a Touch of Intrigue

by L. j. Charles

  When the sentry was well away, I shimmied out of the tree, and stared to work my way around the clearing. Approaching the building from the rear was my only option. If I ran across the clearing, I’d be a moving target. Not good. Even with my limited experience, there was no doubt about that. And the dark would be my friend.

  Dusk had begun its approach while I was treed, so it should be full dark by the time I reached the rear of the building.

  Millie and Harlan, here I come.

  It took me a solid hour to circle the clearing because I had to hunker down and hide whenever the sentries passed.

  When I reached my targeted area, I climbed another tree, invoked Pierce-vision, and peered into the windows. A soft glow came from the far room on the right. I rubbed my sea glass, checked in with my taproot, and Millie and Harlan’s energy signature touched my consciousness. I would recognize those auras anywhere.

  Adrenaline spiked. Almost there. Except that after I got them out I would need to find a way home. I sent out a prayer to the goddesses that one of them could fly a helicopter—and knew where Fred kept the keys.

  “Fat chance.” The words came as a distant echo. Grandma Makani! Not the words I wanted to hear, but it was amazing that I could sense her at all. I loved having her voice in my head, and the sure knowledge that it was a one-time thing made me appreciate it even more.

  The news she’d delivered wasn’t good. I counted the minutes between the passing of sentries while I ate another protein bar, and chased it with a couple gulps of water. Then I tuned into Pierce-vision to check for trip wires or other traps that might not normally be visible. Nothing. Fred wasn’t guarding Millie and Harlan. Which made me suspect that I’d missed something critical, like what if they didn’t want to come home? If Fred’s insinuation was correct, and they’d been working for him a long time, maybe it was by choice.

  I tucked that possibility aside to deal with if it became necessary, and prepped for my approach. Boots laced tight? Check. Go-bag secured? Check. Gun at my waist? Check. Boot knife in place? Check. Hair pulled tight and secured? Check. I listened until the sentry’s footsteps faded, then crouch-ran to the building, and flattened myself against the wall. Drawing on my taproot to listen, I caught the low murmur of Millie and Harlan talking, but didn’t sense the presence of anyone else. Time to make my move. I reached up, knocked on the glass.

  The window slid open and Harlan looked out.

  “What was that?” Millie, sounding hesitant.

  I stood, listening with every sense available to me, then stepped into the light. “Hi, Harlan. Ready to come home?”

  He grinned, motioned Millie forward. “Our baby’s here.”

  Millie’s hands flew to cover her mouth. “What’s happened to you, Child?”

  I probably looked a bit rough. And they definitely sounded happy to see me. I hadn’t realized how scared I’d been that they’d gone with Fred willingly, that they wouldn’t want me to bring them home. “Trek through the underbrush, but I’m good to go. Sentry will be by in couple minutes. Can you make it into the woods after he passes? And can either of you fly that helicopter?”

  They both shook their heads. “We’ll be out as soon as it’s clear.” Was that excitement sparkling in Harlan’s eyes?

  I did a quick scan of my taproot for footsteps. Nothing, so I did a repeat of the crouch-run, slipped into the tree line, and started counting. It took the sentry fifty seconds to make the turn around the corner of the building and come into view. I’d cut it way too close, and a confirming hit of adrenaline zinged my nerves.

  The light in Millie and Harlan’s room went out—my signal to come up with a plan. Muddy trail. Dark as hades. It wasn’t good.

  And neither were the footsteps vibrating through the taproot.

  TWENTY

  COMPLETELY TRUSING MY SENSES, I spun to face the intruder, Smith&Wesson at the ready.

  The footsteps stopped, and a soft British voice drifted toward me. “Nice work, Gray.”

  I blew out a sigh and pocketed my blade. “Damn it, Whitney Boulay you scared the shit out of me.”

  More footsteps, coming from the building. I whirled. Millie and Harlan. She gave me one of her more serious tsk-tsk noises. “That’s not the way we raised you to talk, child.”

  “Stressful circumstances.”

  Whitney choked on a laugh, then asked, “Escape plan?”

  “Keep Millie and Harlan safe, navigate the trail carefully, get the hell out of here.” As plans go, it lacked.

