by A. J. Quinn
Tate raised a brow and started to laugh. “How incredibly Neanderthal. Did you think I would have stopped you?”
“No, but my leg probably would have collapsed.”
“Oh.” Tate sounded almost disappointed. “Another time? Perhaps when your leg is stronger?”
Feeling relief wash over her, Evan drew the first deep breath she had taken since finding the knife on the trail that morning. Pulling Tate gently into her arms, she held her close, breathing in her warm familiar scent. “This isn’t going to be easy.”
“The important things seldom are. All that matters is I love you,” Tate whispered and their lips came together before Evan could say anything else.
The sound of someone clearing their throat brought Tate back to the present. She wasn’t certain how long she and Evan had stood on the deck, arms wrapped around each other. But slowly, bit by bit, the world slipped back into focus. The smell of the ocean, the rhythmic slapping of the waves against the pilings, the sound of voices as Alex and Jenna discussed the imagery in a particular painting he’d just finished.
“Sorry to disturb you again so soon. We’re finished installing the cameras.”
Turning within the shelter of Evan’s arms, Tate came face-to-face with Tom Foley. “That’s good,” she said. “Do you need anything else?”
“I’m hoping we can set up a meeting with the forensic artist we use so we can get a composite of what Khalid looks like today.” He glanced at Evan. “Or at least what he looked like when you last saw him.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Evan reached for the sketch pad she’d left lying on the table. Opening it, she passed it to the sheriff. “You’ll find several different renditions.”
She paused and Tate reached for her hand. “When I knew him in Afghanistan, Khalid had long hair and a scraggly beard. When I saw him in Germany, his hair was short and he had a full beard. Outside the market in Seattle, he had dreadlocks—my guess is he added them to change his look again. In any case, he still had a beard, although it was much shorter. He still had the locks when I saw him on the trail, but he was clean shaven.”
Foley leafed through the pad and looked at the sketches she’d made then whistled. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
“That’s the advantage of working with an artist,” Alex said softly as he came up behind Foley and stared at the numerous sketches she’d done. Tate edged closer and saw Evan had drawn Khalid in a combination of frontal poses and profiles.
There were versions with both short hair and long. Some bearded, others clean shaven. All different, but Tate realized she could still recognize the man by the shape of his mouth, the chillingly dark eyes. Somehow Evan had managed to capture on paper what were probably the most distinctive characteristics of Khalid’s face.
“I’ve seen your brother’s stuff at a gallery in Seattle,” Foley said. “I can’t understand most of it, but my wife Pam likes it. All I can tell you is—”
“Alex is the artist in this family,” Evan said firmly.
“But quite clearly not the only artist.” For an instant, Alex’s eyes locked with Evan’s. “Maybe we can do a joint show sometime in the spring. That would be awesome and it would give you enough time to get some pieces together, don’t you think? We could set the West Coast art scene on its head.”
“Alex—”
Tate squeezed Evan’s hand again, felt it tremble, and sent Alex a pleading look.
Alex smiled. “We can talk about it later, when there isn’t so much going on.”
Tom Foley coughed awkwardly, staring at all three of them before reaching into his pocket He pulled out a business card and handed it to Evan. “I was also thinking—that is, this is how to reach me if you ever need to talk. Day or night.”
“About what, Tom?”
“Life, death, flying machines. Anything and everything or nothing at all. Whatever you want. I won’t mind if you wake me up.” He looked out over the water. “The doctors tell me I’ve adjusted real well, but there are still days I feel pain in my right foot.”
Evan seemed to understand.
“Things get bad from time to time, and there’s this SEAL I met in rehab. Lives in Tucson. I call him sometimes and we talk. It helps,” Foley said as he stepped back. “He reminds me to keep my focus on the here and now. Not to think back, or look too far ahead.”
“Thanks.” Evan started to tuck the card into her pocket. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
Tate took the card from Evan and placed it in her own pocket. “I’ll put it by the phone.” She then lifted Evan’s arm and slipped under it, holding her close. Evan murmured something to her, but it was too low, too husky for Tate to clearly hear her. But the sentiment was clear and she burrowed closer, seeking and sharing warmth.
