by Kim Baldwin
“I can think of a nicer way,” Kat said. A soft flush of pink colored her cheeks. Her fingertips resumed their slow, gentle tracings.
Jake smiled and reddened a little herself at the image Kat’s admission evoked. Being kissed awake in your arms. That would be nicer than this. She wondered what Kat was imagining. “Care to share? Tell me what would be better than this,” she drawled impishly.
Kat’s blush deepened, but she didn’t stop her slow caresses. “Maybe when you’re better, I’ll demonstrate,” was all she would volunteer.
“I’ll look forward to that.”
“How are you feeling?” Kat put the palm of her hand on Jake’s forehead, testing for a temperature.
Jake stretched. “Not too bad, really. Stiff and sore. The arm feels pretty good, but my knee still hurts when I try to move it much.”
“Well, it’s time to take your meds. That’ll help.” Kat got Jake into a sitting position and handed her two more pills and a glass of water to take them with.
“Thanks,” Jake said, handing back the glass.
Kat moved to set it back on the table without really looking. She studied Jake’s face. The bruising around her friend’s eyes was better, and in her sleep-tousled state in the soft glow of the bedside light, Jake looked incredible to Kat.
As Kat tried to return the glass to the table, she bumped the wedding ring. It bounced with a thin, high ping! on the concrete floor and rolled to the door. Kat retrieved it, and when she went to set it back on the table, she noticed there was an inscription inside. I knew it. It’s real. Her heart sank. She felt it inappropriate for her to read it. But she had to tell Jake it was there.
“There’s an inscription in the ring, Jake,” Kat said, holding the gold band out toward the woman.
“I know.” Jake took it but set it back on the table, out of the way. “It doesn’t mean anything to me. There’s no clue in it as to who I am.”
“You realize,” Kat said, “that an inscription—and the fact that it’s left such a deep impression on your finger—mean the ring is most likely real. You probably are married.”
“Legally? Maybe. But I don’t feel married.” Jake pushed aside her nagging guilt. “I want you, Kat. I want us. That’s the only thing I trust. It’s where I belong.”
“Good,” Kat answered, the depth of her relief evident in the slight catch in her voice. “Kind of glad to hear that.”
Jake hadn’t realized until just that moment how much Kat had needed reassurance. This vulnerable side of Kat made her even more endearing. “Kat, you must already know that. Don’t you?”
“Well, it’s still kind of hard to believe. I mean, what’s happening...between us.” Kat smiled at Jake. “Kind of nice to hear it’s mutual.”
“Oh, very, very mutual.” Jake confirmed, which made Kat blush again.
“You know, you should eat a little something with that medicine,” Kat said, to change the subject. She cursed the unfamiliar shy streak that seemed to keep her on the edge of embarrassment whenever she was in close proximity to Jake.
“Whatever you say, Doc. I think I can force myself. What’s on the menu?”
“Something fast, and lots of it!” Kat replied, chuckling, already heading for the door.
*
Kat whipped up a batch of clam linguine and set two more TV dinners—fried chicken this time—in the oven for her prisoners.
Although she protested that she really wasn’t all that hungry, Jake ate all of her portion and nearly half of Kat’s.
Kat was happy to give it up, though she was bewildered as to how Jake could put away the quantity of food she did and still look so incredibly tantalizing. Kat found herself staring at Jake’s neck, wanting to kiss the soft, sensitive spot where she knew she could faintly detect the heartbeat just beneath the skin. She wanted to make Jake’s pulse quicken and feel it when it happened.
She was lost in her daydream when she realized Jake had said something to her. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
Jake grinned at her. “I said ‘thank you, that was delicious.’”
“You’re welcome. Glad you enjoyed it.”
“And I said that you had a rather dreamy look in your eyes and I was wondering what you were thinking about.”
Kat opened her mouth to answer. Shut it again. Took a deep breath. “One-track mind, I guess.”