  Millie tugged on my shredded sleeve. “Introductions, Everly, please.”

  Irritation shot through me, but attitude hadn’t been allowed in my childhood, and Millie had always been one step ahead of the polite patrol. Still, I cut it short. Whitney knew stuff, so I figured Millie and Harlan were no surprise to her. I turned to them. “This is Whitney Boulay, a good friend.”

  Whitney nodded at them.

  I pointed to the window. “I need to get in there and touch things, see if I can learn anything and pocket any files that have needed intel.”

  Harlan gripped my forearm. “There’s nothing here. Over time we’ve copied everything and have it safely stored in your home.”

  I zeroed in on him. Truth? There was nothing but honesty in his eyes.

  Whitney must have agreed. “Let’s make tracks.”

  I headed for the trail, but Whitney grabbed my arm. “Chopper would be a bit faster.”

  Hope surged. “Can you fly it?”

  “Yes. I’ll text Pierce to clear the flight, then hot wire it while you strap yourselves in.”

  Creepy warning shivers raced along my spine. This was way too easy. “Does Fred know we’re borrowing his helicopter?”

  “Not if I can help it. At least not until we’re airborne.”

  “But how…” I cut myself off. “Quiet. Sentry coming.”

  We all froze, waiting for him to pass. Whitney touched my shoulder. “Didn’t Pierce tell you I was your backup?”

  Well, hell. “Yeah, but I thought he sent you to Washington, DC.”

  She frowned. “I watched the scenario unfold, then stowed in the bird. Stayed close. That’s what backup does.”

  Anger shoved its way into my voice. “And you let me go through that hell alone?”

  “Field training. It’s a bitch,” she said with a wink.

  We reached the helicopter, waited until we’d timed and calculated every movement around the bird, then we slipped inside, Whitney giving Millie a butt boost. It unsettled me that she needed help. She’d been my rock during childhood, took the place of my parents when they traveled. In my child’s mind, Millie and Harlan stayed the same. It had never registered that they were of an age—my grandparents’ age. As an adult, I hadn’t factored normal life span into my perceptions because Aukele was still lithe, smarter than almost everyone I knew, and looked twenty years younger than his chronological age. My bad. I hated when I missed the obvious, and didn’t plan accordingly. Note to self: when Pierce sends you on a mission, learn the physical and mental strengths of your targets before you leave.

  Whitney turned to us. “Stay down. Once the rotors start I doubt anyone will approach, but they have weapons, and I don’t know how serious Fred is about keeping you here.”

  “He knew about this being a training exercise for me, and is probably planning to rescue me from my inept abilities sometime tomorrow.”

  Whitney nodded. “Hot wiring now. Keep low.”

  The inside of the helicopter was obnoxiously loud, even with a protective headset. But I was listening to my taproot. “Incoming footsteps to the left. Moving fast,” I yelled, reaching for my .380. Not that it would do me any good. Why wasn’t this one of those handy open-door choppers so I could get a clear shot?

  “Hang on.” Whitney’s voice sounded calm through my headset.

  Millie and Harlan were gripping their seats, but otherwise appeared equally calm. If this mission turned out to be something Fred and Pierce cooked up, they’
d better be watching their backsides for a long time to come.

  And then we were airborne. I tucked the .380 into my go-bag, closed my eyes, let go of the taproot, and exhaustion slapped me down. It had been a long day, an even longer night, and I’d used a lot of energy, but at least Millie and Harlan were back where they belonged.

  Sudden quiet roused me. Whitney had landed the confiscated bird on the cottage helipad and shut down the engine. And my deal with Fred was complete, but there were still my guardians to interrogate. I glanced at them when I removed my headset. Both dozing, faces lined with wrinkles. How had I missed that? An uneasy dread built around me. They’d known about the implant, were deeply involved in the intrigue surrounding my childhood. How the hell was I going to interrogate the shit out of them, because that was exactly what I had to do. Or I could just touch them, see if I could get enough intel to skip the rubber hoses and waterboarding.

  Pierce met us on the roof, helped Millie and Harlan out of the chopper, then grabbed me in a fierce hug. “Damn but I love you.”

