Code Name: Baby

by Christina Skye

  Kit’s foot slipped and the vase went flying from her hands, along with a heavy encyclopedia from the shelf below. The dogs shot across the room, but before Kit struck anything, Wolfe grabbed the encyclopedia in one hand, parried the vase with his shoulder to send the porcelain flying to a nearby wing chair, and then grabbed Kit.

  She stared up at him and took a ragged breath. “How in the heck did you do that? No one is that fast.”

  “Combat reflexes.” Wolfe dropped the encyclopedia on a table. “Nothing special.”

  He cleared his throat, fighting an urge to kiss the soft, generous mouth that was scowling at him.

  No more fantasies. He had one to last a lifetime.

  “Diesel’s on his way. He was hiding in one of the cages.”

  “Hiding? You mean, from whoever killed Liz?” Kit’s face paled. “Is he hurt?”

  “He appears to be fine.” Wolfe couldn’t tell her more than that. Ryker would want to keep the details secret for as long as possible.

  “Is the killer the person you told me about—the one who is good at disguises?”

  “It’s likely.” Wolfe felt her warm breath touch his neck. His body responded instantly to the thought of how they’d spent most of the night. But his time was up. “I have to go, Kit.”

  “Go where?”

  No more delays.

  Wolfe wiped all emotion from his face, even though he paid a price for the withdrawal. Duty demanded that he go and fight, keeping Cruz busy, far away from Kit.

  Leaving was the way it had to play out. He’d always known that. He just hadn’t expected it to hurt this much.

  “A chopper will be here shortly. I expect Diesel to be on it.” His senses flared at the seduction of her scent—a blend of cinnamon and mango. Maybe Ryker was right after all. Emotional attachments were a soldier’s worst threat.

  He had to remember that.

  She stared at him, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. The motion made his body harden, while his mind whispered that he was turning his back on something very rare that he would never find again.

  Never forget that you’re different. Ryker’s rule echoed in his head.

  “When will you be back? A week? A month?”

  He filled his senses with the warmth of her body, imprinting the memory so he would never forget. “Neither.” And then, silently, he stepped away from her, watching shock fill her eyes. “I told you, Kit. It’s what I do. It’s what I am.”

  “I remember.” Her shoulders straightened. “When you see Trace, tell him to call me. Otherwise I may decide to run his paltry inheritance right into the ground.” She managed a crooked smile. “And thanks for being so good to my dogs. They really do like you.”

  She wasn’t happy and she had probably a million questions, but she was gutting it out. Stubborn and proud as always, Wolfe thought.

  He wanted to kiss her then. He wanted time to see what they could make of this thing they were both feeling. But he could already hear the faint drone of a chopper coming in fast from the south. There would be no place for farewells outside this room. No place for emotion or regrets.

  He touched her hair, just for a second. “I have to go. I wish…” His hand dropped. There was no point in voicing wishes that couldn’t come true.

  The drone of big engines grew louder. “That’s my ride. My bag’s already downstairs.”

  Something shimmered in Kit’s eyes, and Baby whined, tugging at his leg. Smiling, Wolfe bent down and pulled the three dogs into a wiggling, furry huddle. “You guys remember our offensive plays. And take good care of your boss for me.”

  For a moment Kit’s fingers pressed down, tense against his shoulder, and then they were gone.

  Her face was pale but calm when he stood up. “Izzy will stick with you a while longer and his team will be close. We’d like you to stay here another twenty-four hours. Just in case.”

  She started to ask a question, then stopped, nodding. “Okay.”

  “Give these three Einsteins hell.”

  She swallowed. “Sure.”

  “And talk to Izzy.” Wolfe frowned as lights cut across the horizon. “He has some ideas about…your medical situation.”

  Her mouth flattened.

  “Look, it’s clear you have some kind of medical problem. Izzy happens to be a walking Merck’s Manual.” Wolfe cupped her chin. “Talk to him. He’s a straight shooter.”

  “I’ll…consider it.”

  Wolfe nodded, then turned and walked in a straight line to the door without looking back.

  But he would never forget that particular blend of cinnamon and mango, or the pale, strained courage he read on her face.