Chapter Thirty-two
By the time she crawled into bed, Evan was beyond exhausted. Maybe it was all the talk about Khalid and Afghanistan that had drained her. Maybe she was just tired from trying to deal with too many emotions on too little sleep. Maybe she needed a few hours of sleeping and laughing and loving to chase away the shadows.
Maybe.
She pressed close to Tate, burying her face against her neck, needing the reassurance that came from listening to her heartbeat. Halfway to sleep, she placed her hand on Tate’s chest, touched the silky skin above her breasts, and sighed contentedly. And with Tate holding her, stroking her hair, she fell asleep.
The next time she opened her eyes, the gray half-light of the quiet early morning was beginning to seep through the window. She remained perfectly still, her heart pounding and her body taut, while she focused on the reassuring sound of Tate breathing next to her and absorbed the incredible comfort of Tate’s arms wrapped around her.
Dreams, she thought ruefully, feeling as though she was still mired in them. Knowing she would not sleep again. But unlike most recent occasions, the dreams that had disturbed her and left her pulse racing had nothing to do with Khalid. Instead, they’d been filled with pleasure. Erotic fantasies. Sweet Jesus.
It was difficult to complain when the dreams had actually enabled her to sleep straight through the night. But they had also left her with an insatiable hunger and a deep-seated ache that bordered on physical pain.
She shifted uncomfortably on the bed. The incessant ache reminded her of all the times she’d tried to sleep on the Nimitz, in a rack six feet long by three feet wide, with nothing but dreams of Tate to get her through the lonely nights.
To survive the nights when she thought she’d go mad, when not at flight quarters she would go for a run on the flight deck. Otherwise she’d head for the gym where she lifted weights or logged endless miles on the treadmill.
And that’s what she needed to do. Right now. Before she pounced on Tate like a ravenous, out-of-control teenager.
With her purpose clearly in mind, she began to ease out from under Tate’s arm, which was draped across her midriff. But she’d managed to move only an inch or two when the arm suddenly tightened its hold on her.
“Where do you think you’re going? It’s still dark and it smells like rain.”
“I…I need to go for a run.”
Opening her eyes, Tate turned her head and looked at her in the dim light. “You’re kidding me, right?”
Evan froze in place.
“Evan, darling, listen to me. Until this thing with Khalid is resolved, there will be no going for a run. Certainly not by yourself. I thought you understood that?”
“I do, but—”
“No buts, love. I know running is how you relax, but it’s not safe. Not even if you drag those two deputies Tom left here and make them run with you.” She stirred and stretched, then gave a soft sigh. “If you really need to exercise, give me a few minutes to properly wake up and get ready and I’ll work out with you. Weights, treadmill, reformer, take your pick.”
Feeling foolish, Evan hesitated and tried to choose her words. “It’s all right. You need more sleep and it was a really dumb idea.” She shif
ted onto her back and her breath caught when Tate began to slide her hand lower on her abdomen.
“God, you’re strung tight this morning, aren’t you? What’s wrong? Bad dreams again? You’re so—oh.” Tate’s eyes met Evan’s and her expression changed. “Oh, baby, I’m certain I can do something that’s far better for you as stress relief than exercise,” she murmured before she rolled over. Her mouth skimmed over Evan’s breast before making a hot wet path across her abdomen. Then lower still.
Evan shivered, ready to go off like a grenade at the slightest touch. Any control she’d been holding on to disintegrated. She tangled her hands in Tate’s hair, whispered her name, and stopped thinking.
*
Rainy days were perfect for thinking—and for being haunted by what had been and what might happen.
Tate didn’t want to think about Khalid but found it impossible not to. She didn’t want to think about what he’d already done to Evan, but she was reminded every time she saw the cuts on her arm and on her back. Or every time Evan screamed out his name while caught in the throes of a nightmare.
She didn’t want to think about the danger that was still waiting somewhere nearby, but she was reminded of it every time the perimeter alarm system was triggered by a deer or coyote or racoon.