  My heart soared. “Same goes. But if I find out that you planned that so called training exercise with Fred, you will be in the deepest shit ever.”

  He caught my earlobe in his teeth, tugged on it. “Fred’s not the bad guy. Rough around the edges, but we have an underlying respect for each other.

  Those words didn’t settle well at all, but exhaustion and information overload had numbed my brain, and I wanted to be in peak form before we got into a Fred discussion, and before I talked to and touched Millie and Harlan. I stepped away from Pierce, poked a splotch of mud on his t-shirt. “Shared my mud with you.”

  “First stop, the pool.” Yep, there was lust sparkling in those gorgeous blue eyes.

  He kept a tight hold on my hand when I faced the couple who’d taken such good care of me as a child. “There are so many things for you to explain, and although we urgently need information from you, my head isn’t clear enough to process either the right questions or your answers.”

  I glanced at Pierce. He nodded, and my heart filled with gratitude and love. We’d mastered silent communication, and as screwed up as I was, I cherished the incredibly special bond we shared, one I promised myself I’d always treat with utmost respect, no matter how pissed off I was about his connection to Fred.

  There was so much random information bombarding my head that it took a minute to sift through and eliminate what should be addressed later. I limited myself to a basic suggestion. “How about we take six hours to regroup?”

  Nods all around, except for Whitney.

  She tapped Pierce on the shoulder. “You cleared Fred’s chopper for a round trip?”

  “Yeah.” His tone was equivalent to an eye roll.

  “I’ll be off, then. Don’t want to twist up his knickers.” She tossed a wave at the assembled group, and climbed into the chopper.

  “Why not keep the damn helicopter?” I sounded snarky, but I’d been through a lot and it would make a nice prize.

  Pierce squeezed my shoulder. “Government gets testy when they lose multi-million dollar equipment.”

  Yeah. Whoever Fred’s boss was, they probably wouldn’t let that slip by without chasing me…us down. We hit the access stairway and made our way into the cottage, Millie and Harlan sandwiched between Pierce and me. Protection? Lack of trust? I wasn’t sure, but it was surreal, entering their home with them in tow.

  I began to second-guess my plan to regroup. True, we could safely take a few hours for me get the mud off and for everyone to grab a nap without jeopardizing the welfare of humanity. Unless… “Did you find Ghost Guy?”

  Pierce shot me a glance over Millie and Harlan’s heads, his lips pinched tight, then let out a patented grunt. The one that clearly said, “Later.”

  We all strolled into Millie’s kitchen, and she twirled around like a six-year-old. “It’s so good to be home.” She opened the refrigerator and peered inside, then turned to face me. “You found the soup. Good.”

  Harlan strolled up behind her, and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Let’s send our children home, Mils. We need to get some rest before tomorrow.”

  She leaned her head back, resting against his chest. “I know. It’s just so good to be back in my kitchen. We’re about out of groceries, but I have two dozen eggs, and there’s plenty of sausage in the freezer to make up a breakfast casserole.”

  Straightening, she eyed me with the “mother” look I’d seen so often while growing up. “We were on our way to the store when Fred showed up to collect us. Harlan and I, we’ve always found it best to follow Fred’s plan until we learn what he’s up to. Better to be knowing what he’s about than not.”

  Harlan planted a kiss on the top of Millie’s head. “Let’s be waiting to discuss that until tomorrow. Our girl is lookin’ a might worse for wear.”

  There was a twinkle in his eye, and I suspected he wanted some time alone with Millie after being under Fred-watch for a few days. “Harlan is right. We all need rest before we tackle our next move.” But there was one question burning a hole in my curiosity that I couldn’t hold in a second longer. “Oh, and you should know, Millie, that Pierce’s parents are here. Siofra and Lorcán are staying with us, and she’ll be working on my mother’s formula along with us. I understand that you know the components of it and how to create it. Is that right?”

  Millie paled, and sagged against Harlan. “I do, child, but I do not know the amount of each plant to include. I’ve done many trials since Loyria and James were killed, but none of them have had either lethal or healing capability. I’m grateful for Mrs. Pierce and her help, because this recent encounter with Fred has made it clear he won’t rest until he has complete control of Loyria’s discovery.”

