a Touch of Intrigue

by L. j. Charles

  We let go of the kiss and held each other, the power of what we shared holding time, giving us the space to learn about a new depth to our love—until a distant rumble of thunder broke the protective cocoon surrounding us.

  Tynan ran his hands through my hair, separating the curls, freeing the wild mass from my ever-present Scrunchie. “Wanted to touch it the first time I saw you. Like playing with fire.”

  And right on cue, his phone buzzed. “I’m learning to hate your phone. It’s intrusive and rude.”

  “Agreed. Pilot. Switching jet for chopper on the big island in two hours-twenty minutes.”

  I blew out a wobbly sigh. “That puts their arrival at about ten tonight, right?”

  Pierce nodded, clasped my hand, and then headed for the cottage.

  “Guess we better get the soup and make tracks before the next rainstorm breaks.” My words sounded awkward, uncomfortable. Not a place I wanted to be, so I drew in a calming breath. “They’re your parents. I was fine around them in Ireland, so I don’t understand why I’m so nervous about this visit.”

  The sideways glance he gave me was telling. “Seriously?”

  I elbowed him, because seriously, I couldn’t let him get away with that. “Borrowing my favorite words now, are you?”

  “Rolls off the tongue.” Laughter danced in his voice.

  Another elbow to his ribs, this one harder. “I think I’m nervous because they’ll be staying in our home. I’m not good with hostess stuff. Honestly, I haven’t got a clue how to act. Besides, this is different. In Ireland we were in a life or death situation, and I didn’t have time to rev up my anxiety level.”

  He pushed the cottage door open. “My parents love you.”

  “And I love them, but it’s different now that they’re like my in-laws.”

  I chanced a glance at Pierce to see how he took my pronouncement. Red crept up his neck, stained his cheeks. Well, shoot. I’d jumped into a place he wasn’t ready to go. I hurried to fix it. “No big deal. It’s just that our living arrangement is—”

  Kicking the door closed behind us, he grabbed my shoulders. “Traditional marriage isn’t ever going to happen, Everly. Too dangerous. Too many people want me dead.”

  It wasn’t new news, but a horrible chill crawled under my skin. I touched his cheek, and the depth of his concern for my safety slammed into me. “The lack of paperwork doesn’t change our roles or my relationship with your parents. This is all about what’s happening in my head, and with one simple phone call on your part, I became a bride. It’s unnerving. No prep. No ceremony to ease us into our new identities. My heart is happier than it’s ever been, but my head is struggling to catch up.”

  Pierce’s laughter boomed through the cottage. “Hand-fasting. Mo mháthair will see to it.”

  My eyebrows hiked. “And you’re good with that?”

  He kissed me, hard and fast. “Yes. The commitment is already there. The ceremony is…” He shrugged.

  My insides did a whirly-gig, because I had no idea how he meant to finish his thought. “I don’t need a ceremony. We can skip it if—”

  Pierce turned serious. “Bottom line. The rest of my life belongs to you, Everly, but I don’t know shit about ceremonies.”

  My heart swelled with happiness. “And the rest of my life belongs to you.” I thought for a minute. “Sounds like we just wrapped up the vows, no ceremony necessary.”

  “Mo mháthair won’t accept that.”

  Thunder rumbled again, so I hurried toward the kitchen, Pierce close behind. “You’re right about that. Siofra will be all about seeing the ceremony is done right. You’re her favorite son, after all.”

  His grunt was in agreement with me. I reached in the refrigerator and handed him the pot of soup, and scanned the kitchen. “Does anything seem out of place to you? My spidey senses are revving up.”

  In one swift move, Pierce placed the pot on the counter and palmed his Kimber. “Stay.”

  Canine commands triggered something unreasonable in my head, and short-circuited common sense. Pierce did not think of me as his pet poodle, nevertheless, “staying” wasn’t an option. I moved around the kitchen, quickly skimming my fingertips over the appliances, counters, chairs…and the back door. “Pierce” It was a soft yell, but he was beside me in seconds. “House is clear. Find something?”

