Touch of Betrayal, A

by Charles, L. J

  He looked woozy.

  No, it had to be me. I blinked a few times, but the woozies just got worse.

  “Ya-oou dru-ug…ma-eee…”

  SIX

  I breathed in, filling my lungs with the fragrant, spicy air—warm and soft with a touch of the tropics. Whoa. Warm? Soft? Not recycled airplane molecules. Hawaii. Even groggy, I recognized the one place on the planet where I usually felt at home. For a nanosecond my heart swelled with happy vibes, but the highway noise and vibration of tires racing on pavement brought me back to reality.

  My eyes snapped open. Back seat of an open Jeep. Blanket covering me. Pierce driving. I’d recognize that head of dark hair anywhere.

  He hit the gas, and we shot through what must have been an intersection. Couldn’t keep my eyes open. Anger zipped through me. And maybe panic. Hard to tell with a minimum of brain cells working. I shifted and the wind caught the blanket, lifting it.

  “You awake, Belisama?” He sounded worried, not Pierce-like at all.

  I grappled for coherent thought. A bottle of water was stuck in a webbed pocket behind the front seats. I grabbed it, levered up to my elbow, and drank. Warm water washed away the taste of…oh, holy Mamma Mia, Pierce had drugged me. I lurched up, fumbling for something to hang on to, and caught the back of the front passenger seat. “You. Drugged. Me. How could you?” My righteous indignation sounded weak and rusty.

  He met my gaze in the rear view mirror, eyebrows arched. “Not me.”

  The synapses in my brain must have all fired at once ’cause I was hit with the mother of a headache. “Ouch. Damn it.” I slugged down some more water. It landed with an uneasy thud in the pit of my stomach. “Seriously? You’re going to deny it when you were the only person around other than the nameless pilot? And a whacked-out me wouldn’t be getting into things you’d rather keep private. Besides, we were on a private jet. What happened to it? How long have I been out? And what the hell kind of drug did you use? It sucks on the aftertaste.”

  My inner bitch had found her power and was contemplating various methods of homicide.

  Pierce tossed a bottle of aspirin over the seat. “I’ll pull through the next McDonalds for some fries and a Diet Coke.”

  “Huh?” I struggled with the cap on the aspirin. “Now you want to fix me? You’re confusing, Pierce. I want real food and the old lady kind of lids on my pain meds. This childproof thing is too complicated. And why aren’t you answering my questions?”

  Pierce met my gaze again, forehead wrinkled. “Fries and Coke, best thing for a hangover.”

  “Oh? I’ve never had a hangover, and this definitely isn’t one, so how about we move on to, say, Zippy’s for some Hawaiian stew. Do you think solid food will loosen your vocal cords enough to actually talk to me?”

  Not that I expected Tynan Pierce to talk, but if I badgered him enough, he wouldn’t notice that my head was working overtime on an escape plan. My brain cells had kicked in and decided Zippy’s would work well as a diversion. The diner-type restaurants were usually in populated areas, and I’d be able to escape from this new, definitely not improved, psychotic version of Tynan Pierce. Preferably before he did worse than drug me. But I had to get my feet under me, and all brain cells at full capacity before I tried to outsmart Mr. Superspy.

  Or I could try trusting him. The three of them, Annie, Adam—yeah, and Pierce—had always been there for me.

  I took stock of the situation: no shoes, clothes too warm, too wrinkled, and much too smelly to keep wearing. My nausea was fading, headache pounding, and hunger was persistently requesting food. But mostly I needed a…there tucked under the front passenger seat. I reached for my handbag. It was nice of Pierce to stash it nearby, considering. Now if he hadn’t swiped my cell, I’d be in good shape. I could call someone. Except there wasn’t anyone but Annie, and she’d been friends with Pierce long before she met me. A taxi, then? A hotel?

  My sneakers were on top of the handbag. I wiggled into them, double knotting the laces. At least now I could run without wearing holes in my feet. I peered into my bag, panic rocketing through me until I spotted my phone, but when I clicked it on? Nothing. The battery was dead, and my charger was one large ocean and an entire continent away. That’d have to be fixed right away. First thing after I escaped; buy a new charger cable.