That was the problem with rainy days, she thought as she poured herself another cup of coffee. They gave a person too much time to think.
By midafternoon, the rain which had been falling steadily since dawn tapered off. The air was cool and there were tendrils of fog ghosting silently over the rocky landscape. Shifting restlessly, Tate moved closer to the window, scanning the deck until her eyes settled on Evan.
Evan had spent the morning with Kelsey and Tom Foley at a local shooting range. Now she was sitting on the deck in spite of the cool breeze blowing off the water, occasionally sketching and chatting comfortably with Kelsey. In that moment, she laughed at something Kelsey said, dimples flashing, and the sight warmed Tate.
This was more like the Evan she had first met. Relaxed. Happy. And if there was one thing she wished, it was to be able to ease the pain that too often shadowed her eyes. Tate continued to watch her through the window while she prowled around the kitchen and tried to decide what to make for dinner.
“She’s doing fine, you know,” Jenna said softly as she entered the room. “So much better than anyone has a right to expect, given what she’s been through.”
“I know. But I can’t help it, I’m still worried.” Mostly because she knew sometimes, despite everyone’s best efforts, things didn’t work out the way you wanted them to.
“That’s only natural. If it helps, Kelsey said she was impressed with how Evan handled herself at the shooting range. More importantly, she said Evan managed to impress Sheriff Foley. Apparently he thinks Evan’s a natural.”
Great. Tate wasn’t sure how she was supposed to feel about that. She glanced out the window again only to find Evan looking back at her, an expression both amused and faintly weary on her face. I love you, she mouthed.
“Evan loves Thai food,” she murmured distractedly.
“Pardon?”
Tate smiled wryly at Jenna. “Sorry. I decided on Thai for dinner, but I’m going to have to take a quick run into town to pick up a few things.” Especially since the number at the dinner table kept growing. “In the meantime, you should get Evan to show you—she did an amazing series of sketches of Kelsey. Wait until you see them.”
“I’ll make a point of checking them out. But you know you really shouldn’t be going anywhere by yourself. To say nothing of how Evan will react when she hears about it.”
It was, Tate recognized, more than a suggestion. But along with a flash of temper came the realization Jenna was right. She blew out a frustrated breath. “Actually, I was going to ask Nick to come along, but maybe I’ll take Alex with me as well.”
Just over two hours later, Tate sat outside the cozy home Alex and Nick shared, listening to the lonesome sound of the ferry horn while the stereo played something soft and haunting and perfectly suited to the gray, misty day. As she allowed her mind to wander, it drifted back to thoughts of Evan.
She knew loving Evan was as necessary to her as breathing. Okay, love and unmitigated lust, she thought wryly, feeling the warmth on her face that accompanied some of her thoughts. When all this turmoil with Khalid was behind them, she would take her away for a few days.
Maybe Fiji, where they could enjoy the soothing tropical breezes, where Evan could run barefoot in the sand, and where they could see Orion clearly in the night sky.
Or maybe Ibiza. Truthfully, Tate didn’t really care where.
A slow smile swept across her face, and with images of Evan going native beneath the stars distracting her, she got out of her SUV, idly wondering what was taking Alex and Nick so long. Intent on hurrying them along so she could get back to Evan, she didn’t have a chance to react when a gloved palm covered her mouth and her head was slammed against the side of the vehicle.
*
Evan jumped when she heard a woman’s laugh. For an instant she’d thought it was Tate. But when she spun around with a ready smile, it was one of the deputies who stood there, talking to Tom Foley who had just arrived.
She released a low frustrated groan, felt but ignored Jenna’s keen gaze scanning her face. It wasn’t as though Tate had been gone a long time. It just seemed that way. And though she was probably being foolish, she picked up the phone and tried calling her cell phone.
Tate normally answered on the first ring. But there was no immediate answer, increasing her level of apprehension, and when the call went to voice mail, she hung up without leaving a message. Her breath quickening, she tried dialing Alex’s number. Voice mail.
“Problem?”