  Adrenaline pounded, and shivers rippled through me. “Someone was here. A man. Tall, emaciated but with a slight paunch, hard brown eyes, coarse face, heavy brows, silver hair.”

  Tynan shook his head. “Don’t recognize the features.”

  But I did.

  FIFTEEN

  “YOU’RE WHITE, EVERLY. WHAT THE HELL?” Pierce tipped my chin up, and inspected my face. “What else did you see?”

  I reached for the kitchen counter and held on. “I recognized him. Remember the stack of letters I found on my mother’s desk way back when? There was one, sealed, with a slip of paper inside and four numbers written on it. This man was there, rifling through my mother’s things. I must have been away, either at college, or I’d already moved into the townhouse. When I was gone Millie and Harlan didn’t spend much time in my parents’ house, so it would have easy for him to break in and toss Mom’s things.” My knees wobbled, and I tightened my grip on the counter.

  “Are you talking about the envelope you handed off to me? No one had an explanation for the numerical sequence.”

  “Yep, that envelope. I probably didn’t think to tell you that I picked up an image of a man when I touched the envelope. It was before I knew better, and I thought my mother might have had an affair. I didn’t want to spread that around, so I buried the image of him in my mental archives.”

  Tynan’s forehead wrinkled. “Doesn’t make sense he’d leave a code behind”

  “Yeah, it does. The paper inside was so thin that the envelope felt empty. He probably tossed it aside, in a hurry to find something substantial.” I pointed at the door. “I’m almost sure he was in this cottage and touched that door. The only difference between this image and the one from the envelope is that he’s aged. When Mom knew him, his hair was dark brown with a few silver streaks at the temple. I think he was a little older than her, so he’d be in his early sixties now, and that fits. Is there any way your people can find out who he is? A partner, maybe?”

  Pierce shook his head. “No photo, no face recognition. Fred was her handler—”

  “Right. So he’d know if Mom had a partner. Damn it. I hate that we need Fred’s help with this. Should I call him?”

  “Not yet. You up to some more finger work?” His words were stressed, but I didn’t hear a trace of doubt about my ability.

  It boosted my confidence. “Sure, I… Millie probably has some juice in the refrigerator. Let’s put the soup back, I’ll slug down a fortifying beverage, and we can search this cottage.” My stomach clenched. “It’s just hard, trespassing into Millie and Harlan’s life. Not something I would normally do, you know?”

  Pierce exchanged the soup for a container of juice, handed it to me. When he turned to open a cupboard, I stopped him. “No. Don’t touch anything. It’ll be easier for me if the surfaces don’t absorb any new images.” I held up the bottle. “Besides, I don’t need a glass. There isn’t that much left.”

  “Well shit. What the fuck am I supposed to do while you’re…” He wiggled his fingers.

  I licked my lips, contemplating Tynan’s odd outburst. I had a good idea what was going on with him, because I’d often been relegated to the background when we worked together. It was a damn uncomfortable place to be, and it had to be especially so for Pierce, because he took mission-point ninety-nine percent of the time. “Be my backup. Right now, under these circumstances, I need your support. I’m trespassing where I don’t want to be, will see personal things about Millie and Harlan I have no business knowing, but worst of all, I’m slicing open a raw wound about my Mom and the intrigue surrounding her.”

  Facing him, I pressed my palms agai
nst his chest. “Having you stand with me while I do this is just as critical as rescuing me from a kidnapper, disarming someone holding a gun on me, or buffering the space between your parents and me.” I threw the last one in because I wanted him to understand how my oh-shit list was prioritized.

  The tension drained from his shoulders. “Background duty doesn’t sit well. Part of the reason I work alone.”

  I tapped my forehead against his chest. “Not anymore, Sweetie. Consider this the first day of your new life. I mean, seriously, we only exchanged vows a few minutes ago, and it’s slipped your mind already.”

  He swatted my bottom, and none too gently. “Where are we starting, Hot Shot?”

  “Right here. He came in the back door, so I’ll try to trace his movements from the entry point.” I stood in front of the door, closed my eyes and turned on Pierce-vision. “Do you normally see fingerprints, things like that?”

