Jared pushed to his feet. “Kincade lied. He brought three of the faceted stones with him. They aren’t far away.”
“Where?” Preston snapped.
“What happens to Elizabeth McNamara?” Jared touched the woman’s clammy forehead, steeling himself against an icy flood of names, dates, and plans. “She needs medical care, too.”
“As soon as I have those stones.”
“I’ll tell you when Maggie’s in the car.”
Maggie’s face was set with determination. “I won’t leave without my father.”
Kincade pushed to one elbow, every breath straining. “Go, little peach. This is the last gift I can give you, and I hope it will be the most valuable. Go.” He gave a harsh cough and then his eyes sank shut.
“Do as he says, Maggie.” Jared gave her a steadying look and prayed she would understand. She had to. The odds were getting worse fast.
Trust me.
Maggie nodded, then rose shakily and moved to the door with stiff, angry steps.
“Nothing happens until she reaches the car,” Jared said tensely. “I’ll be watching.”
“Jared, you can’t—”
In the same instant, Jared shoved Maggie through the open door, out into the swirling snow, then whirled to face Preston. Greed would make him delay firing until the last second, Jared knew. That would give him precious seconds to maneuver.
“I’ll kill her,” Preston rasped, leaping toward the door.
But Jared was outside one stride before him. “Not while I’m here, you won’t.”
Their shoulders met, strained. Flesh met flesh and in that instant Jared saw other details that hadn’t surfaced in the psychiatrist’s mind: a trail of dead on four continents. A secluded farmhouse where twelve men had met to decide the fate of the world they would carve apart between them. Finally he saw the rest of Preston’s plan.
After all useful information had been squeezed free, Jared would be bound and gagged in the car they had driven from the abbey. Then he would be sent to the bottom of the loch, with Maggie beside him.
From the corner of his eye Jared saw movements against the stark landscape. A gray shape perched on top of a rocky outcrop. Other figures huddled nearby, almost obscured by the heavy veil of snow.
“Get back,” Preston snapped. A bullet exploded into the snow inches from Maggie’s foot. “Otherwise the next one lands in her stomach, and that’s a damned painful way for anyone to go. But I’ll see to it that you the first, Commander.”
Dimly, Jared heard Maggie cry out at the sound of gunfire. She was nearly at the car, her face white. He felt a wave of relief as she slid behind the wheel, slammed the door and locked it.
At least she would be safe for the moment, while he dealt with Preston. And it had to be fast, if he hoped to save Daniel Kincade’s life.
“I need those stones,” Preston hissed. He was out the door now, circling warily in the snow. “Give me answers, MacNeill, or I won’t hesitate to take you down. I have a chopper expected any moment, and I’ve sent my man to be sure they find us here.”
“Stop.” Behind them came a groan. Kincade stood braced in the doorway, his face ashen. “I h-had to hide them,” he muttered, his voice reedy. “Couldn’t take chances until after I disappeared.” His eyes seemed to glaze.
Jared knew the old man didn’t have much time. “The stones are hidden in his car,” he said to Preston. “He’s wrapped them in canvas and jammed them beneath one of the tires.”
“Where did he leave the car?”
Jared frowned as he saw Kincade struggle to stay upright. He was losing blood fast, and every minute was precious. Their only hope was to keep Preston guessing. “He left his car behind a hedgerow near the northern entrance to the village. The stones are there.” In a flat voice, Jared gave Preston the detailed location. “But you’ll have one hell of a time finding the stones in this snow.”
Preston lurched forward. “That will be your job, Commander.” He gestured angrily with his gun. “The chopper has a medical team and they can take care of Kincade, but first you’ll drive us back to the village. If you don’t find the stones, I’ll kill you and Kincade’s daughter myself. Her father will be going with us—for obvious reasons. Now move.”
Jared assessed his choices and decided he had none. Grimly, he helped Kincade to his feet, all but carrying him to Preston’s car.
“Hurry.” Preston gave him a sharp push. “We’ve spent too many years establishing our network to fail now, with success so close.” He gave Jared another jab, but this time his uncovered wrist slammed against Jared’s neck.
