Borrowed Time

by Miller, Maureen A.

  “What about you?” His voice was brusque.

  She tried to shrug. “Not tired I guess.”

  “Worrying about what’s going to happen to you?”

  “Worrying about what’s going to happen to him.”

  Brian sat down on the couch and stretched his legs out, letting his head drop back against the cushion. Methodically he rubbed at a pain near his temple and closed his eyes. “Emily the angel—always looking out for everyone else.”

  Emily was about to offer him an aspirin, but rescinded. “Look, let’s just get this out and over with right now. I didn’t know who you were. I thought you were seriously hurt—I couldn’t just leave you—”

  “The second night?”

  Dammit. “Okay, okay. What do you want to hear? That I couldn’t leave you till I knew you were okay? That when I was with you I felt irrationally safe. Do you want to hear that I was attracted to you?” Her throat made a strangled sound. “None of it matters now, so let’s put it behind us.”

  It didn’t appear that her declaration did anything for his temperament. If anything, his expression turned darker.

  “So you abandoned him,” Brian hitched his thumb towards the stairs, “for another night with me?”

  “I didn’t abandon him.” Her voice rose, and Emily quickly cleared her throat. “Colin was waiting for me, but he was safe. If there was anybody NMD was after at that moment, it was me.” Her smile was bitter. “That much was evident.”

  “Wasn’t he concerned? Was that who you were talking to on your cell?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mmmmm.”

  It was hard to return his penetrating stare. Emily sought the withering flames as a diversion. If he was going to arrest her, go ahead and do it, but stop the torment of that reproachful gaze.

  “What happens now?”

  The smoldering embers glowed in his eyes. “Not for me to decide. I bring you back, that’s all.”

  “But,”

  “Emily, please, don’t.”

  It was the first time he said her name since he located her in the woods. It surprised her to hear a tinge of pain in his voice. If she thought that tone offered hope, all she had to do was look at the resolved set of his jaw to know that wouldn’t be the case.

  “What’s with the revolutionary politician over there next to you?” Brian nudged his head towards the empty cushion at the juncture of the L-shaped couch.

  Emily glanced desolately beside her and felt the muscles in her throat begin to restrict.

  Not now. Hold it together, just hold it together.

  “You wouldn’t understand. Colin has a hard time relating with people.” Her head came up, and her eyes narrowed. “There’s nothing wrong with him, if that’s what you’re implying.”

  “I wasn’t implying anything,” Brian cupped the side of his rib cage and kneaded the muscles. “I’m curious. Really curious. Why did you do this? You didn’t have to involve yourself. From what I saw of your records, you were a stellar engineer—quiet, got your projects done on time, regular bonuses—why ruin that?”

  Emily surged to her feet. With her fingers crammed in the pockets of her jeans she paced before the fire. Ultimately, she turned her back to the heat, folded her arms and poised before him.

  “There is more to me than a bunch of words jotted down on a report. And do you honestly think I care about the judgment of a company that is willing to resort to murder to repress an engineer’s knowledge.”

  “Whoah,” Brian rose now too, though he required the arm of the sofa for assistance. “You dropped that allegation before. This time I want you to back it up.”

  “You want it in black and white, Brian? Colin designed a machine that NMD with their multifaceted staff could never imagine. Except Colin’s design was an outline to pass time—something to doodle. Doodling soothes him. It’s stimulation. It was not aproject. My God, it’s not something that will take the abuse NMD intends to subject it to. He told them that.”

  Emily swiped a hand beneath her hair in hopes the cool draft that filtered through the aging timbers would reach her flushed neck. “And they didn’t believe him. They thought he was holding out. When they demanded his CAD drawings, Colin started—he—” Futilely she glanced towards the plush couch.

  “He started talking to Ben?” Brian offered quietly.

  “Yes.” There was a challenge in her eyes that Brian yielded to.

  He took a step forward, but the motion was so subtle Emily never noticed it. “Go on,” He prompted.