  GONE, KIT THOUGHT.

  Gone before he had ever really arrived.

  No more fantasies.

  She rubbed the center of her chest, feeling a hot ache and then the first pangs of emptiness. But she wasn’t going to break down or sob, nothing as pointless as that. Her head was high as she followed him downstairs.

  The wind howled and branches struck the roof where a black helicopter hovered low, then set down in the middle of the front yard. Walkie-talkies crackled and men in black uniforms poured out. Kit’s eyes misted as she saw a man jump down, carrying Diesel in his arms.

  The big Lab barked twice, his tail banging in the man’s face while Baby and the other two dogs waited anxiously at the front door.

  The dogs looked up at Wolfe.

  Not at her, Kit thought. How quickly he had won them over.

  “You three had better wait here. Your pal will be inside shortly.”

  Baby barked once, then looked across at Kit as if for confirmation.

  Kit nodded her head. “Stay. Good dogs.”

  Wolfe shouldered his backpack and turned. “I won’t say I’m sorry because I’m not. Last night was the best few hours of my life. I’d be glad to know that you felt the same.”

  Kit swallowed hard, forcing back her tears. “If you’re looking for praise, you’ve got it. You get tens right across the board.” She managed a bittersweet smile. “Not that anyone’s keeping score.”

  He fingered the straps of his pack as if he wanted to be touching something else. “I am. And I won’t be forgetting a single detail.”

  Footsteps hammered up the front steps.

  A mask fell over his face like a wall of steel locking into place. “I don’t like goodbyes, so I’ll just say good luck.” His lips curved. “Champagne and roses, remember?”

  Before Kit could answer, Wolfe’s cell phone rang shrilly. She heard Izzy shout. All hell broke loose outside and the door was jerked open by a man she didn’t know.

  “Sir, we have confirmed apprehension. We need to lift off ASAP.”

  “He’s been taken?” Wolfe’s voice was low, but Kit heard the words clearly.

  “That’s an affirmative, sir. We’ve got him.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Eastern Arizona

  THE WINDOWLESS VAN WAS PARKED in a barren field of dark red earth surrounded by unmarked service vehicles. As Wolfe’s chopper landed, dozens of men in black tactical gear stood at alert, cordoning off the area.

  The skids had barely touched down when Wolfe hit the ground at a run. But he hadn’t gotten twenty yards when his way was blocked by two men with level M-16s. “Code word, zebra four,” he said immediately.

  “Stop right there. Hands high.”

  “Going for my pocket.”

  “Don’t move. Hands high, where we can see them.”

  Wolfe raised his hands slowly. “Badge, upper left pocket. Ryker sent me.”

  “You will hold your position,” the bigger man ordered. “Otherwise we will fire.”

  “Damn it, call Ryker. He’ll vet me.”

  Neither of the men moved.

  “I need to check that van.” Wolfe put out a strong dominance image to back up his words.

  The oldest man shook his head, frowning. “Can’t do that. My orders are to let no one inside the van—not until t
he chief arrives.”

  “I am Commander Houston. Call Ryker to verify my rank and ID, then open that damned van, soldier.”

  The M-16s stayed level.

  Wolfe’s cell phone rang. “I need to answer that.”

  “Negative. You will remain as you are.”

  Wolfe hit the man with another dominance image again, making him reel.

  It wouldn’t take much energy to counter with a full-scale image distortion pattern, but that was going to require a few minutes. There was also the question of witnesses. Ryker wouldn’t want his team’s unique tactical abilities exposed to fifty strangers.

  Which left him only one option—to stand down as ordered. “Ryker is going to have your ass in a sling for this, soldier.”

  The soldier’s face was impassive. No one moved as Wolfe’s phone continued to ring. Over the hills a line of clouds raced along the horizon, churning up dust and dead leaves like a wall of broken promises.

  KIT TURNED off the highway onto the gravel road twenty miles from Santa Fe. The sun had emerged briefly outside the town, but soon vanished behind more clouds, and now rain darkened the distant mountains.

  “Crazy weather.” She looked back at the four dogs crowded together behind her. Since his return via helicopter, Diesel had been accorded royal treatment. Right now Baby was curled up beside him, her head against his neck.

