Mojave Rescue

by Tanya Stowe

  Cal turned away. Now that they were safe, he needed to make all thoughts of Drina Gallagher off-limits.

  She was dangerous. Top secret information flowed through her like water through a sieve. Not to mention the fact that her intense but misguided loyalties had already put both their lives in danger and almost certainly destroyed his hopes of breaking the spy ring. Buddy deserved better.

  Cal shut the door with a little more force than necessary.

  * * *

  Drina’s eyes scratched like sandpaper as she opened them. For a moment or two she couldn’t remember where she was. Simple log walls. A small oak desk. A bed stand with a brass lamp. She turned to look around and every muscle in her body screamed. Slumping back against the pillow, she lay still...until the scent of something wonderful drifted to her nose, buried beneath the heavy quilt.

  Food. Good food.

  Her stomach protested so loudly she had to move. Throwing back the covers, she pushed the computer farther beneath the blankets. Sometime in her half-dead state, she’d pulled it off the floor and stuffed it beneath her pillow. Amazed that she’d had that much sense, she steeled herself against the complaints of her weary body and sat on the edge of the bed. She was dying of thirst. She needed a bathroom, water and food, in that order. Everything else could wait.

  To her right, a bathroom offered a tiny shower. That, too, could wait, even though the zip tie cuts on her wrists hurt like crazy and might have been infected. Splashing water on her face, she fingered her hair, slipped into the sweats Cal had purchased with the boss’s money and headed toward the wonderful scent.

  Spaghetti? Sautéed onions and garlic. Definitely marinara.

  She opened the small bedroom door and heard the soft strains of classical music. A fire roared in the large river-rock fireplace. Across the room, a wide, double-paned window revealed soft white flakes falling in the twilight.

  “It’s snowing.” She spoke out loud without thinking.

  “Ahhh...the sleeping beauty awakes.”

  Cal stood behind the kitchen island/breakfast bar, stirring a large pot on the stove.

  “Barely. I could probably sleep more. Judging from the dusky light out there I’ve only been asleep for a few hours. Is it late afternoon?”

  Cal paused and leaned against the counter with both hands, palms flat. “Yes. It is. Twenty-four hours later.”

  Drina stopped. “Twenty-four hours?”

  “That’s right. You’ve slept around the clock. I put in a good fourteen hours myself, but you were down for the count. I was considering checking on you just to make sure you were still breathing. But then I thought if my marinara didn’t wake you, nothing would.” He gestured to the pot.

  “Your marinara? Did you make it from scratch?”

  “Yep.”

  “It smells wonderful and I’m starving.”

  “It’ll be ready in about half an hour.” Crossing to the fridge, he pulled out a bottle of water. “I suggest you start hydrating now.”

  “Thanks. I’m really thirsty.” She took the bottle and twisted it open as she moved toward the window and the snowy scene in front of her.

  “Is this the tail end of the storm that caused the flash flood?”

  “Actually, it’s a blessing from God.”

  She hated it when he used phrases like that. In her experience God didn’t bestow blessings. He just took things away. Frowning, she looked over her shoulder. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means we’re getting a break. This is a brand-new storm, a doozy, trailing right behind the other one. They’re expecting record snowfall, maybe even a blizzard. All the airports are shut down and probably the roads.”

  “Shut down the roads? How is that a blessing? Now we can’t get to the base.”

  “God’s giving us a reprieve, Drina. If we can’t get out, the bad guys can’t get in. We desperately needed rest and food. This storm will give us that plus time to move cautiously and plan. Perhaps I can come up with a way to get you to safety and still salvage my mission.”

  “You said that yesterday. It didn’t make sense then and it doesn’t make sense now.”

  Behind her, Cal said nothing. The silence stretched on until Drina couldn’t bear it. She looked back again. His gaze was fixed on her with a frown that made her cringe inside.