  Deflated, she proceeded in a lifeless voice. “It got out of hand. They thought he was making a mockery of them. I was called in. They grilled me, and I told them the design was not real. For a savant, it was the equivalent of a kid finger-painting.” Her head dropped back to stare at the ceiling in desperation, “albeit a brilliant kid, and the finger-painting was the likes of a concept NASA had already entertained but ultimately scrapped because they couldn’t get it to work.”

  Realizing she was thinking out loud, Emily jerked back to reality and moved away from the eyes that haunted her since the moment they flew open on Highway One. She took up position by the floor-length windows and leaned her forehead against the cool pane to watch the steady snowfall under the porch light. In the wake of that fluorescence she could study each flake, the uniqueness in design—the complexity of shape.

  In a world full of brilliant engineers, no one could blueprint anything as fascinating and intricate as a snowflake.

  “I got Colin out of that inquisition. Four hours later, the brakes failed on his Volkswagen and he skidded into a field. Safe, thank God.”

  If she lost him. Her parents loss had nearly broken her, but if she lost Colin too—

  The fire faded to a dull glow, and the only light in the room was cast across the floor from the outside bulb. Brian felt tension in his chest again, but he couldn’t draw his eyes away from her. Emily’s fingertip traced the glass, trailing the unpredictable path of a slow-moving flake. Her feminine silhouette seemed harmonious with the forest, a lithe creature that at any moment could merge with the trees and leave him.

  “Tell me why I should believe that?” He asked quietly. “If something like that happened, it could have been a fluke. That Volkswagen is a relic.”

  There was no point in letting her know that Barcuda was indeed capable of such fanaticism, and his henchmen had procured information in the past with no less tact. It was that contention that kept Brian and Barcuda at opposite ends of every project, but both were good at what they did.

  “I told you already.” She said, still facing away. “You have no reason to believe me. And frankly, I don’t really care about your opinion. But whatever comes of this—wherever you take us—the truth will come out. I will make sure of that.”

  Brian saw the tense conviction in her body. The way her legs were firmly planted, her palms flat on the glass in support, or as a springboard to leap. But in the reflection of the glass it was her eyes that betrayed her. Panic pooled in those wells, interrupted only by an occasional long-lashed blink.

  “Emily,” He whispered, “You are more than a bunch of words on a report.”

  Emily turned around.

  Above, something shifted. The sound was innocent enough to pass for the wind, or the roof groaning against the strain of ice and snow. Brian listened for a repeat, but now all that could be heard was a persistent limb tickling the kitchen window. In his periphery he could see its warped black claw tapping, tapping, seeking a way into the cozy cabin.

  “Brian?”

  “Stay right here.” He ordered.

  At the base of the stairs Brian hesitated and searched the impenetrable shadows. The waning fire was no longer a benefit. With a stealth that was nearly undermined by his throbbing ankle, he mounted the steps, and was halfway up when it reached him.

  That spike of cold air. A wayward underscore to escape. He knew before he reached the top what to expect. Instinct still had him grabbing behind his back
for the gun.

  At the bathroom door, a mist of fine snow sprinkled his face, a cold slap of reality a second before he threw the switch and saw the open window. Annoyed that he had let Emily be such a distraction, Brian gripped the frosted frame and searched the immediate area below. The ground was clear for a few feet till the impenetrable darkness of the forest swallowed the view. Damn. Turning back to the bedroom, the sweep of the bathroom light revealed the vacant bed.

  Brian wrenched a hand through his hair and cursed the day he left the Navy.

  Feeling suddenly much older, he started back downstairs, but was drawn up by the woman standing at the bottom. If Emily had posed as a distraction—if she was part of Colin Brennan’s plan to escape, it was almost impossible to tell that from the look on her face. Her hand clutched the winding knob of the balustrade, knuckles white from the ferocity of her grip. Haunted eyes looked up at him, a dark combination of dread and conclusion. She knew. She knew that Colin was gone, but Brian was certain the knowledge came as a shock.