Evan met Tom’s gaze. “Tate just seems to have been gone longer than necessary and she’s not answering her phone. It’s probably nothing.”
“She’s with your brother, isn’t she?”
“Alex never remembers to charge the battery on his phone. And Nick refuses to carry one. Says if someone really wants to talk to him, they can find him and talk to him face-to-face.”
“Makes perfect sense to me,” Tom said gruffly, but his cop eyes narrowed. “Where were they going?”
“They went into town to pick up some groceries,” Jenna said. “But they were also planning to stop by Alex and Nick’s house to pick up a couple of things before coming back.”
“Where does your brother live?” Tom asked. His tone was casual. A moment later, he contacted and instructed an unseen deputy to run a quick check. “You’re right. It’s probably nothing, but we might as well make sure.”
People believe what comforts them, Evan thought. But she wasn’t deceived by the sheriff’s nonchalance. A moment later it no longer mattered as Nick’s battered truck pulled into the driveway.
Moving to intercept it, she saw Alex stumble out of the vehicle before it had stopped moving, his face pale, his eyes wide and filled with dread.
“Evan?” His voice sounded uncharacteristically strained, harsh and laced with panic as he faltered. “Tate’s gone.”
Evan’s world tilted. Please, make this a dream.
In the next instant, she caught Alex by the arms and held him until he was steady. “Easy, Alex. Calm down and tell me what’s happened.”
His voice came back to her in a mere whisper of breath and sorrow. “He’s got her. Khalid got Tate.”
Hope shattered as Evan felt the chill of Alex’s words. Releasing a harsh breath, she held on to her brother, vaguely aware of Kelsey and Jenna moving to stand beside her.
“Alex? What’s going on?”
She heard Tom Foley’s question as if from a distance. Knew she was holding Alex’s arm too tight and had to force herself to loosen her grip. Concentrating on Alex helped.
“Take a deep breath, Alex. Nice and slow,” she said softly. “Now tell us what happened.”
Alex tried to comply, she co
uld see that, but it was readily apparent he couldn’t do it. Clearly seeing his partner’s distress, Nick filled the blank spaces.
“We knew Kelsey and Jenna would be going home tomorrow, and Alex didn’t want you and Tate to be alone. He asked if I was okay with staying here until Khalid was dealt with. Of course I said yes, and we decided the best thing was to drop him off at the house to pack some things for us while I went into town with Tate for supplies.” He licked his lips and started to breathe more quickly. “Jesus…”
“Keep going, Nick,” Tom encouraged. “Take your time.”
“Alex was supposed to be waiting for us on the porch, but he wasn’t there when we pulled up. I told Tate he probably got caught up in some painting…he gets distracted sometimes. I said I’d go in and hurry him along while Tate waited.”
He closed his eyes and swallowed. “We weren’t very long, just a few minutes, when we heard what sounded like a car kicking up stones in the driveway. We ran out, but Tate’s Lexus was already gone.” He opened his eyes.
Evan kept her gaze fastened on Nick through sheer will and tried to ignore the sudden dryness in her mouth. “And Tate?”
Nick shook his head.
“By the time we got Nick’s keys and got his truck started, there was no sign of where they could have gone,” Alex murmured. “I’m so sorry, Evan. She shouldn’t have been alone. It’s my fault.”
“No it isn’t.” No, it’s my fault. She looked away, her mind screaming.
“Evan?” Jenna murmured. “You’re not breathing.”
Evan released Alex, fisted her hands, and took a deep breath. Then another. She turned away, could hear Tom speaking on the phone, but couldn’t discern what he was saying. A minute later, she felt him approach. He tilted his head and studied her. And whether military or cop, she recognized the look.
“What is it, Tom?”
“The two boys from the FBI are in town. The fog’s too thick right now, but as soon as it clears enough, they’ll get a chopper up and see if they can spot Tate’s vehicle. In the meantime, they’re going to check some of the campgrounds. I’ve got some of my deputies helping. It’s not a lot, but until we get some reinforcements, it’s all we can do.”