  “Depends. The higher the stakes, the more my amplified vision kicks in.”

  So he knew he had it. And hadn’t seen fit to share with me. Of course he didn’t, Everly. Your man doesn’t talk. I squashed the hurt digging at my gut, and went to work. “I asked because I’m seeing ghost-like figures moving through the rooms.”

  “Not seeing them. You’re on your own.”

  My eyes popped open. “No. I’m not. Get your butt over here and hold my hand. Isn’t there some saying about two being better than one? Maybe we can strengthen our gifts if we work together.”

  He slipped behind me, and wrapped his arms around my waist. “Full body contact?”

  I closed my eyes. Empty room. “I’m not seeing anything, not even the ghost images.”

  Pierce huffed a sigh. “Damn. I liked that plan.”

  My thumb tingled where he’d cut it for our blood sharing. I held up my hand, and wiggled my thumb. “I think it has to be hand-to-hand contact.”

  His pupils dilated. Mine probably did too, because just the memory of that experience set my girl parts on fire. Right on cue, thunder crashed, much closer to the cottage, and effectively dampened my plans to strip us both bare and lay Pierce out on the floor.

  He backed away from me. “Rain’s here.”

  Clouds had covered the sun, darkening the interior of the cottage. I shivered.

  “Cold, Belisama?”

  “No. Creepy. Let’s get this done so we can leave as soon as the rain stops. As it is, we’ll have to walk home in the dark.”

  I grabbed his hand, and closed my eyes. Nothing. So I shook my hand free. Nothing. “I’m not seeing the ghost images. Why? What’s different?”

  Pierce ran his hands over my body, and my nerve endings exploded in joy. And need. Much as I wanted to finish what he’d started, I fumbled for control. “Millie’s kitchen.” I choked the words out, swallowed, tried again. “We cannot have sex here. It would border on blasphemous. This is a milk and cookie kitchen, crammed full of childhood memories.”

  He squinted at me. “Can’t be. You didn’t know it existed until this morning.”

  “Right. But Millie’s kitchen is memory-universal. The location doesn’t matter, her essence fills the damn room.”

  He banged his head against the refrigerator. We’d definitely opened the black hole of male-female communication, but somehow I’d managed to get control of my raging hormones. “Sex later, I promise. Now, help me figure out what’s wrong with our blood connection.”

  His smile was all male. “Lack of orgasms.”

  And the rain chose that moment to pound down, making an unholy amount of noise when it landed on the aluminum helicopter pad.

  I poked Pierce’s his chest. “We’re working, and I’m this close to jumping your bones, so don’t push it. It’d be great to indulge ourselves now, but the after-blast would be a disaster, and my nightmares could ruin our sex life forever.”

  “Shit.” Another head butt against the refrigerator. Then he stared at me, his eyes unfocused. “You’re not grounded.”

  I hated when he was right about something I should have immediately recognized. “Yep. That’s it. Do not mention sex until we get home. I need to focus or we’ll never get this done.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  It took a solid ten minutes of pranayama before I began to see the ghost images again. Staying with them in my mind’s eye, I reached for Tynan’s hand. “Light contact, okay?”

  His touch was gentle, sweet, and easy. Apparently, he’d done some grounding work as well.

  I inhaled, relaxed into my exhalation, and the image became clearer. Thank the goddesses, it was working. “I can see him. Can you?”

  “Looks fuzzy.”

  He’s heading upstairs. Anything I should know before we follow him?”

  “Two bedrooms. Bath. Office.”

  We trailed behind the image, followed him upstairs and into the office.

  “Makes sense this is where he’d search for something about my mother, almost too much sense. Wouldn’t Millie and Harlan hide anything important in a less conspicuous location?”

  “If they were trained by Fred, yes.”

  It was boring watching Ghost Guy search through drawers, and scroll through computer files, and the timing was perfect for me to ask Pierce a burning question. “Were you serious about me working for Fred? It might be a good idea.” It had been nagging me that Fred’s team probably had access to information about my family, and even more important, about Cait’s family.

  “Not sure.” Tynan’s tone should have ended the conversation.