Even as he struggled to keep Kincade’s heavy body upright, Jared felt the burst of contact bring an instant rush of images.
Jungle.
The rumble of distant explosives.
The sound of marching soldiers.
Realization struck him with deadly force. “It was you, Preston? My God, you and your infernal network were behind the explosion in Thailand?”
“I wondered when you’d fit the pieces together.” Preston smiled smugly. “We had a successful network in Thailand, and the money was crucial to our growth. Too bad you couldn’t be swayed to join us. But of course, the local police were delighted to see the last of you since you complicated their business arrangements. When new contacts in Myanmar needed an English prisoner for a political campaign, you were the obvious choice.”
Jared fought back fury. He had been traded off without a second thought, part of a mad grab for power? “What about the bomb outside the Bank of China? Was that one of yours?”
“It suited our ends. Things were growing entirely too peaceful in Asia. The communists hadn’t attacked as the population feared, and we needed fresh discord. In times of chaos, civilians inevitably seek out those who are equipped to deal with death and destruction, which is us. The soldiers whose names are always forgotten. The ones who do the dirty jobs for pittance pay.” Preston’s jaw worked hard. “But no more, by God. Now open the car door and get Kincade inside.”
Wind swooped down from the cliffs as Jared moved through the blinding world of white. Even Preston was shoved back for an instant by the unpredictable gusts.
Jared knew he would have to act swiftly. Once they were in the car, he would have no more chances. As he touched the door, wind whipped snow around his shoulders, leaving him blinded. In that instant the ghost of an idea took shape.
He tugged forcefully on the door, feigning irritation, then turned to Preston. “I’ll have to go around. The door is locked.”
“Make it fast,” Preston growled. “The chopper will be here in less than fifteen minutes.”
Jared leaned Kincade against the car and crossed to open the front door. Kincade’s eyes fluttered as Jared eased him into the seat.
“M-Maggie?” he rasped.
“Fine.”
“My pocket—take the stones,” the old man rasped. “It’s too late for me now. Whatever happens, Preston and his kind must never have them.” He produced a small canvas bag, which Jared slid into his pocket. Then he straightened the old man in the seat, in the process sliding the door latch down until it locked.
“What’s taking you so long?” Preston was only feet from the car, his face set in a mask of anger. As he spoke, something streaked over the snow and darted between his feet. He spun hard, cursing, and a line of bullets bit into the white slope.
A cat—or what looked like a cat, Jared thought.
And with Preston occupied…
He sprinted forward, ignoring the rain of gunfire in the drifts around him. With luck, he could lead Preston out of range, on toward the steep rocks to the north.
“You can’t escape.” Preston stumbled through the snow.
Two more bullets hissed toward Jared’s back. A bullet dug fire across his right thigh, but even then he didn’t stop. Snow whipped around him, leaving the world a veil of white, and he prayed that he could keep his sense of direction. But even then he heard Preston gaining on him
.
With barely a break in stride, Jared tossed his heavy coat down into the swirling snow and kept on running.
“You never could learn to play the game properly, MacNeill. Too bad, since you might have been an asset in the new world we are creating.” Preston stopped with a hiss, eyes narrowed on the shape stretched before him beneath the swirling flakes. He shoved snow out of his eyes, laughing in triumph. “But you chose the wrong side. And now you’ll the for that.”
He was still laughing when he sent a bullet through the dark shape at close range.
But there was no lurch of muscle, no groan of shock and pain. Cursing, he kicked at the shape, which tangled around he feet. Jared lunged at him from behind, knocking his pistol into a drift.
Though ten years older, Preston was in peak condition. He burned with the fervor of a zealot, twisting and dodging, but Jared was fighting for the woman he loved, not for abstractions, power or governments. With every breath, he drew a strength that surged beyond normal limits.
He parried once, slammed Preston to the side, and gripped his neck. “Do you know what it’s like to be crouched in a box in searing heat?” he rasped. “Have you heard the screams of tortured men around you and smelled the sweat of their fear? You will, Preston. Right now there is a special box being made for you and your kind in hell.”