  The smell of rain hung heavy in the air, and the weather befitted Kit’s mood, gray and changeable. The dogs seemed restless, too, their eyes on the road that stretched empty and flat back to Santa Fe.

  At least her Jeep was repaired. Now she had new tires and a spotless new rear windshield. Kit had been surprised when Izzy told her that plans had changed, and she should pack to leave. His only explanation was that the danger was over and they needed to get moving.

  Seeing the hard set to his mouth, Kit gave up probing for more details. Even her questions about Wolfe were flatly countered. Izzy had insisted on hustling her out of the house a few minutes later.

  A man in a suit had arrived via helicopter as they were preparing to leave. Ryker, as Izzy called him, appeared to be giving the orders, but Izzy was unbending. When Ryker reboarded the chopper, he threatened Izzy with arrest if he didn’t accompany him as ordered.

  Izzy gave him a little two-finger salute and respectfully declined, much to the other man’s fury. Something about Izzy’s cool dismissal made Kit suspect that he was a lot higher on the food chain than Ryker or anyone else knew.

  Now Izzy was right behind her, expertly maneuvering a big Ford Explorer with off-road tires and two huge antennae. His moves left no doubt that he’d had evasive and high-speed driving experience.

  Kit prayed they wouldn’t need those skills anytime soon.

  Baby pushed between the seats and barked. Something fell into Kit’s lap. When she looked down, she was stunned to see Wolfe’s worn sweatshirt draped over her legs. “Where did you get this?”

  The puppy bumped Kit’s shoulder, whining.

  “He’s gone, honey.” Kit took a hard breath. “We’ve all got to get over him. Dreaming is pointless.”

  Baby mouthed the sweatshirt, then tossed it up into the air stubbornly, almost as if she was trying to tell Kit something.

  But there was nothing left to say. This movie was over, and it was time to get back to reality. Wolfe had probably forgotten her and the dogs the minute he climbed aboard his chopper.

  When Baby continued to whine, Kit sighed and reached back to scratch her head. “Hey, what kind of response is that? We should be able to stop soon, and then you guys can run around, raising Cain to your hearts’ content. What’s the big problem?”

  A single snowflake danced across the windshield.

  Baby licked Kit’s cheek, then twisted around, staring intently out the back of the Jeep.

  Toward Santa Fe.

  Toward the last spot where they’d seen Wolfe.

  Kit gripped the wheel hard and refused to look back.

  Done was done. No more dreams for her.

  Her cell phone rang. She grabbed her purse and checked the source number.

  Miki.

  “You’re up early.”

  “Couldn’t sleep.” Miki stifled a yawn. “Where are you? Liz called me early looking for you, so I tried your cell phone but you didn’t answer.”

  “Things have been…hectic.” Kit decided not to mention Liz’s death. It would open too many questions, along with emotions that she didn’t want to share via cell phone.

  Kit heard voices on Miki’s end and the sound of music. Sting was crooning his way through “She Walks This Earth.”

  “Coffee stop?”

  “You bet. Double moccacino latte to fuel preparation for a new assignment I just got. Something tells me I’m going to be mainlining caffeine for the next few weeks so I can be ready to leave.”

  “What kind of assignment?”

  “I’ll tell you once the ink’s dry. The contract’s not signed yet, so I’m feeling a little superstitious. But it’s good, Kit. I mean, wow. This could be the break I’ve been hoping for.” Miki’s voice trembled. “I just pray I don’t blow it the way I always do.”

  Kit tried to concentrate on driving, but she heard the uncertainty in her friend’s voice. “Can’t you give me a hint? Have pity here.”

  Kit heard Miki muffle a curse. Then there was a thunderous bang as her cell phone dropped.

  “Miki, are you there?”

  Voices echoed from the other end of the line, followed by loud rustling.

  “Kit, did I lose you?”

  “I’m here. What’s going on, Miki?”

  “Just some jerk in a hurry. He spilled coffee all over me.” Miki sucked in a breath. “Damn, that hurts. Look, I can’t go over the details now, but how about lunch tomorrow and make it my treat?”