  I tugged my iPad free and checked for emails from Mitch and Annie. Nothing. And there wasn’t a wireless connection available in the Jeep. Not surprising, and it probably meant that my desperate attempt at communication hadn’t hit the ethers yet. I’d have to get my cell account attached to the iPad now that I was back into business chasing bad guys—even if Pierce didn’t have my back. Or did he? How could I trust a man who wouldn’t communicate? Who kidnapped me without an explanation? Who’d always been there, and even taught me to pick locks? Damn, but I hated not knowing what was real and what was super-spy gobbledy gook.

  The Jeep slowed, and the familiar scent of burgers and fries assaulted my nose, triggering a wave of nausea. Maybe I wasn’t all that ready to eat.

  Pierce chatted up the squawk box, paid, and collected a small bag and huge soda before I could figure out how to pantomime I was in trouble. Probably not a big loss since the teenager at the window didn’t even glance in the back seat, and she looked like she’d had a worse night than I had. Hard to tell with three piercings in her upper lip.

  Pierce handed back the fries and drink. “Eat the fries. You’ll feel better, and I need you alert by the time we get to Straub.”

  Straub Hospital. Millie. Memories jolted into place. I peeled the paper off my straw, stuck it in the appropriate slot, and drank. It took both hands to hold the extra-large plastic cup. Guess Pierce figured I was in dire need of caffeine and bubbles. And he’d been right. My stomach quieted almost instantly. Better. Much better. Or maybe it was just that the aspirin had started to work.

  Questions niggled in the back of my mind as my brain soaked up the caffeine. “Have you talked to the burn unit? Is Millie okay?”

  “Want to keep this visit quiet.” He’d slowed the Jeep, waiting to merge into traffic, and shot me a sideways look. Assessing. “You look like hell.”

  I smiled. Sweetly, I hoped. “And how exactly does hell look?” I knew better than to check out the situation in a mirror. Too scary. “Maybe it would help if you told me what drug you used on me. So I could work on healing myself.”

  Oh, holy Mamma Mia. Where had that come from? Could I heal myself? I shoved the thought away, because now wasn’t the time to be sidetracked.

  He gave me a single, arched eyebrow that clearly emphasized his innocence. “You can detour through a restroom before we hit the burn unit.”

  Giddy anticipation helped to chase the rest of the drug from my veins. Or maybe it was the French fries. Whatever, the ladies room would give me enough privacy to do…something. So what if I had a dead cell phone. There were other ways to communicate my situation. Maybe I’d have a chance to hand someone a note, or…

  “Not gonna work, Belisama.”

  “What?” I tried for innocence, but it came out part snark and part breathy gasp. I sucked at innocence.

  Pierce shook his head. “How about you tell me what you ate that could have been drugged?”

  I suppressed an eye roll. “How about the Diet Coke you so graciously popped the lid on before you left the galley?”

  A glance in the rear view mirror confirmed my suspicion. His jaw was clenched so tightly I should’ve been able to hear his teeth grind. “Pisses me off that you think I drugged you.”

  He merged onto the highway, speeding up, and my hair immediately blew into a tangled mess. Blindly, I groped in my bag for an elastic band to tame it before the knots got so bad I’d have to shave my head. “Yeah, well, it pisses me off that you kidnapped me.”

  Pierce’s shoulders lifted in a tight shrug. “Needed to get to the plane, and there wasn’t time to dance around with explanations. Figured finding Millie and Harlan would be top priority fo
r you. Acted on it.”

  He was right about that, but I wasn’t ready to cut him any slack. Trusting him could be a mistake. Not trusting him might be an even bigger mistake. The man had leprechaun genes which made trust issues an impossible conundrum. It was probably time to change the subject. Maybe I could get some information out of him. “Tell me about the female spy we found on my property.”

  He white-knuckled the steering wheel. “She did some work for me. Personal favor. Ended up flipping sides and took the politically correct road.”

  Heat flared across my neck, into my face. “You had someone working on my property? Without telling me?”

  “Just respecting your married privacy.” Bitterness edged his voice, so subtle I almost missed it.

  I knew Pierce cared about me, but not like that. It wasn’t like there’d been anything between us that would spark regret, or jealousy. Lust, maybe. Friendship for sure, but… “Cop-out. You know me better than that. What was she doing? And more importantly, why?”