  “Have you considered what will happen after that? We don’t know where the leak is, Drina. You’ve risked your life to keep the plans safe. You’ll take them back, maybe even build the weapon, and in six months, when it’s operational, the mole will leak the plans and everything you’ve risked will have been for nothing.”

  She hadn’t thought that far ahead...hadn’t had the chance. Now that Cal put the possibility into such simple terms, the scenario chilled her.

  She shivered and rubbed her free hand up and down her arm. “I just need to get the plans to Bill. I trust him completely. He’ll know what to do.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  She spun. “What do you mean?”

  Cal snipped the end off a package of pasta and slid the contents into a pot of boiling water. “I’ve been going over the events of your kidnapping in my head. I don’t think the informer is on my end.”

  Another cold shiver rippled over Drina. “So just like that, my company is at fault.”

  “Think about it, Drina. I went into that meeting at the wind farm cold turkey. I had a gut feeling that you might be there but no other indication. Don’t you think something would have changed in my chain of information if the informant was on my side? I didn’t even get your phone message in time to respond. Yet Carter and Whitson picked you up minutes after you made that call to me. Tell me what you did to alert them.”

  She took a deep breath. “I called Bill’s home phone and told him I’d solved the problem.”

  “You called Bill on an unsecured line?”

  Nodding, she hung her head. “I was so excited... I just didn’t think. But Bill stopped me from saying too much. He told me to hang up and send the equations I’d discovered on the company’s secured email.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “I wrote the plans out. Typed them in a coherent order and prepared to attach the file to an email.”

  “Prepared? You didn’t send them?”

  The truth hit her even as he asked the question. “I got cold feet. I remembered part of your security briefing about eyes and ears. I couldn’t trust...”

  Cal leaned forward on the counter again. “Deep down you felt something wasn’t right in your own company.”

  She nodded with grim acknowledgment. “So I kept the information to myself, just to make sure I’d have to be kidnapped.” Her tone perfectly portrayed her disgust with her decision.

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself. You had no way of knowing all of our security measures would fail. It’s a reflection of how good these people are. It’s taken me two years to even get this close.”

  He shook his head. “What disturbs me most is how quickly they acted. Not ten minutes after your conversation with Bill, Carter and Whitson were on location, ready to snatch you.”

  “Whoever the boss is has to be close to Bill.”

  “And close enough to you to know your workaholic habits. You never work from home. You usually stay at the lab long after everyone else is gone.”

  Her lips twisted in a slight smile. “You know my habits and we’re not that close.”

  “I told you. I know more about you than you think.”

  His lips lifted in a slight smile that made her stomach jump. That crazy little jump was followed by a very loud grumble.

  All the way across the room Cal smiled. “You need food. This is almost ready. Have a seat and I’ll give you a roll hot out of the oven.”

  Drina didn’t need a second invitation. She hurried over and settled
onto a colonial-style chair situated beneath a simple plank table—polished to a sheen, yet rustic and masculine, like the rest of the cabin. A dark leather couch. Maple trestle-style end tables. The cross section of a pine tree, finished and mounted on tree-trunk legs, for a coffee table. Simple, tasteful and with the large, roaring fire, cozy in a rustic way.

  The tantalizing aroma of the fresh rolls Cal set in front of her added to the homey feel of his cabin. The bread was almost too hot to touch but that didn’t stop Drina. She grabbed a roll and tossed it from one hand to the other, helping it to cool before she scooped off a slab of fresh butter.

  “Real butter. Homemade rolls. How did you manage all this?” Steam rolled off the freshly opened bread and she closed her eyes as she inhaled the yeasty scent.

  “I can store flour and sugar, basic ingredients in plastic containers and they last much better than packaged products. Whenever I’m here, I fill the freezer and restock my basics just for an occasion like this. It is a safe house, after all.”

  “A safe haven.” Drina spoke around a mouthful of roll. She didn’t know if her hunger made the bread tastier but it melted in her mouth as easily as the butter. She reached for another just as Cal set a bowl of spaghetti covered in marinara sauce in front of her. The sweet, tangy scent of the sauce drifted upward and her stomach gave another gurgle.