With a cry of rage, the rogue officer twisted free and slammed his boot into Jared’s bleeding thigh. Gasping, Jared stumbled sideways, blinded by the impact. Over the whine of the wind he heard the drone of engines and the whir of blades.
Preston sprang forward, searching for his fallen weapon while Jared struggled to clear his vision. Through a haze of pain, he saw Preston dive forward toward the snow, his head thrown back in triumph.
But before the Englishman could reach his goal, a cat sprang from the skeletal bough of a pine tree with claws bared, knocking the officer off stride and away from his gun. Snow gusted around them as the engine roar grew louder and the dark blades of a military helicopter whined overhead, moving north.
Preston followed, snaking past huge boulders and a row of skeletal trees. As Jared followed, he heard the restless slap of water somewhere to his right. He could not allow Preston to reach the helicopter and his flight to freedom. Hurtling over the rocky slope, he closed the gap as the ground fell away into a hollow ringed by trees. In the center stood a gray boulder covered with lichens. Above it was a snow-covered tree with a forked, broken branch.
The same tree.
The same rock that Jared had seen in a dozen nightmare visions.
For Jared, the world seemed to snap into two images, one white with snow, the other dream-like, the core of too many nightmares. He tried to shake off a sense of unreality, frozen at the familiarity of the scene, knowing his own death hung close enough to touch.
A tall figure loomed out of the blanketing white. “I’ll tend to Kincade and his daughter, man.” Ronan MacLeod glared at the retreating aircraft. “You had best go after the others.”
A pistol cracked.
Jared squinted into the white wall of snow, driven almost horizontal by the wind. Blindly, he stumbled forward, only to stop as he felt his boots sink deep into a layer of peat. From a boyhood spent beside loch and glen, he knew the deadly significance of the soggy marsh that hissed and rippled beneath him. But a city-bom Englishman like Preston was not so lucky.
Desperately the officer struggled on, hands flung forward as the helicopter circled overhead. In clumsy strides, he crossed the edge of the peat bog, then clambered up a rocky slope that rose up out of sight in the banked clouds.
Preston was nearly at the top when the helicopter returned, circling sharply. Caught in a gust, he plunged sideways, unable to find his footing in the ice and snow.
“Preston, wait.” Jared felt his words snatched away by the wind.
Too late.
The English officer cried out as his body toppled forward off the sharp ridge, then catapulted out through space. The wind amplified his cry of terror in agonizing waves as his feet thrashed vainly. Then he plunged down to meet his icy death in the waters of the loch rippling far below.
Maggie squinted into the driving snow. Fighting a wave of dread, she stumbled over the white slope, following Jared’s ragged tracks.
As soon as Preston had disappeared, she had gone to her father in the car. He was now in the capable hands of Perpetua Wishwell, who assured her that he would not be lost to her for a long while yet. Hope MacLeod had already gone to fetch the local doctor from Glenbrae, and her husband was expected back any moment.
But Maggie couldn’t forget Jared’s grim certainty of his death, and that forewarning drove her over the snow with wind and gravel clawing at her face. Preston’s fallen gun was a reassuring weight, dug from the snow and now shoved inside her coat pocket.
A shrill cry carried on the wind, bringing a new sense of dread. With tears blurring her vision, she clambered on toward a small clearing where snow drifted around a weathered boulder. Nearby stood a tree with a broken branch.
No, Maggie’s mind screamed. She could not let Jared’s nightmares turn real. She refused to lose him in this bleak place he had seen in so many dreams.
Metal blades beat over her head, and a dark shape loomed from the turbid gray clouds. At the same moment, Maggie saw the flash of Jared’s bright plaid. She struggled up the slope to his side while the helicopter hovered low. When Maggie saw the blood that stained the snow beneath him, she gave a broken cry.
Closing her eyes, she shoved him forward and covered him with her body, shielding him in blind refusal to allow fate to take him from her. Somehow she would cheat his grim visions. She would hold him and cover him with her body if she had to.
She’d had a few visions of her own lately. Primal and deep, they whispered that Jared had belonged to her in far more than a single lifetime. This time she would not lose him.