  He wet his lips, and then did a quick glance in the mirror. “Her task was to move Millie and Harlan to a safe house.”

  “But?”

  “She didn’t.” His words were more clipped than usual, and that was saying something for Pierce.

  I scrunched my face, hoping it would push puzzle pieces into place. “Does this situation have anything to do with why you quit your job?”

  “About ten minutes to Straub. Your fingers ready?”

  Ignoring my question by asking one of his own was the same as a resounding yes for Pierce. Maybe. Possibly. The puzzle piece fit, so I went with it. I was nowhere near ready to see Millie hurt and in a hospital bed, and never would be. Illness and injury brought back the pain of losing my parents, but I pushed my apprehension aside. There was no room for running away, not when there was the possibility my new healing gifts could help Millie. I was almost positive they only worked on someone who’d been poisoned with the toxic plant substance my mother discovered, but I hadn’t tested that theory. This was a perfect opportunity. Relief pounded through me. It would be so much easier to face Millie if I could help her.

  Pierce grunted, cutting into my thoughts. “Fingers? Ready?”

  “They’re always on. Or mostly. I’ve gotten good at filtering over the past year.”

  “Bet that contributed to marital bliss.” Again with the hint of bitterness in his voice.

  A frown tugged my lips down. The snarky comments from Pierce were more than irritating, but now wasn’t the time to discuss it. I moved on to the important stuff. “I’m not comfortable touching Millie without her permission. She’s awake, right?”

  “She wasn’t when I last checked in.” Curt. Impatient. “If she could talk to me, I wouldn’t need your gift.”

  She wasn’t awake? An overwhelming knot of sadness burst in my chest.

  I hadn’t really accepted that Millie had been hurt that badly. I’d been away from the spy game long enough that Mitch-induced protectiveness had run roughshod and diluted my spidey senses. I spent a few minutes nourishing my curiosity, building it back to normal frequency. It wasn’t too difficult, considering the events of the past day and a half, or so. “When is it?”

  Pierce understood what I didn’t say. “Next day. Hawaii time.”

  I’d been unconscious for the remainder of the flight, and while Pierce moved me from the plane to the Jeep. I used my fingers to count. “We left around one in the afternoon Raleigh time, which was seven in the morning Hawaii time. Then we were airborne for ten hours, so it should be evening here, but it’s morning. Care to explain?”

  “We landed in San Francisco, had you looked at.”

  I shivered, and not from cold. There wasn’t anything I hated more than being out of control, and all this had gone on while I was unconscious. Just like when I had the gunshot wound. With Pierce in control. Damn, but that was disturbing. My stomach did another pitch and roil. “San Francisco? Did you take me to a doctor?”

  He eyed me in the rear view mirror. “Friend of mine—medic—came to the plane. Hooked you up to an IV, stabilized you.”

  “Holy Mamma Mia. You’re saying I was, what, on the brink of death?”

  “Not the brink.” He grinned, showing off a row of textbook-perfect white teeth. “Close enough that I didn’t want to take any chances.”

  He cared, in a strange Pierce sort of way. My jaw relaxed for the first time since he’d kidnapped me. Except for when I was unconscious, of course. “Guess you really need my fingers, huh?”

  His lips quirked in a half-smile. “Something like that.”

  “I didn’t think knock-out drugs fell into the fatal category.”

  No words, just a cool stare and single raised eyebrow.

  We were obviously done with that stimulating topic of conversation, so I moved on. “Any update on Millie?”

  “They’re keeping her sedated.” He kept his eyes on the traffic pattern. Probably a good thing since cars were buzzing all around us.

  “It seems wrong to steal information from Millie.” Something was way off about this whole situation, so I kept searching for the key—one question at a time.

  “Your head’s screwed up. Her life, Harlan’s and your grandfather’s depend on this. What the hell kind of drug did you take?”

  Anger slapped me in the gut. “Nothing. I didn’t take anything. Why are we back to that, anyway?”