  Kit didn’t know where she’d be tomorrow, and she didn’t feel comfortable discussing her situation until things settled down. “Can I call you tonight?”

  Silence. Then Miki sighed. “It’s Wolfe, isn’t it? Something happened.”

  “Nothing’s happened.” Kit suppressed a pang of guilt at lying to her best friend. “But I’m driving now. I should go.”

  “Wait. Let me switch hands.”

  Kit heard more rustling sounds.

  “Okay, that’s better. Jeez, who knew that a moccacino could hurt so bad. My new silk tank top is ruined, too. The jerk.” Miki made an irritated sound. “Where was I—oh, right. Lunch. Call me tonight and let me know. I’ll drive out to the ranch, if you want. I need to talk about some stuff with you.”

  “Are you okay, Miki?”

  “Fine. Great. I’d just like a cooler head for a second opinion.”

  Kit didn’t feel very cool headed at the moment. Since Wolfe had returned, her life felt like a derailed train on a downhill slope. “Sure. Call me tonight. And go put an ice pack on your arm.”

  “Will do. Kiss the doggies for Aunt Miki.” Miki made loud kissing noises, then hung up, laughing.

  Kit frowned, wondering about Miki’s mysterious new project and why she needed advice. But with Miki you never knew what mayhem was brewing.

  A dry mass of tumbleweeds skipped across the road and wedged firmly against her windshield. Frowning, she switched on her wipers, which only scattered twigs all over the glass.

  She flipped on her blinker and pulled over, looking back at the dogs. “Stay.”

  Baby poked her head over the seat. Yipping, she looked at the road behind them, and Kit knew just how she felt, thinking about the man she’d left behind. She wondered if Wolfe was safe or hurt, maybe lying somewhere in a pool of blood. No matter what Izzy said, her instincts told her that the danger wasn’t over yet.

  If it was, Izzy wouldn’t have insisted on riding shotgun for her like this.

  She opened her door and moved around to shove the dry twigs off her windshield. Overhead a shadow darkened the Jeep’s window. Something about the rushing blur of movement made her body tense.r />
  Izzy pulled off the road behind her. His eyes narrowed as he watched the owl. “Why’d you stop?”

  “Tumbleweed. One of our local driving hazards. If I don’t clean these branches off, they’ll break up in more pieces and pretty soon I’ll be flying blind.”

  Flying blind.

  Kit felt a weight in her chest as she remembered Wolfe’s identical choice of words.

  “Pretty isolated place here.” Izzy studied the encircling mountains, ringed with storm clouds. “Some people might call it desolate.”

  “The desert has its own beauty, Mr. Teague. It’s not soft and green but it’s rugged and clean. If you accept that difference, there’s beauty everywhere you turn.”

  Izzy’s brow rose. “Reminds me of a place I know in southern Arizona. And call me Izzy.” He leaned over to help Kit clean the windshield. “We need to get moving.” A faint whine made him look up, frowning. He pulled a pair of binoculars out of his pocket and swept the horizon, then tracked back carefully.

  The sound grew louder, but Kit still couldn’t see anything except storm clouds backing up over the mountains.

  Izzy shoved the binoculars back into his pocket. “Give me your jacket and take mine,” he said tensely. “Do you have any other clothes in your car?”

  “A ‘beauty emergency’ bag that my friend gave me. Makeup and nail polish. Stockings, too. Why?”

  “Get that too, then call the dogs outside. Do you have a gun?” There was something cool and curt in his voice. It was the same sound Kit heard when her brother took a call that summoned him at short notice from leave. The voice meant professional mode, danger imminent.

  “I’ve got my father’s rifle.” Fear pricked at her neck. “It’s in the Jeep.”

  “Get it and bring it out here.” Izzy opened his cell phone, his eyes on the cloud-swept horizon. “Wolfe isn’t answering my calls and I’ve got a bad feeling about that chopper.”

  “What chopper?” Kit caught a breath as a black speck cut through the clouds, headed straight for them. “Who’s that?”

  “I’m not sure, and I’m not staying around to find out.” As he spoke, Izzy pulled out a nasty-looking submachine gun from his SUV along with a tactical vest, which he slid on. Then he tossed Kit his jacket.