Kade's chest. "Look again."
Movement was a clue at least. Kade refocused and found his attention drawn to two women talking animatedly. Well. The shorter of the two was animated, hands moving almost as fast as her mouth. The taller looked more collected. Reserved, but interested...and interesting.
They were both professionals, judging by their clothing, and good friends if he was reading their body language right, but there most of the similarities came to an end. The taller woman looked serious, more focused. She looked like the sort determined to get ahead by relying on knowledge and skill, not her people-charming talents. The smaller woman was bright and enthusiastic, everything she said punctuated by a grin. She'd be the life of the party and always craving attention. She probably laughed too loudly. A real high-maintenance type.
The tall one would be the observer, a woman with secrets a smart man tried to pry loose. She might not flash or dazzle every day, but he was willing to bet when she did, she'd take the air out of a room. Despite the fact she walked with her shoulders back, there was something fragile about the way she moved, like she might just crumble if her steps got too broad. Like if she breathed too deeply, she might crack apart.
Like she knew she was being watched. She stopped mid-stride, her posture stiffening, and turned to look behind her like she’d heard something. Nobody approached the women. No one waved or jogged to catch up. She turned her head slowly, scanning the people passing by. Her friend doubled back, smile faltering, but the tall woman still didn’t move. She continued her cautious scan of the surroundings, then her eyes met Kade’s and she stopped with a flinch.
He felt the jolt as surely as she did, a solid shock of something low in his gut, then vibrations like a semi-truck rolling down the boards behind him. Kade hadn’t done anything to draw her attention. There was no way she could see him from this far away, and yet he watched her eyes — a dramatic hazel-green — narrow as she squinted, then widen in alarm. The color drained from her face and Kade’s heart kicked hard in response, urging him to vault the distance, get to her before she fell.
“That’s the girl I’m going to marry.”
He moved without thinking, dropped the binoculars without a care. He had his hands in Farris’s shirt and the other man pulled up onto his toes in a second, their faces so close he could count beads of sweat on his startled partner’s face. “Who. Is she?”
Kade heard Farris’s swallow and watched his pulse kick like a panicked rabbit’s in the hollow of his throat. The other man got his hands up between them, palms flat against Kade’s chest, a little cushion of space. “Which she are we talking about right now, buddy?” His voice hummed with nerves. “Your girl or mine?”
In the moment, he’d forgotten the lively little companion. Hell, in the moment, he’d apparently lost his mind. He let go of Farris and pivoted away, taking a breath, taking a second to get his head on straight. This. This was why he didn’t work with partners. This was why a new assignment was destined to fail. He didn’t belong in the field with his mind playing tricks on him. What had just happened was more than impossible. It was crazy.
And yet his nerves were still singing, demanding he do something. “I don’t know.” He tried to keep disgust out of his voice. Failed and went on anyway. “Both of them. Neither. It doesn’t matter. I’m not doing this.”
“She’s your assignment,” Farris countered. He didn’t give an inch when Kade glared down at him again. He gestured toward the distant pier. “The woman. The one who just freaked you out for some reason? Her name’s Melanie Kendrick. She’s the job.”
No. Yes. It made sense and he didn’t want it. It couldn’t be this easy to draw him back in. “How do you know? You don’t know,” he accused. “I didn’t tell you which one I meant.”
Farris shrugged, then stooped to pick up the binoculars, inspecting them with a faint frown before glancing up again. “I’m good at guessing. I also know only one of them is on target.” His lips quirked into a lopsided smile. “And if you’ve suddenly got a thing for Noura, we’re going to have words, partners or not.”
Kade balled his hands into fists, dug his nails into his palms. He wasn’t ready to joke and laugh. He still had ghosts to deal with. He still had things to prove.
He could still feel her gaze on his, feel the pull to find her. Help her. Save her.
He closed his eyes. He could give in and follow his instincts or he could destroy himself. Wanting to deny the truth didn’t make it so. He’d committed in that first half-second when their eyes met and there was no going back. “Tell me.”
Chapter Three
Melanie stayed silent all the way back to the office. Noura fussed at her for clamming up and threatened to call an ambulance if she didn’t say something, but what would she have said? That she’d had a moment with someone she couldn’t see but had to find?
Being outside in the sunlight had definitely helped for a while. She was breathing easier, laughing with Noura. She didn’t even mind the hot dog vendor’s horrible pick-up lines. Noura’s easy laughter in response kept Melanie smiling, until her paranoia had come crashing down again.
No, not paranoia. Earlier that morning, yes, perhaps she could have put that name to the unexplainable feeling she was being studied. On the pier, though, she’d confirmed someone was watching her. For a moment, she swore she caught a glimpse of him. Tall and dark and inviting her to huddle in the safety of his shadow.
She couldn’t admit that.
That sounded crazy, and though she might have lost her mind, it wasn’t something a smart employee admitted out loud. She needed this job, yes, but more to the point, she loved her job, and she wasn’t going to risk it over a minor psychotic break.
So despite the itch to go back to her project and figure out what exactly she’d been piecing together, which would ordinarily have soothed her jangled nerves, she made an important decision. She wasn’t going back into the lab, to lose herself in her work and ignore Noura’s attempts to distract her. Instead, she took advantage of an overabundance of sick time, called it quits early, and went home.
It was the first time she hadn’t been in the lab past closing since she’d started at the Sentinel. Noura told her she couldn't decide whether to be impressed or intimidated when Melanie clocked sixty hours a week at the lab. Sixty hours every week for a full month. Her first month in the job. She was convinced her new lab partner would burn herself out, working so hard, but hard work had never frightened Melanie.
In fact, she embraced it. She wasn’t the sort who could sit and watch TV for hours or mindlessly flick through websites full of cute animal to pass the time. She needed to be doing something, to keep her hands busy. Idle nothingness gave her stomach aches and made her feel guilty.
Some of which could be blamed on being the child of overachievers. Her father designed and made furniture by hand. Her mother researched diseases Melanie couldn’t even pronounce. Their home was immaculate; Mother’s garden had been featured in a magazine, twice, and they called her every Sunday at 6 p.m. on the dot, even when they were traveling.