  The topic yanked my curiosity into high gear. It had to have been Pierce who drugged me…or maybe not. “Wait. I, um, there was a handful of chocolate truffles in Miz Stalker’s duffle. You know the kind with the foil wrapping? I helped myself to a couple ’cause they’re one of my favorites. The mint ones.”

  Pierce veered over two lanes of traffic and screeched to a stop on the side of the road. He turned to face me, his blue eyes burning with anger. “In her duffle?” The words were a staccato shout that disappeared in the muffled roar of fast-moving traffic.

  I nodded, fear creeping over my skin. Had Miz Stalker planned to drug someone? Like Millie or Harlan? Both of them?

  Pierce jerked his phone from his front pocket and punched in numbers. “Foil-wrapped chocolates in the duffle. Bedroom closet. Get them to the lab.”

  So maybe Pierce hadn’t drugged me. An apology got wadded up in my head and stuck in my throat. He’d still kidnapped me. I freed the bottle of water from the webbed seat pocket, and took a few gulps, successfully washing down my apology. I’d get to it, but not until he shared a lot more information about what was going down. Trust had to be two-way street, and Tynan Pierce had only shared one personal thing with me in the two years we’d been friends. One. Thing. It wasn’t enough.

  He merged back onto H1. “This is how we’re going to play it. We take the back stairs to the burn unit. Cover up in paper suits and masks. I’ll talk. You touch.”

  I nibbled on a French fry. I was good to go with his plan, ’cause I wanted to check on Millie and get whatever images she could share. But after that… I washed the last fry down with a swallow of Diet Coke, tied my shoes, and then slipped my handbag over my shoulder cross-body style. Even if he didn’t drug me, the handbag with my everyday essentials—lock picks, phone, and toothbrush—was staying with me no matter what Tynan Pierce did.

  He parked in the Straub garage, and handed me out of the Jeep. I wanted to refuse his help, to stand on my own, but my leg muscles were decidedly lacking in elasticity. He kept his hand at the small of my back as we entered the hospital complex, guiding me. I made the mistake of sucking in a breath, and gagged on the antiseptic-laden recycled air. Dumb. I knew to take shallow breaths in a hospital. Spotting a restroom, I pointed. “How about we stop here?”

  Ten minutes later I’d used the facilities, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and tamed my hair into a tidy ponytail. There wasn’t anything I could do about my clothes, or the smell from sweating through my drug-induced coma. Who knew drugged sweat smelled so bad?

  We made our way upstairs without any inco
nvenient surprises, wrapped up in paper gowns, caps, and booties, and then worked our hands into disposable gloves, all according to the directions posted in the anteroom of the burn unit. I kept my handbag tight to my side under the gown.

  “Do you know which bed she’s in?” My voice trembled. It was the first time either of us had spoken since I finished my cleanup in the ladies room, and the tremor surprised me. No warning signals were exploding in my mind, no neck pricklies. Nothing to warrant trembling words.

  “End of the hall, left side. The nurse’ll take us to her. Nobody goes in unsupervised.”

  Okay, then. Cryptic as usual.

  Pierce did some fast-talking with the nurse while I followed a few paces behind them.

  Smiling, the nurse lifted a corner of the curtain surrounding Millie’s cubicle. “Ten minutes.”

  I inhaled a shaky breath, and slipped through the opening.

  Empty bed. No one in sight.

  SEVEN

  My stomach plummeted. No body. Had they moved her and not told the nurse who’d fast-walked Pierce and me to Millie’s cubicle? I reached around the curtain for Pierce, needing reassurance that he hadn’t deserted me. My fingers closed over his hand. Odd. There were no images. Not even faint ones nudging into the back of my mind. I tabled the anomaly for later consideration.

  I couldn’t lose Millie. Not when I’d so recently lost the grandmother who named me, the woman my parents kept hidden and who I’d never had a chance to meet. The unfairness of it still ticked me off, and left a bitter place in my heart.

  “Pierce.” I yanked on his hand. “She’s not here.” My words were a desperate whisper sharpening the still air of the burn unit.

  He whipped the curtain back, scanning the cubicle and the empty hospital bed. “What the fuck?”

  Shaking free of my hold, he strode toward the nurse’s station, leaving me in stunned silence. I focused on the bed. I’d only have a minute or so to touch things before the charge nurse took over and threw us out.