“Meaning?”
“That I was thinking about this,” Kat said, following her impulse and leaning over the bed to kiss Jake softly on the spot she’d been staring at.
Jake inhaled sharply, jolted by the incredible, unexpected sensation. Kat’s lips lightly caressed her neck, the tip of her tongue darting out to taste the delicate flesh. Jake reached up and cupped her hand behind Kat’s head, arching her neck and pressing Kat’s mouth harder against her, encouraging the touch.
As Kat’s oral explorations deepened, Jake’s hand moved of its own accord. It stroked Kat’s neck, shoulders, and back. Jake felt suddenly too warm. Unbelievably aroused. Her injuries were forgotten.
Chapter Thirty-Six
A loud beeping sound brought them both abruptly out of the moment. Jake froze, thinking it was another security alarm.
But Kat just exhaled loudly in exasperation. “Only the stove,” she explained. “Dinner for our guests.” She pulled away from Jake reluctantly and they looked at each other, their mutual desire evident. She stood. “I’ll take care of that and be back in a little while. Would you like something to read to pass the time?”
“Sure,” Jake answered, leaning over to try to better see the books on the shelf under the bedside table. “Whatcha got?”
Kat smiled. “I don’t think those would interest you. What do you like? Mystery? Biography?”
“A mystery sounds good.”
Kat nodded and left. When she did, Jake leaned farther over until she nearly toppled out of bed, determined to read the titles of the books Kat thought she would probably not be interested in. “Ah,” she said aloud when she finally was able to get a good look at them. The titles were all in Greek.
The beeping stopped, and a minute later Kat reappeared with a paperback in her hand. “Try this. It’s set in Isle Royale National Park, just a bit north of here in Lake Superior.”
Jake took the book from her and scanned the cover. A Superior Death, by Nevada Barr. “Thanks,” she said, glancing up at Kat. She looked toward the shelf by the bed. “Greek?”
Kat nodded. She took a deep breath and suddenly seemed to withdraw into herself. There was a sad, faraway look in her eyes. “I was born on Cyprus,” she said. “I’ve lived here—in the States—most of my life. But I guess Greek is still my first language.”
Jake had no idea that she had just learned something that Kat had volunteered only once before. To Evan Garner.
“Do you go back there often?” Jake asked.
Kat wouldn’t look at her, and it was a long moment before she answered.
“No,” she finally replied in a soft voice, as if there was more to say but she would not bring herself to say it. Then Kat sighed and seemed to shake off the memories. “Better go feed our two guests. I won’t be long. Anything else I can get you?”
“No, thanks,” Jake said, her mind still curious about Kat’s mysterious past. Will I ever know you? Will you tell me what it is you’re remembering that brings you so much pain?
*
Kat took the chicken dinners out to the generator room and went through the cautious routine of feeding her prisoners and letting them outside. Frank first again, then Otter. The sky was still overcast, but the snowfall had diminished to a few scattered flakes.
While she watched them—her gun in one hand and a flashlight in the other—her thoughts strayed back to Cyprus and Kyrenia, the fishing village on the northern shore where she’d grown up. She couldn’t go back there now if she wanted to. Even under an assumed name, it wasn’t safe.
“Koproskilo,” she spat, an expletive that literally translated to dog shit b
ut was more the Greek equivalent of bastard. She meant it as a general curse toward all the people who kept her from her home, both past and present. Kyrenia was no longer Greek. Since 1974 it had been part of the so-called Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus, a country recognized by no one but Turkey. To the rest of the world it was occupied Cyprus—the northern portion of the country still under military occupation by tens of thousands of Turkish troops. Turkish settlers now lived in her family home, a large estate outside the village.
It had been a glorious place to grow up. Her father’s fame and celebrity paid for servants and parties and vacations in exotic places. She missed the little walled garden where she’d go to read in the late-afternoon Mediterranean sun. And she’d never seen water the same deep blue as that in Kyrenia harbor. Her father used to take her there to watch the fishing boats.
