“Who?”
“Oh God.” Emily dropped down to sit on the end table, as her hands reached up to cover her face.
“As Ben so wisely pointed out, the Hyperion was something I had mocked up at home and simply tweaked during my off hours at work.”
“Ben?” Brian mouthed and sought Emily’s gaze. She eluded it.
“Yes, yes, I know.” The lanky man continued to chatter with the pillow that had tufts of yarn erupting from its four corners. “Friggin Big Brother was watching me. I saw the cameras. They wanted that design—they stole it!”
“Whoa. Just hold on now.” Assimilating this, Brian began to feel the pain throb behind his eye. He wanted to sit down—actually, sink was more like it. But that would give too much of an advantage to the happy little couple, and he didn’t trust them.
Besides, Ben was taking up the couch. “Alright, who is Ben?”
“Franklin. Geeze, you’ve heard of Ben Franklin, haven’t you? I knew those NMD guys weren’t too intelligent.”
Brian lifted his gaze to seek out Emily’s. When he met it there was a silent challenge in the sea of turquoise.
“Yes, I’ve heard of Benjamin Franklin.” He looked at the empty chair. “I just didn’t realize he had risen from the dead and moved to Lake George, and now happens to be invisible. Must have been a bad lightning experiment.”
Colin made a strangled sound and resumed his pacing, hesitating at intervals to scratch his ear.
What the hell have I gotten myself into? Brian thought as he wrenched his gaze from the lumbering engineer and landed on the curve of Emily’s thigh. In worn jeans she was a drastic change from the sophisticated creature in the hospital. But this Emily—the one in rumpled attire, the one with her cinnamon hair messed from the wind—this Emily was damn sexy.
“Leave him alone.” Her soft lips thinned.
“Who, Ben?”
“No, Colin.”
Ahh, the protective spouse. How quaint. What was a woman like Emily doing with an eccentric, overgrown kid and a dead philanthropist?
Now the pain felt as though his forehead had been cracked open and acid dripped freely into the crevice. Brian caved in and raised his hand over the throbbing laceration.
“Do you want aspirin?”
“No.” He barked at the offer.
Then the sound of her voice sunk in. With his hand over his face, impairing his vision, that soft voice reached Brian, and with it came the haunting recollection of his angel in white.
Are you all right?
He dropped his palm and stared at her.
There. He heard it again. Just like in the hospital. That kinetic sound, as if a swarm of bees encircled his head. She seemed equally transfixed, caught by his stare with her lips parted on a breath. So soft were those peach-glossed lips, God help him, at the time he wanted to touch them with his own and capture that specter.
“Look,” Brian wrenched from the recollection. “The bottom line is that I’m bringing you both back. I don’t need to hear any of the excuses that you contrived, I just need to produce you in front of Barracuda and then my job is complete.”
“It’s so simple isn’t it?” Emily observed with disdain.
“Yes.”
“Okay, I’ll go.” Colin stepped between them.
Brian’s head snapped back, having forgotten there was anyone else in the room. “It wasn’t up for debate.”
“I’ll go and you’ll let Emily free.”
“Not a chance.”
“She was just acting on my behalf. I’m the one they want. Who’s to say everything was on that pen drive anyway? There may be more in here.” He tapped his tawny hair with the licorice stick.
“There may be.” Brian conceded.
“Are you going to kill us then?”
For a moment Emily nearly felt sorry for Brian. The astonished look on his face almost softened the sharp planes of his nose and jaw. She had never realized how dark his features were. His hair was nearly black and his eyes were the warm shade of bourbon that glowed in a snifter with the backlight of a fireplace. That hard jaw was shadowed with stubble, no doubt due to his immediate chase after her, and the discoloration of a fading bruise spanned one sharp cheekbone.
Her brother, in contrast looked fair, with pale skin, dirty blond hair and blue eyes to match hers. He reached Brian’s height, but it was a lanky stature, not solid like the man that was now regrouping and pushing out the words, “Christ, no I’m not going to kill you!”