She crouched above him, tightening her grip on his shoulders, refusing to surrender to fear and madmen. Preston and his followers would never harm him again. Ronan MacLeod would follow shortly, and after him would come a score of villagers from Glenbrae. She had only to keep Jared safe until they arrived.
Jared rolled, his eyes narrowed against the wind, taking her with him, away from the surging blades into the shelter of the lichen-covered rock and the tree with a broken limb. Hard hands gripped her; a broad chest rose before her. She heard his voice, and its smoky tones plunged deep into her soul. “Stop fighting me, woman.”
“They won’t get you. Not again. Preston can shoot me, but I won’t move.”
“Forget about Hugh Preston,” Jared growled. “He’s fallen to the loch and he’s beyond any human help now.”
He struggled to rise as the helicopter pitched, whirling snow up in sheets.
“No,” Maggie cried. “You have to get away. I’m of no use to them, but they want you. Just go, while you still can.” She pushed him away toward the cottage as the aircraft door opened and a man in a jumpsuit leaped to the ground. Grimly, Maggie shoved past Jared and raised Preston’s pistol in a desperate grip.
The man in the jumpsuit halted. “Dear sweet lord, what’s been going on here?”
Snow swirled over Nicholas Draycott’s dark hair and anxious face as he stared from Maggie to Jared. “Jared, is that you? If so, perhaps you’ll tell me why Maggie is holding a gun.” His eyes narrowed on the snow. “And why you’re bleeding like a pig.”
Maggie spun with a gasp. “Dear God, there’s so much blood. Here, lean on me.”
“My dearest love, I’ll survive,” Jared muttered with a hint of a smile.
Maggie swallowed hard. “Hope MacLeod went for a doctor. They should be back very soon.” She turned her cheek to Jared’s chest, breathing raggedly. “I thought Preston—I thought you—”
“Nay, love.”
“Don’t talk. Just keep your strength until we reach the cottage. It isn’t far. Maybe we can commandeer that helicopter of Lord Draycott’s.”
“No more talking.” Maggie gripped him tightly. “I won’t let you waste your energy. Your leg—”
Jared stopped her with a kiss that could have seared a platinum plate. Long and slow, he drove his lips over hers, sealing out everything but the wild race of their hearts.
She pulled away with a broken sound. “Can you walk? We need to hurry.”
“Later.” He opened his freezing hands to cradle her face. “I need something else first.”
Behind them Nicholas Draycott cleared his throat. “I could swear I saw a cat racing over that slope. Perhaps it was some kind of mirage.”
“It was a cat,” Jared answered, never looking up from Maggie’s face. “Damned good timing he had, too. If it weren’t impossible, I’d almost say he was kin to that great creature I saw in your conservatory.” He touched Maggie’s chin. “Odd, what imagination does in this kind of a storm.”
“Perhaps it’s blood loss,” Nicholas said grimly. “We have a physician with us. Let’s have him look at your leg.”
“Later,” Jared repeated. “Send him down to check on Maggie’s father first.”
“But how—” Nicholas gave an exasperated sigh as Jared pulled Maggie closer and slid his hands into her hair.
“Stubborn, impossible man,” she whispered. “We need to hurry.” But her answering kiss took the sting from her words. When her head rose, her cheeks were wet with tears. “What in the world am I going to do with you?”
“Love me,” Jared said hoarsely, brushing snow from her cheeks. “Today. Tomorrow. Forever. That’s all I want in life.”
Maggie leaned closer as the wind snapped around them and gave a shaky laugh. “Max is going to be very jealous.”
She thought she heard Jared mumble something about puppy farms before his lips closed hard over hers.
OUTSIDE GLENBRAE HOUSE THE SNOW FELL ON, SILENT and thick. Clouds billowed low and white wedges grew against the leaded window, while a dozen people gathered around the roaring fire in the comfortable kitchen.
Morwenna Wishwell filled another steaming mug with tea and splashed in a generous amount of whisky, managing to slosh water over the table and both shoes in the process.
The Perfect Gift Page 36