  “No.” She shook her head, tossing away what he was about to say.

  “He’s gone.”

  “No.” Emily started up one step, her eyes searching his.

  She shifted past them, looking to the top of the steps as she called, “Colin?” But it was a hoarse sound that barely reached Brian.

  “He’s gone.” Brian repeated.

  “No.” This time she charged past him, her elbow clipping his chest as Brian doubled over and groaned out her name. He reached to catch her in passing, but her slim frame eluded his grip. Relying on the rail, he held a hand to his injured side and started up after her.

  Emily saw the bed, pivoted, and felt the sting of cold air. Tunnel vision clarified the bathroom window, though it seemed such a distance away. Perhaps it was just that her limbs felt cumbersome. They refused to respond and approach that small, black rectangle, like a portal to an afterlife she wanted no part of. But approach it, she did, and the vicious surge of icy wind froze her tears long before they could form.

  “Oh Colin, what have you done?” She rested her forehead against the wooden frame and prayed for a revelation.

  “Emily?”

  She rounded on him, fury brimming in her eyes. Brian was the reason her brother was gone. Till this NMD goon arrived at their cabin there was a chance for them. Emily knew she was fooling herself—that there was little likelihood of escape, but she had hoped for time. Time to contact a lawyer. Time to safely store the data.

  Brian Morrison’s arrival meant time had run out.

  “You did this.” Emily hissed with her back against the wall.

  There was the fleeting thought to scramble through the window, but Brian was only a few steps away, a distance he could swallow quickly if he wanted to.

  Even as she watched him approach, cool, assured, tired—no, forget the last one. There was no sympathy left in her. As a matter of fact, taking in his dark features, Emily convinced herself that he began to look sinister. The big bad wolf analogy returned with a vengeance.

  “I’m going after him.”

  “Of course you are.” She said.

  “And you’re coming with me.”

  Not a chance. She had to stay here. What if Colin realized the mistake he made? What if he returned? “I have to stay—what if he comes back?”

  Brian did something that startled her. He offered his hand. “I’m not going to risk losing both of you.”

  Emily’s gaze dropped to that offering and was jolted by recognition. She remembered how that course palm caressed hers with calluses that felt like armor, but tickled her skin, all the while the tinny resonance of a nearby nurse lost to the beat inside her head.

  With a vicious wrench she broke from the spell and from his extended hand. She was in a bathroom that had become so chilly her jaw started to shudder and her fingertips became numb. With a bleat of anger she reached behind her and yanked down the sash.

  When she turned back to meet Brian’s eyes, for a second she swore there was compassion there, but if there had been, it disappeared as he approached.

  “Come on.” His hand was on her arm.

  “Are you forcibly dragging me out of here?”

  Brian made an exasperated grunt. “If I have to, you know I will. I think you’re a little too classy to allow for that though.”

  A fresh pelt of ice battered the glass as the wind kicked up. Outside, its lamenting howl warned that the storm was intensifying. That wind whisked away Emily’s bravado.

  “We have to find him.” Her shoulders sagged. “Colin could—anything could happen out there.”

  Brian watched her for a long time until she started to feel defeat creep into her veins.

  “Get your coat,” he said. “A hat and gloves too. We’re going to need it.”

  Head tucked into the wind, the hat gone, plucked away by a spiked branch, Emily listened to the shrill sound of the storm piercing her numb ears. Beside her, Brian plodded methodically through the roadside drifts of snow. With effort she lifted her gloved hand and pointed towards a maelstrom of swaying pine limbs, trying to see past their animated arms into the tiny clearing. Brian’s head dipped to shout into her ear.

  “It’s gone.”

  She could see that now and was temporarily infused with the warmth of relief.

  The Volkswagen was gone.

  Colin had managed to start it up and make it out of here. As quick as relief warmed her, anxiety attacked with cold, precise fingers. Lodging her hands deep into sheepskin pockets, Emily followed the fresh tire tracks till they faded into night.