Father, would you forgive me the things I’ve done? You spent your life preaching conciliation, didn’t you? She pictured him the last time she’d seen him—on the television, speaking before the United Nations. The news stations had run that tape a lot when her father and mother were killed just a week after the speech.
Thousands of her neighbors had fled Kyrenia and other villages in the north, abandoning their homes and belongings to become refugees in the south. They were the lucky ones. Her parents stayed to meet the invading Turkish troops.
Her father was convinced that his diplomatic status would protect them. But he and his wife were murdered in their sleep.
Kat was thousands of miles away at the time, spending the summer after her ninth birthday at an exclusive riding camp in Maine. The woods there were a lot like this, she remembered, her eyes taking in the dense stands of pine and mixed hardwoods about her. It was nothing at all like the terrain of her homeland, with its scattering of mountains and vast groves of lemon trees.
A sound jolted her back to the present. Otter peeing a short distance away.
Kat turned and shined the flashlight on the security panel to punch in the numbers that would open the secret door: 2-3-7-3. “Let’s go,” she said to Otter.
The address of the old estate, thought the assassin watching them through high-powered binoculars. Sentimental one, aren’t you, Katarzyna?
*
Once Kat had tended to the men, she returned to the living room and went to her desk, glancing automatically at the monitors. One was black. She went into the tunnel to remove the jacket she’d thrown over the camera there when Otter was inside the pantry.
Better, she thought, returning to the desk to see all three monitors now operating normally. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed that earlier. She felt relatively safe now that the snowfall had erased all the tracks. But she told herself she still needed to keep an eye on the monitors, especially with Otter and Frank here and part of the security system deliberately disabled. The keypad locks on the doors were still enabled, but she was going in and out of them so often now that she hadn’t turned the alarm system back on. It had been off since Frank had arrived.
She turned on her computer to see whether there were any updates from Kenny. There were two e-mails from him, both short and sweet. The first read: Transportation anytime after tomorrow 6 pm. Need four hours advance notice of rendezvous. The second said: Money transferred. Pickup 9 a.m.
It was midnight. Kat shut down the computer and stretched, yawning. Despite the sleep she’d gotten, she could stand a few hours more. She headed to the bedroom to check on Jake.
Jake was propped up, her back against the headboard. She was so engrossed in the novel she was reading that she didn’t immediately notice Kat standing in the doorway.
But within just a minute or so, she seemed to feel Kat’s eyes on her. She glanced up and smiled. “Hi. How long have you been standing there?”
“Not long,” Kat replied, crossing the room to drop into the chair beside the bed. “Enjoying the book?”
Jake bent the corner of a page to mark her spot and set the book on the table. “Very much. How is...everything?”
“If you mean our guests, they’re fine. No trouble.” Kat reached out a hand and laid it atop Jake’s, which rested beside her on the fleece blanket. “And I’m working on a plan to get us out of here to a safer place where you can get back to 100 percent.”
“As long as I’m with you,” Jake said. “Have I thanked you recently for taking such good care of me?” Her thumb gently caressed Kat’s palm.
Both pairs of eyes fell to their joined hands as Kat began to return the light caresses. The touch was electrifying.
Their eyes met, three feet apart.
Then two feet, as they leaned toward each other. Their intentions obvious, both women smiled slightly just before the final distance was closed and their lips met in a kiss that reflected the growing urgency of the attraction between them.
As their tongues met and their heartbeats accelerated, Kat’s hand came up to Jake’s cheek, stroking it softly, then more firmly. She reached around behind Jake’s neck to pull them closer together.
The kiss deepened and Jake’s hand found its way behind Kat’s back, stroking between Kat’s shoulder blades, pulling, urging her even closer.