Brian rubbed the sallow spot on his cheek. “Look, you and Emily committed a crime. Fortunately NMD has chosen to keep this within their jurisdiction. They haven’t contacted the police—yet.”
“Th—then, why did they rig my Volkswagen?”
“Rig your—” Brian finally restored the gun to the spot nestled at the base of his spine and her glance lingered there for a second. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said.
“That’s true, Colin.” Emily rose and placed a soothing hand on her brother’s shoulder. “He couldn’t have tampered with the car, he was in the hospital.”
Sinking onto the arm of the arm of the couch, she explained, “Someone tampered with Colin’s brakes.”
“Oh, come on. We’re talking about a government-funded facility here, not a bunch of heavies with a contract. Let’s not get dramatic. You got caught and now you want to skirt the issue.”
“In fact,” Emily inserted coolly, “your government-funded facility did tamper with Colin’s car, amongst other things.”
Brian turned his back on them and approached the sliding glass door. She noticed him hesitate and glance at the empty armchair.
“How did you find us?” Colin asked the reflection in the glass.
Emily looked past him to see what had him engrossed. Under the glow of the outside light the deck was mottled with snow and leaves. Beneath a tarp, heavy with pooling ice, sat the hulking contour of their old table and chairs. A gas grill beneath the same camouflage suffered the fate of erosion and the ring of rust around the propane barrel marked this year’s highest snowline.
“I traced her phone.” Brian said quietly.
“Dammit, Em!”
“Don’t you dammit me, Colin Brennan. I knew this was a mistake from the beginning. We should have gone to someone, someone outside of NMD. We could have explained the situation. But no—everyone was the enemy.”
Ignoring her tirade, Colin spoke to Brian. “But how could you trace it? How did you know the number?”
Emily looked at Brian’s back, awaiting his reply. His shoulders were broad, with hardened muscles that bunched beneath the black sweater and even now twitched as if they felt the touch of her eyes. That restrained power caused a bout of queasiness in her stomach. To think that she had nurtured that power, nurtured her adversary back enough to return to stalk her.
“Dr. McCarter?”
Brian nodded without turning around, but she had no doubt he had both of them captured in the reflection.
“Who’s Dr. McCarter?” Colin’s voice crept up an octave.
“So, no one else knows where we are?” She disregarded her brother.
Brian revolved completely and crossed his arms to regard her. “What are you going to do Angel, overpower me and run again?”
“Damn right, she’s going to do that.” Colin grumbled, “and she doesn’t take too kindly to the patronizing title either.”
The sharp staccato of Brian’s cell phone shocked the group. Yanking the slim device from his back pocket, he snapped it open with a curse. “Morrison.”
“Morrison, it’s Barcuda. What’s your status?”
It was unusual—no, astonishing for the George C. Barcuda to make calls to the field. Given the gaps in memory, Brian’s knowledge of the mission was as porous as a slice of Swiss cheese, a deficit that made him edgy. His brain contained a bevy of knowledge, a virtual database that challenged most military catalogs, but to hear that Barracuda was on the other end meant
that he was in dire need of the additional details. This case was a big deal to NMD.
Brian’s response was controlled, but he was alert to the subtle nuances of Barracuda’s voice. “I’m in Lake George.”
“Did you find them?”
In the background, Tony Bennett quietly crooned about San Francisco. Barracuda was in his car. It was the only place he indulged in the arts.
There was a split-second hesitation as Brian surprised himself by answering. “No.”
“Dammit,” Barcuda cursed, “Pulkowski said you had a lead. Do I need to send someone else up there?”
With his acclaimed history and connections in Naval intelligence, Brian could not be intimidated by the likes of George C. Barcuda, and that fact really pissed Barcuda off.
Brian cleared his throat. “If you think I can’t handle it. I’m sure your henchmen would fit right in here. A group of heavies in black trench coats and sunglasses would never draw attention, or put the two engineers on alert.”
With a quick snap, Tony Bennett was muted. A faint whistle sounded as Barcuda drew a deep breath through pinched nasal passages. “Don’t muck this up, Morrison. I need the material those traitors stole.”