  I ignored it. “I could search his files.”

  “He’d kill you.”

  “Probably not. I think he’d consider my ESP fingers a valuable asset.”

  Pierce nudged my chin, turning me to face him. “All assets are expendable, Everly.”

  Well, that put a serious damper on my potential plans. “Scratch employment with Fred. Don’t you think it’s weird talking like this in front of a guy who can’t hear us? Seems like we should whisper.”

  “Loving you has acclimated me to weird. And you still need training.”

  “Annie, but she’s—”

  “Benched for the next year.”

  I chuckled. “If you try to train me, we’ll end up divorced before your mother plans the hand-fasting.”

  “Not taking that chance. I’ll assign Boulay to you.”

  Anticipation jolted my insides. “Seriously? That would be perfect. We get along well, she’s a good teacher, and doesn’t let me get away with a damn thing. Except…she has her own protection service.”

  “We collaborate.” Pierce pointed toward our ghost guy. “Found something in that drawer.”

  “Move with me. I’m going to try and read over his shoulder.”

  Pierce blinked. “You’re short. He’s tall.”

  “So give me a leg-up.” Sometimes my man had no imagination.

  I stepped into Pierce’s cupped hands, and leaned over ghost guy’s shoulder. “It’s a number of some sort. Damn, he put it in his pocket.” I started to shift position, then he pulled the paper out of his pocket, and stared at it. “Got it. M6342CN.” I gave Pierce a quick lip lock before I regained my footing. “We know what that is. The code number assigned to the cadaver my mother was working on. Remember there was information about it in the files I took from Fion Connor’s car.”

  And then I looked at Pierce. “What?”

  “Classic case. Referred to in—”

  “Spy school?” It was written all over his baffled expression. “You never told me that.”

  Big snort, then he pointed “Better keep up with him.”

  The longer we followed Ghost Guy, the more the image faded. There was nothing else remarkable in the office or the guest bedroom, but the idea of an unused bedroom stopped me cold. “Why would they have a spare room? The number of people who know about this property is minimal, and I can’t imagine Millie welcoming any of them into her home…well, except maybe Aukele.”

  “It’s empty, Belisama.
Cold. Unused.”

  “Yes, but that’s not like Millie. It smells stale. She would never allow that, besides she warms every room just by walking into it. Something is off here, and Ghost Guy didn’t spot it because he’s moved on to their bedroom. At least, I think he did. Or his image has faded to the point I can’t see it. Can you?”

  “No. Want to search this room?”

  I let go of Pierce’s hand, breaking our ESP connection, and then leveled my attention on him. “Yeah, I really do. I’m positive there’s something here, and I’m going to put my fingers to work on finding it. And while I’m doing that, you’re going to update me on whatever that code means. That information wasn’t in Connor’s file, and it might mean something important.”

  “Eyes Only Confidential. Didn’t see the report. They used it as training about spy dust.”

  There was something about that… I dropped to the floor, wound my legs into a half lotus, and closed my eyes. As I relaxed into the place Aukele had opened to free my childhood memories an unusually clear video started playing in my mind.

  Pierce moved behind me. “You okay?”

  I waved my hand in a “hush” motion. “It’s a memory. My mother in this room. Holy, holy shit.” I jumped to my feet, whacking Pierce in the chin with the top of my head.

  He grunted, not happy. “Damn hard head. What did you see?”

  “Sorry.” I kissed his chin. “My mom. One of those things she cached for me to find, it’s here in this room.” I bee-lined for the closet. “Now if I can just…”

  I dipped into my memories, and started to replay the video but it started in a different place. My hands were dressing a doll. It was unnerving watching me from inside myself. But even more weird that I’d had a doll? My adult memory didn’t include dolls. I was a puzzle and outdoor kind of kid. I shrugged it off, and focused on what my mother was doing in the closet. She turned to me. “Come here, Baby. I want you to watch me open this, then we’ll see if you can do it.” She was making it into a game. And, yeah—watching my mom interact with me, the love pouring from her, and knowing the truth about the conspiracy she’d saddled me with—it was too much. I cried.