Wind Storm (The Gathering Storm Book 3)

by Marlow Kelly

  “Did you say you’d just got back from Ukraine?” he called.

  “Yes.” Where was he going with this?

  “Are all your clothes dirty?”

  “Yes.” She’d been planning to sleep in the nude rather than wear dirty clothing to bed. That wasn’t going to happen now.

  He knocked on the bathroom door. “I have a clean shirt you can use. There’s a washer and dryer in the main cabin. If you give me your clothes, I’ll put them in the wash for you.”

  That was a kind offer, but she didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of him laundering her underwear. She checked to make sure she was decent and then opened the door a crack. “I’ll do it myself.”

  He shoved his top through the gap. “You’re going to traipse through the main house in nothing but a T-shirt? Interesting, I never pegged you as an exhibitionist.”

  She could hear the laughter in his voice. “Bastard.”

  That triggered a belly laugh.

  He was still grinning when she opened the door. Luckily, his T-shirt came down to her thighs. Her wet hair was slicked back over her shoulders and, although her breasts were small, she knew it was chilly enough in the room to make her nipples pucker.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed as his gaze traveled down her body. “I-I brought you two aspirin and a glass of water. I figured you’d be achy.” He pointed to an end table next to the sofa bed, all the while staring at her chest.

  She couldn’t help but smile when she saw the bulge in his pants. She’d spent most of her professional life trying not to be a sexual creature. Attracting that kind of unwanted attention was dangerous in her line of work. But it felt good to know she could excite him, at least physically. For years, she’d wondered what it was about her that had driven him away. She’d buried her insecurities once she’d come to the realization that it didn’t matter why he’d left. If he considered her lacking, then to hell with him. Plus, she needed to find her own balance and live the life she wanted instead of waiting for someone else’s validation. The girl who’d been in love with him was gone, but the woman she’d become didn’t mind indulging in a little payback.

  “Thanks.” She skirted past him, grabbed the pills, and downed them with the water. She did hurt, and hoped they would work quickly.

  She opened her small case and tugged out a plastic bag full of her dirty clothes. She then added the jeans and T-shirt she’d been wearing and thrust them toward him. “Here, you may do my laundry.” She felt like a snotty princess ordering an underling around, but he deserved it.

  He stared at her, then at the bag. Finally, his gaze switched to her breasts. “Err-err.”

  He seemed to be struggling to talk so she helped him out. “You were right. I can’t walk through the main cabin dressed like this.” She waved him away. “Goodnight.”

  He took the bag and left without saying a word. It was very satisfying to put him in his place. Maybe she should be bossy, or overtly sexual, more often.

  She took a deep breath and released it, blowing away tension that had built up in her muscles. She shook one leg and then the other, then followed the same procedure with her arms and hands, loosening all her joints. Finally, she rolled her neck. A few ligaments popped.

  It might be the end of a horrendous day, but she was still in one piece. She needed sleep, even if it was only for a few hours. But she couldn’t relax unless she was armed. She sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed her backpack off the floor. First, she retrieved her pistol and placed it on the nightstand. Then she fished out her collapsible baton and unhooked her car keys. She’d have to rethink the combination; it had been a little awkward in action. Although, this was the first time she’d had to dive into her car with it extended, and maybe she’d overreacted when she’d headed for her car instead of her apartment.

  Urgh. She was too tired to think of all the things she should, or should not, have done. Experience had taught her that her emotions stayed under control when she was in the thick of a situation, but once the danger was over, then the second-guessing, nightmares, and insomnia would follow. She rubbed her face. All these issues could wait. Right now, she was in survival mode and needed to rest while she could.

  She placed the baton under her pillow then turned off the light and climbed into bed. A groan escaped her lips at the pleasure of being horizontal. Thankfully, Michael had laid two sleeping bags side-by-side so they wouldn’t be sharing a blanket. It was one thing to tease him and know he was attracted by the sight of her; it was quite another to lie under the same cover and share their body heat. That would be too intimate, and there was no way she could handle it. She zipped up the side of her bag and shifted until she was comfortable.

  Starting with her feet and working her way up her body, she contracted and relaxed her muscles while she ran through the day’s events. The routine always helped her decompress.

  The cabin door opened, and Michael entered. She could tell it was him by the sound of his footfalls and his scent.

  The mattress sagged as he sat on the edge and then he laid down next to her. He rolled on his side, facing away from her. It had been sixteen years since they’d been in the same bed, a lifetime ago, and yet something inside her wanted him to turn her way and wrap his arms around her. An old saying ran through her mind. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

  ****

  Michael tried not to move, but the metal bar that ran underneath the mattress poked him in the back, making it impossible to sleep. An errant mosquito buzzed near his ear. He waved it away.

  The day had caught up with Sinclair. That much was obvious. Working for Child Seekers International had to be hard on her emotionally. He’d done some cyber-sleuthing when she’d joined them, just to make sure they were on the up and up. What he’d found was a team of dedicated individuals who worked tirelessly with law enforcement across the globe in an effort to track down missing children and bring an end to modern slavery by preventing exploitation, rescuing victims, and educating society.