“If you thought it was valuable, why didn’t you have your own backup of his data? I thought NMD had copies of the contents of every hard drive. I thought external drives were not allowed on the premises. ”
“They’re not. This kid is shifty. Not to be trusted. Do what you have to, but don’t trust him. You’ve got twenty-four hours to produce the engineers or you’re off the case. You already fucked up once. Yes, I know about the accident. I’m giving you twenty four hours out of respect for your track record, but that’s all ancient history as far as I’m concerned. I’m only concerned with what you can do for me now.”
Barcuda had not hired him. That was the underlying issue. NMD had recruited Brian directly from the Navy when he had made it clear his role as an intelligence agent abroad was over. He was thirty eight years old, and the events in Somalia aged him far beyond that count. If he was to have any hope of a normal life he needed to make some drastic moves, and NMD seemed the necessary switch towards stability. It represented a staid career, and that was what Brian longed for.
“I’ll be in touch.” Brian’s tone was hard as he terminated the connection.
Staring at the snow on the back deck, he wasn’t ready to turn around and deal with the couple yet, but he could feel their eyes boring through his back.
Beneath the arc of the porch light, flurries wafted like cluster of diamonds, disintegrating into a brilliant dust that clung to the railing. Beyond the circumference of the exterior bulb, not even the night could be found outside the stockade of pine trees. If it were not for Emily’s cell phone would he have ever found them in this ridiculously remote outpost?
“Brian?”
Brian closed his eyes. Even now, when her soft voice whispered his name it made him ache for something that was unattainable. He could hear that gentle pitch beckoning him from unconsciousness into benevolent radiance.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.” She said.
That was not what he expected. Brian turned and tried to gauge the expression on Emily’s face. She stood with her fingers jammed into the back pockets of her jeans. He met her eyes and there was the familiar compassion there, though it battled with darker shades of anxiety and resentment.
“What are you thanking me for?”
She chewed her bottom lip and then thrust forward her chin. “I don’t know who you were talking to, but I know it was about us—and—well, you made it sound like you haven’t found us yet.” Her hands came out of her pockets. “Why?”
Couldn’t she have posed an easier question?
To conceal the fact that he had no comeback, Brian switched his focus onto the long-limbed man watching him from beneath lowered eyelids. Caught in the act, the gaze shifted.
Colin folded his arms. “You aren’t following the rules, are you Mr. Morrison?”
The last thing Brian wanted was to answer for his actions to a cocky engineer with a pension for talking to dead people. “I makethe rules.”
The eyes returned to study him—this time, boldly. Brian found that stare disturbing, as if he was being dissected and examined by an alien force. He rubbed his ribs and flinched when the redwood clock above the mantle chimed midnight.
“Look, it’s getting late.” He said, “The roads are bad, and I’m not about to tempt the fates twice. Next time there might not be someone looking over me.”
Emily’s cheeks glowed in the wake of the fire. “It’s not going to make a difference whether you bring us in tonight or tomorrow.” She reminded. “Why don’t you at least rest for now?”
He rested his shoulder inside the frame of the sliding glass door and shook his head. “You’ll try to escape—that much is a given.” A hand rose to halt her protest. “I’ll be right back. I have to take care of your cars.”
Brian looked at Colin who now dropped gracelessly on the third step of the staircase. “Your Volkswagen—I take it that’s the one up the road under the trees.”
With a smirk, Colin shook his head. “Guess I wasn’t as tricky as I thought.”
Brian hooked his thumb at the chair. “And him, where’s the coach parked?”
Emily would have expected the comment to set Colin off, but his head tipped back and he emitted a hearty laugh. He nodded towards the small throw pillow and grinned.
“Ben thinks you’re a hoot, but he pointed out that a coach wouldn’t make it through this snow. He came here on foot.”
“I imagine he did.” Brian reached for the sliding glass door. His other hand swept his lower back with an implicating threat. “I trust neither of you will go anywhere. If you do, I’ll catch up with you, and well—you’ll just have managed to piss me off.”