  “How’d he do it?” Brian stooped and used his hand to rake snow away from a tree trunk. He stood and extended an item for her inspection. “I tore the distributor cap off.”

  Emily smiled and felt the muscles in her cheeks grow rigid from the cold. “Colin is inventive.”

  “I gathered. A lot of good that’s done him so far.” Tossing the metal piece back into the snow where it quickly sunk out of sight, Brian reached for her elbow. “Okay, are you ready?”

  “For what?” She dug in the heel of her boot and grabbed a tree trunk for support.

  He glanced down the rutted trail and shook his head. “We’re going after him, of course.”

  “You have no idea where to look. Heck he’s halfway to Albany by now.” She hoped.

  “And your plan would be to stand here yapping and afford him more of a lead?”

  If the situation weren’t so dire Emily might have found humor in his weary assessment. “I just think that it’s awfully late. The storm is kicking up—and you look—you look—”

  “Yeah,” Brian’s head crooked and his lips thinned. “I look like shit. I know it. I’ve gotten over it. Now move— ” A shiver stalled his speech “—we need to get in the car.”

  Another bout of déjà vu crippled Emily as she saw the black Blazer parked at a slant beneath a drooping evergreen tree. Its front fender now bore a large indentation and deep scratches revealed slices of silver in the shiny black façade. Brian opened the door, and her tortured mind rehashed the image of his body sprawled out of it and onto the road.

  “Get in, it’s freezing out here.”

  The spacious interior provided refuge from the wind, but the temperature was well below zero, and her teeth were chattering again. Brian rounded the vehicle and tucked his long body behind the steering wheel. He revved the engine on the first try, and swept the lever for the heat as far as it could go. With the dash blowing cold air in her face, Emily turned to glance at her captor. His jaw was tense, a muscle throbbing down the side. Dark hair glistened black, with sparkles of ice woven in the thick mix. His eyes were riveted on the rear view mirror as he shifted the Blazer into reverse, narrowly missing a lifeless oak.

  At that second his gaze dropped to hers.

  In the light of the dash, Brian saw Emily watching him. She looked at him as if he were the Devil. Hmmph, just a day ago she didn’t think he was such a bad guy. As a matter of
fact she seemed—ah, hell, it wasn’t worth rehashing. She was a married woman. A thief. And, more importantly, an assignment.

  One that he wanted over as soon as possible.

  Brian jerked the Blazer into drive, and slammed his foot on the gas. For a moment the fat tires whirred in place and then with a surge, dug in and the vehicle jerked forward.

  “Well, you know the man, where do you think he would go?”

  The rush of snow assaulting the windshield was riveting. Windshield wipers helped to keep it from accumulating, but nothing could penetrate the relentless attack, like a swarm of white flies, reproducing by the second. “Remind me of my motivation for sharing that with you.”

  “Your motivation” Brian bristled, “is that if you don’t tell me, we circle around for hours. Then my charming disposition will quickly go to hell, and you’ll wish you had just come out with what you knew in the first place and spared us all this bull—”

  “Was that a threat?”

  “No. A premonition.”

  Emily gripped the seatbelt as the back tires skidded, and the vehicle’s rear end veered into a bank of snow. Skillfully Brian maneuvered the Blazer back onto the trail.

  “If you’re such a hot commodity for NMD, their pit-bull, if you will—what do you need me for?”

  Brian skewed a look at her. “I’m not a pit-bull and I don’t need you. But you’re here. You’re also a felon, and I’m not letting you out of my sight, so you might as well make yourself useful.”

  “You weren’t this obnoxious in the hospital, you know.”

  “Yeah, well you came across different yourself.”

  Silenced by mutually fractious thoughts, Emily jolted when Brian’s cell phone rang shrilly.

  “Morrison.” He barked into the device.

  “Hey, where are you?” Phil’s voice was distorted by the poor signal.