  Pierce secured my hand in a tight grip. “Home. Discussion tomorrow.” My guy’s patience had obviously run out.

  We left with Millie and Harlan’s promise to show up at our house at dawn. It didn’t give us much time to recharge, but the responsibility of destroying the formula forever weighed heavy on me. Pierce handed me a penlight. “To quote you, Belisama, a sprained ankle would suck.”

  I started to ask Pierce about his connection to Fred and Ghost Guy, but he was heads-down over his phone, and typing at a rapid rate. Best to put my question on pause. When he pocketed his phone, I stopped walking and gave him a quick kiss, then backed away before he could respond. “I have mud all over my face, and it tastes crappy so no reason to share. You did place a guard on Millie and Harlan, right?”

  “They’re under surveillance.” He tapped his phone. “I set up alarms if anyone leaves or enters the cottage.”

  Some of my tension eased, but I still held buckets of resentment. “How much of my little adventure did you plan with Fred?”

  His grin was zombie-like in the blue glow of the penlight. “All of it.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  MY RESPONSE WAS AUTOMATIC. I executed a Whitney-move that I’d perfected with multiple months of mat time, and Pierce landed on the ground the breath knocked out of him.

  I stood over him, glaring. “That wasn’t the answer I expected, but it was the one I dreaded.”

  When he managed to suck in a breath, I offered him my hand—not the one holding the penlight.

  He sat, then took my hand. “Love you, Belisama. You’ll be teaching me that move next time we spar.”

  That’s what he thought. It was the one and only move in my arsenal that he hadn’t mastered years before I’d stepped onto a mat for the first time. It was mine, and would stay mine.

  Tynan yanked the penlight from my hand, tossed me over his shoulder, and moved into an easy jog.

  Shit. How come I was the one in trouble when he was the one who’d conspired with the likes of Fred?

  “First, payback is a bitch. And that’s two I owe you. Second, seems I gotta have you over my shoulder to keep your attention. Talking to you, here, Everly so listen up.”

  Talking to me, was he. He had more ’splainin�
� to do than Lucille Ball on her worst day. I held very still, listening with my eyes closed, the way Siofra had taught me that morning. Morning? Damn, but it felt like fifty fricking years ago.

  Pierce pinched my butt. “We agreed you needed field training. I’m the best. Fred’s second., and a fucking genius. Best manipulator I’ve met. That formula is a political hot button, so requires precise and careful manipulation or your life is worth shit. Yeah, I worked with Fred. No question he’s a bastard, but fucking over humanity isn’t his agenda. He can’t stop war or politics, but he can damn well screw with the agenda of the people who can.”

  He’d just spewed more words in a single discussion than ever before. That factoid cued me in to take careful note. I’d heard his words, liked them, even agreed with them, but I wasn’t ready to let go of my anger quite yet. “You could have told me this before I shipped out with Fred.”

  “No. Fieldwork is planned and practiced until it’s second nature, but it happens on the fly. Changes with the wind.”

  Pierce had moved out of the woods and was navigating the maze around our house. The pool water called to me. And I’d heard the truth and sincerity in Tynan’s words. And the love. There was something more there, a question I couldn’t identify, but it wasn’t raising a physical or energetic warning, so I let go of the topic, ready to move on to Ghost Guy.

  “You could put me down now.”

  I got the like-hell-sweet-cheeks grunt. Which probably had a secondary meaning about tossing me in our pool. That worked for me. The caked mud was becoming downright unbearable, and itched like the devil. “I like being clean.”

  Pierce’s laugh echoed through the maze. “Got that, Hot Shot.”

  He picked up his pace, bouncing me uncomfortably as he ran—through the end of the maze, and into the wooded area surrounding our natural pool. He had to slow down because the foliage was thicker, and it gave him time to work his hand between us, free the button on my cargoes, and slide the zipper down.

  I couldn’t reach a thing he wore except the back of his t-shirt, so I yanked it free of his pants. He lowered me to the ground, cradled my cheeks and looked deeply into my eyes for a long moment, then squatted down to untie the laces on my hiking boots. “Gonna want a new pair of these.”