  It wasn’t a surprise that Sinclair, who had been sexually assaulted as a minor, would be drawn to save others, especially as she was a gifted linguist.

  She sighed and rolled over. The bed sagged in the middle, which made him feel as though he was sliding toward her.

  She whimpered and then rolled back to the other side.

  She must be dead to the world because there was no way she would have shown any kind of weakness if she was awake. He liked that she was a force to be reckoned with, even when he was on the receiving end of it, like this evening in Finn’s office or when she had lashed out over Ava’s phone.

  He groaned and rolled away from her. She’d been right to blame him. He hadn’t warned her about the Syndicate, but he had kept tabs on them while he was recovering. There’d been nothing invasive about his research, at least nothing that would make them come after his family and friends. Lance Ackerman’s heirs were busy fighting over his estate. In fact, they were so wrapped up in their petty squabbling they posed no threat whatsoever. He’d also checked on Lucy Portman’s activities to make sure she wasn’t making trouble and found nothing.

  He shifted again so he wasn’t lying on his left side, which tended to go numb if he rested on it for too long.

  “Can’t sleep?” Sinclair whispered.

  “Sorry, did I wake you?” he answered in the same hushed tones. Although why he was talking so quietly, he couldn’t say.

  “No, bad dream.”

  “You just fell asleep. How did you have time to dream?”

  “Really? I was hoping I’d gotten an hour at least.”

  “I think it’s been about five minutes, maybe ten.”

  She was silent for a long time. He thought she might have drifted off again when she said, “He was aiming for you.”

  He knew, without explanation, she was talking about the third gunman at his parent’s house. There was no denying her observation. The moment the wood had splintered by his head, he’d known he was th
e target. The Syndicate had come for the people he loved because they wanted to know his location. Everything that had happened on this God-awful night was because of him. “I’m sorry you got drawn into this.”

  “I was always in this…whatever ‘this’ is. The four of us always stood together. And if a bunch of greedy corporate CEOs need taking down, then we’re the ex-street bums to do it.”

  He smiled. “Thank you for hiding me.”

  “Anytime. It’s what I do.”

  “That and baking. Which is awesome, by the way. When did you learn to bake?”

  “My mom taught me when I was a little girl. I miss her.”

  He was surprised by her openness. “You’ve never talked about your life before you ended up on the street.”

  “I’m an adult now, and I decided to face my past.”

  “Why?”

  “I figured there’d always be a piece of me missing if I didn’t learn to deal with what happened. I don’t know if that makes sense.”

  “It makes perfect sense. You don’t want the past to define you, but how can you move on if you pretend it didn’t happen? That would be like lying to yourself. Is that it?”

  “Yes. Exactly.” The smile in her voice made everything seem brighter.

  “Actually,” she continued, “it worked out great. I tracked down my aunt. She inherited my parents’ house after my stepdad, Russel, died and David and I ran away.”

  “Why didn’t you go live with them? Why’d you end up on the street?”

  “We killed Russel, remember?”

  “David said he killed Russel.”

  “I had a part in it, too.”

  “That’s not the way your brother tells it.”

  He could almost hear the cogs turning in her brain.

  “I’ll have to talk to him.”

  He snorted. “Good luck with that. David’s as closed off as they come.”

  “Marie’s changed him.” Her voice softened. “He’s happier now, easier somehow.”

  “You like her.”

  “You make that sound like a bad thing and, no, I don’t like her. I love her. Without her, David would still be a shell, living a life of self-imposed isolation. Besides, she gave me one of her solar panels.”

  “She what?”

  “She gave—”

  “You have a solar panel that can be folded into a backpack and create enough electricity to power an apartment building?”

  “Not on me. I use it to power my she-shed.”

  “Your what?” He felt like he was repeating himself.

  “My she-shed. It’s a—”

  “I know what a she-shed is. You live in an apartment. Where the hell did you put it? On the roof?”

  She laughed. It was a musical sound and one he realized he hadn’t heard since they were teens. Back then, their amusement had been born out of a desperate need to escape their situation. This was different. It wasn’t forced. It was as though he was meeting a new version of Sinclair—Sinclair 2.0.

  “It’s on my cousin’s brother-in-law’s land near the Beaverhead-Deerlodge National Forest.”

  “Hold on. You have a cousin? I thought it was just you and David.”

  She sighed, clearly exasperated with him. “I told you I got in touch with my aunt who inherited the house.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “Seriously, how are you considered smart? My aunt had children. They felt terrible about the house. I mean, it wasn’t really theirs. I assured them I wasn’t after the money—”

  “What did you want?

  She sighed. “I’m getting to that. Stop interrupting.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I wanted photos. I didn’t have any pictures of my mom and dad.”

  “Did they have any?”

  “Yeah.” She rolled to face him. “And they’re good people.”

  “Did David go with you to meet them?” Even though his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, he still couldn’t make out her features.

  “No, he’s my brother. I don’t need his permission to find my family.”

  “But they’re his family, too.”