Edgy, Emily stared at the gun at the base of his spine. She folded her arms, trying to appear poised. “There’s nowhere for us to go.” Instead of controlled, it sounded desperate.
Brian wavered. “Let’s get this straight. I won’t shoot either of you, but I will do what I have to to stop you.”
He waited, swapping his attention from one pensive face to the other until finally Colin’s curt nod satisfied him.
“Ten minutes. I’ll know if either of you leave this cabin, so let’s save everyone the hassle.” With the door wrenched open, the frigid breeze ruffled the back of his hair as he turned for one last glance.
Emily met his eyes. A mist of fine snow began to matt the carpeting about his feet, but he returned to her eyes wishing to hell she was not a thief that he had to return for censure.
CHAPTER V
Nestled in the forest the cabin was like a candle, the flickering fire from inside casting wraithlike waves across the snow. Brian emerged from the trees and noticed that his earlier footsteps were now mere distortions under the falling snow. As he mounted the stairs to the deck, he kicked the tips of his Timberlands against the wood rim and noted that no foreign tracks had joined his earlier trail.
He yanked on the sliding door.
All the lamps were off and the shimmering flames cast a blush over the vaulted room. Emily sat on the couch with her legs tucked beneath her, watching him.
The sight paralyzed him. In the wake of the fire her hair shined molten, and the heavy shadows only made her almond gaze more mysterious. With her head up and her willowy arm draped across the top of the sofa, she appeared regal.
A beautiful woman before a fireplace, inside a romantic cabin tucked away from the rest of the world. Even his most ardent of dreams could not have conjured this intimate a tableau. Even his strongest fantasies would have never done Emily justice.
Blowing into his curled fist, Brian uttered huskily, “Where is he?”
Emily tilted her head and glanced up towards the shadowed loft. Brian followed that trek. His eyebrows knitted and he rubbed his ribs before starting up the stairs.
At
the top it took a moment to acclimate with the dark. He approached a door that was ajar and cautiously brushed the panel open. It was a bathroom, with a hint of jasmine effervescing from the shower.
Jerking away from that scent, Brian moved to the next doorway, and inside used a dresser for leverage to feel his way deeper into the shadows. A dull thud marked the contact between the base of a double bed and his knee. A tiny lick of light from the fire reached the edge of the mattress to reveal a socked foot.
Colin lay face down across the quilt, his faint snores muffled by the pillow. Brian was tempted to jar him awake with his sore kneecap. Here this man slept like a baby while his wife sat downstairs, so beautiful and noble, contemplating her fate.
At the mere thought of Emily, Colin Brennan was already forgotten. Brian approached the balustrade. He stood rooted at the top of the stairs, and felt like a voyeur, gazing down at the pensive figure below. She had not moved. Her gaze was locked on the fire, its dancing flames casting animated shadows across her face. Shadows that revealed fear and angst.
Did he speak her name out loud?
Brian didn’t know if her name had slipped from his lips, but Emily glanced up.
With each step Brian Morrison descended, Emily’s heart accelerated. Where was the genial stranger—the man who had laughed with her through the wee hours of the night? This figure descending from the shadows was as mystifying and glorious as a wolf. His black hair glistened from fresh snow and his eyes which she thought had been flecked with gold were actually much deeper and complex, obscuring the path to his soul. His tall frame filled the stairwell, and though he moved with the faintest of limps, every sinuous motion suggested the power of one of nature’s beasts.
Emily was frightened, but her soaring heart rate was not so much from fear, but rather a heightened awareness. A man was approaching. A virile man. An intelligent man. A man who had held her hand in the night and made her troubled world disappear.
“Is he asleep?” She whispered.
A frown altered the trek of the healing slash. “Yeah.”
Lowering her socked foot to the carpet, Emily awaited his next move. To her relief he sank onto the far corner of the couch, one elbow coming to rest on his knee as he immersed his hand in his hair, revealing his fatigue. Only for a moment did he show this sign of weakness, and then his hand dropped to let those untamed eyes condemn her.
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