Kat complied, her lips briefly breaking contact with Jake’s only so that she could move to sit on the bed. They quickly came together again, mouths meeting hungrily, hands caressing in ever widening exploratory paths.
Jake raked her fingernails lightly across Kat’s broad, softly muscled back. Down to her hip, then along the top of her thigh.
Kat’s fingertips trailed along Jake’s side and found their way beneath her sweatshirt, seeking naked flesh. Each touch edged tantalizingly closer to their areas of greatest pleasure.
*
Otter was dreaming he was back in prison when he was awakened by a loud noise, a cold blast of air, and a bright light in his eyes. The light moved away to shine on Frank’s face.
Frank grumbled until he cracked open his eyes, squinting against the harsh glare, and remembered where he was. Then he grew silent.
A velvet-smooth female voice, an octave higher than Kat’s, addressed the men. “Hi, boys,” it drawled. “Are we having fun yet?”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Frank’s mind worked a beat slower than Otter’s. He was still trying to register that this wasn’t Hunter, when Otter asked, “Who are you?”
The flashlight moved back to Otter. “I’ll ask the questions. Where’s Hunter?”
“Through that door,” Otter said, nodding in that direction. What a break! “Probably won’t be back for a while,” he offered.
The flashlight beam found the steel door and security panel. The woman walked over to it.
Now that the flashlight was out of their eyes, Frank and Otter were able to see the woman clearer in the light provided by the twin bulbs on the generator.
She was short, probably 5’3” or so, but they couldn’t tell much else about her. She was dressed all in black, her head encased in a balaclava. Her body was clad in a one-piece insulated snowsuit that made it hard to judge what her figure might look like under all that padding, but she seemed diminutive.
The two men looked at each other. Otter had a hopeful expression on his face; Frank still seemed in disbelief. Then they looked back at her.
She shined the flashlight all around the room, taking everything in, looking carefully up and down all the walls and in all the corners. “Does she have security cameras?” she asked without looking at them.
“Yeah, there’s one outside that door you just came through,” Otter said. The main entrance was still open and it was getting very cold in the generator room, but the woman seemed not to notice or care. “And there’s one on the other side of that door as well,” he added, indicating the steel door to the tunnel with another nod of his head.
Otter wasn’t absolutely certain of that, of course; he’d been unconscious when he was brought through that door into this room. But he thought it looked just like the steel door he’d seen when
he was inside the tunnel, so he was pretty sure that was all there was to the bunker.
He had the woman’s full attention. She stepped toward him. “What else is on the other side of that door, hmm?”
“A tunnel. It connects this room to the house part. A big room with a bedroom and a bathroom off it. And a pantry,” Otter added, flinching slightly as he recalled the whacks his head had taken.
“Alarm system?”
“Don’t think it’s on if there is one,” Otter said. “I haven’t heard any alarms.” He looked toward Frank for confirmation.
The woman’s eyes followed his, and she too stared at Frank.
Frank shook his head. “Me neither.”
“Anything else?” the woman asked.
“There’s another entrance to the place,” Otter answered. “It goes up out of the tunnel, up to a hatch.”
The woman returned to the security panel.
“Hunter carries a gun. She was wearing it in the back of her jeans,” Otter supplied next. “And there may be someone else in there with her.”
The woman turned to look at him again.
“You working for Garner?” Otter asked her.
“I ask the questions,” she reminded him. “Who’s in there with her?”
“A woman named Scout,” Otter said. “Another bounty hunter. We followed her out here. She may be dead, we don’t know. Or she may be in there.”
“You say you followed this Scout? Explain that,” the woman said.
“Well, her car crashed on a road a few miles from here. We followed some tracks from there to here.”
“What kind of car? How did you find it?” she asked.
“It was a dark sedan,” Otter replied. “I forget the model. We were following a homing device that was in her cell phone. It led us to the crash site.”
The woman turned her attention back to the security panel. “I don’t suppose you’ve managed to see what code she uses to get through this door, have you?”