  Grabbing her fork, she wound the pasta around and around the tines, then helped herself to the most perfect bite of spaghetti she’d ever sampled. She took another bite and another. Cal sat down across from her with his own plate.

  Smiling, he ducked his head. “I take it you like it.”

  With her mouth full, Drina could only nod.

  “Good.” Cal dived into his own food, the smile lingering on his lips.

  They ate in silence. As Drina finished her second helping and dabbed her lips with a napkin, Cal clasped his hands and leaned them on the table.

  “I’d like to say a prayer of thanksgiving if you don’t mind.”

  Her fingers flew to her lips. She may not agree with Cal’s Christian faith but she didn’t want to get in the way of it. “I’m sorry. Of course you did. You probably wanted to pray before we ate.”

  He gave another shake of his head and his lips twisted into the wry smile Drina was beginning to recognize. “In the last forty-eight hours you’ve had a granola bar and half a bottle of water. I think the Lord will understand your haste.”

  He bowed his head. “Heavenly Father, we thank You for bringing us through the desert safely. For protecting us and guiding us. I thank You for sending me to that shack in time and keeping my aim clear and true.”

  Yes, thank You for sending this man.

  “I also thank You for Drina and her courage in saving my life and I pray for the soul of Whitson, wherever he may be.”

  Startled, Drina looked up to study Cal’s bowed head. What a complex man he was. Cool, collected and calculating when in danger. Filled with compassion and yes...remorse, later.

  He glanced up and saw her watching him. For the first time, his gaze darted away from hers.

  Why was he suddenly uncomfortable? Was he sorry she had witnessed his regret? Was he embarrassed? Did he think it made him seem weak?

  Drina didn’t see it that way. His sincere compassion made him one of the most compelling men she’d ever met. Suddenly, she wanted to know more about him...she wanted to know all about him. But he rose from the table, forestalling any questions.

  Drina rose, too, and began to gather her dishes. Cal grasped her hand, stilling her movement. His hand was warm and firm and so very, very comforting. Once again, his touch felt like a lifeline she never wanted to release.

  “I’ll take care of the dishes.” He lifted her hand and turned it over, exposing the red, inflamed cuts on her wrist. “What I’d like you to do is take care of these.”

  He ran a finger along her wrist near the cuts. The simple gesture sent warmth shooting through her.

  “I—I would like to take a shower.”

  “I have a better idea. Come with me.”

  He linked his fingers through hers and led her toward his bedroom—which was almost as large as the living area. A king-size bed covered in a huge quilt of browns and beiges dominated the space. To the left, French doors opened to a meadow, revealing gently falling, oversize snowflakes. To the right, a bathroom...and tucked into a corner of the spacious area was a large bathtub, framed by wood and built up with river rock.

  “Is that a spa?”

  “It’s a spa tub with air jets.”

  Candles rested on one corner of the redwood decking. Two fluffy white towels draped over the other corner. Just to the side of the tub, a sink nestled into a wood vanity.

  Cal pulled a toothbrush package, a small travel-size tube of toothpaste and bottles of shampoo and conditioner out of a drawer and set them on the sink.

  “Do you have everything in this cabin?”

  “Everything I think I might need,” he said with a nod. “It is a safe house.”

  He pulled matches out of the drawer and lit the candles. Then he showed her how to work the faucets and the aerator for maximum relief.

  “And this...” He held up a small jar of what looked like purple crystals. “This is the secret ingredient. Epsom salts. Good for sore muscles and minor cuts. It’s also scented like pines for maximum relaxation.”

  Drina laughed. “I can’t believe you’d have something quite so feminine-looking in your cabin.”

  He grinned, a full-fledged smile that made Drina’s heart do some kind of flip-flop thing again. Her gaze lingered. She loved that very becoming dimple in his right cheek.

  “There’s nothing feminine about these Epsom salts. I have a rigorous workout routine that leaves me with as many muscle aches and pains as you’re experiencing right now. One soak in these babies and I’m good as new. So fill the tub, sit back and relax.”

  He turned down the overhead lights and shut the door behind him.

  Drina stepped up to the tub and started the water, making it extra hot. She brushed her teeth as it filled. When steam rolled over the tub, she poured in a generous scoop of Cal’s salts...and an extra pinch for good measure.

  Five

  By the time Drina wiped down the tub and dropped the towels in a rattan basket, her legs felt like jelly. She hadn’t been this relaxed in...well...years.

  Had her life really become so complicated, so driven, so...judgmental?

  As long as she could remember she’d adhered to her parents’ theory that narrow-minded fanaticism focused on one thing at the cost of all logical thought. That was why she’d always felt John’s death, born of misguided patriotism, was such a disastrous waste of a good man.

  But Cal made her see things differently. With him, duty didn’t come before others. It came because of others. He’d sacrificed his mission to save her life. His saw his duty as protecting others and even risked his life to do it. And obviously she needed protecting. She’d made a mess of her situation.

  They seemed to have the same goals, so why did she fight Cal every step of the way? Even when he was saving her life?

  There had to be some other reason, some underlying motive she couldn’t see. But she was too tired to think about it now. She was relaxed and ready for another marathon sleep, but a tantalizing smell compelled her to investigate. Fingering her damp bob into place, she headed out.

  As soon as she entered the front room the sweet aroma swept over her like a tidal wave.

  “Chocolate. You’re luring me into your web with chocolate.”

  “Mexican hot chocolate to be exact.” Cal crossed the room with two mugs in hand. “I’m making sure I get plenty of liquids in you while I can. But I have to be inventive with only powdered milk in the house.”

  Drina plopped onto the leather couch and blew on the steaming drink. One sip la
ter she closed her eyes in pure bliss. “How do you do this? Where did you learn to cook?”

  Cal eased back on the couch and placed one long, lean ankle on his knee. “My mother. She’s a gourmet cook and was one of the head chefs at a popular San Diego restaurant for years. She was always in the kitchen experimenting, trying new dishes and I was right beside her.”

  A sweet smile slipped over his lips. “We had a big, open family room and kitchen setup, like this. My mom and I would be in the kitchen, cookin’ away, and my dad and my sister would be in the family room, rockin’ out.”

  “Rockin’ out?”

  “My dad was a high school music teacher and a jazz musician. My sister loved to do the vocals. In fact, she still does. She makes pretty good money as a studio singer.”

  Drina suppressed a shiver. “Cooking. Jazz and singing. Your house must have oozed creativity.”

  Cal laughed. “Is that such a bad thing?”

  Drina paused. “Not bad. I just wouldn’t know what to do surrounded by all that.”

  Cal pinned his blue gaze on her. Why had she not noticed how the blue in his eyes was a light shade? That light blue accounted for the gray cast. She didn’t think she’d ever seen eyes quite that color.

  She was definitely relaxed. She never had these romanticized ideas...nor was she this talkative...especially about her family. But somehow, here in Cal’s presence, in this house, everything really did seem “safe.”

  “What were you surrounded with?”

  “Numbers. Classes. Studies.”

  “Are you telling me your parents never relaxed?”

  “That is relaxing to them. They have very active minds so they keep busy. Don’t get me wrong, they have active social lives, too. They are both heads of committees and brain trusts. They travel to conferences a lot. I have to say I probably knew my way around a hotel better than most adults.”

  “Travel is good. You probably saw a lot.”

  Drina’s relaxed eyes drooped shut and she laughed. “Sure. Just about everything there was to see from a hotel window.”

  Did she mean for her tone to be so bitter? Was she really that resentful? She’d struggled for so long to be a part of her parents’ world—a world of the nation’s top minds. Why, then, did she make her childhood sound so empty? She rushed to defend her past.