  The bed moved as she shrugged. She fidgeted for a while, getting comfortable, and then said, “I asked him at the outset. He didn’t want to know. He thought we should leave the past in the past.”

  “But you couldn’t.” It was a statement of fact more than a question, but she answered him anyway.

  “Like I said, part of me was missing. For a long time, I buried the memory of my parents because I couldn’t deal with everything I had lost.”

  “When we were on the street, you always longed to be part of a family. You used to tell us stories about how one day we would live in a big house and we’d always be warm and have food.” They’d sat in their plastic bag shelter on cold winter’s nights and listened to her tales. She’d described everything in wonderful detail. The house would be surrounded by trees because Tim loved the wilderness. She included computer games in her stories because Michael loved them. The twin’s needs were much more practical—a warm bed and full bellies. Looking back, he realized how much it said about them that their big dream was not to be hungry.

  “Anyway.” She drew out the word, a reminder he was getting off topic. “My elderly aunt and her children felt bad they’d sold the house and used the money for medical bills.”

  “Even though you told them you didn’t want it.”

  “Like I said, they’re good people. My cousin’s brother-in-law owns a massive property. His place stretches for miles. It’s larger than Tim’s ranch, and he offered me use of his land. I asked if I could put a she-shed on a small corner. I need a bolt hole, a place to unwind, and now I have a cabin I built myself.”

  “And powered by your sister-in-law’s solar panel.”

  “Of course,” she said and then gave a jaw-popping yawn.

  “You should get some sleep.”

  “Why are they after us? And why now?”

  He couldn’t blame her for sounding baffled; he was confused, too.

  “I’ve been trying to figure that out.” He lay on his back and massaged his temples “I have a gap in my memory. I can’t remember what happened before Portman hit me with his car. I recall being in the fifth-floor conference room of the PDE building, but everything after that is a blank.”

  “What’s the last thing you do remember?”

  “I emailed a video clip to Finn that exonerated David. After that—nothing. The doctor said it was caused by the concussion.”

  She shivered. “I saw you fly up and onto the hood of the car. I swear you bounced when you landed on the sidewalk. It makes me feel sick to think about. I was always grateful you were unconscious because, otherwise, you would’ve been screaming in agony.”

  “I always thought that was a good thing, too, but now I’m not so sure.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “What if I implanted a piece of malware that was set to go off in the future?”

  “How likely is that? I mean, it’s been over nine months since you helped David.”

  She had a point. “I could have written a code that I meant to trigger remotely and someone else accidently set it off, or I could’ve put a timer on it…like a failsafe.”

  “Say you did write a virus that would infect their computers at a later date…what would you get out of it?”

  “Information on the other members of the Syndicate, but that’s a guess. I don’t know for certain. You need to get some rest. We’ll talk in the morning.”

  She didn’t answer. Within moments, her breathing became deep and even.

  He lay in the darkness, waiting for sleep. Images from the day poured through his mind: Sinclair’s bruised face, his family barricaded in the basement, rolling with Sinclair across the floor, scared she’d get hit by stray gunfire, the argument with Ava, and Sinclair baking.

  That final thought filled him with peace. He didn’t know why, and he didn’t care. He held onto it until he drif
ted off.

  Chapter Eight

  Finn Callaghan sipped his coffee and sighed. Appreciating the stale, day-old, microwaved java meant he had no standards. He’d caught a few hours’ sleep in his chair with his feet up on the desk, which hadn’t been comfortable.

  Kennedy smiled as she marched into their shared office. She held out a large disposable cup and then frowned. “You already have one.”

  He met her in the middle of the room and took the offered drink from her hand. “Yeah, but it tastes like shit.”

  She eyed him, her frown deepening. She obviously didn’t like what she saw. “I thought you were going back to your apartment after the home invasion.”

  He swallowed a mouthful of coffee. It was hot and smooth. He resisted the urge to drain every last drop. “Army CID released Michael’s old cases, at least the ones that aren’t classified.”

  “And you stayed to go through them. Did you turn up any suspects?” With her free hand, she straightened the papers on her desk.

  He shook his head. “No. Most are either dead or still in jail. The ones that are out are more likely to commit identity theft and screw with his credit rating. I can’t see they’d have the means to carry out a coordinated attack on Sinclair and his family.”

  “We had to check it out. Papin didn’t sit behind a desk, decoding computer viruses when he was with Army CID. He had an undercover identity that he used without permission when he went into PDE. We wouldn’t be doing our jobs if we didn’t look into his background.”

  “You do realize that, technically, these cases don’t fall under FBI jurisdiction.”

  “I don’t know about that. Papin is a former federal agent.”

  “I like how you think.” He took another mouthful, enjoying the invigorating feeling of caffeine flowing through his veins.

  She stopped what she was doing and scrutinized him over the rim of her mug. “You think it’s them, don’t you?”

  “Who?” He didn’t want to drag her down into what was almost certainly a career-killing case.

  “What do you mean ‘who’?” She slammed her cup down on the table, causing a small amount of liquid to slosh through the sip hole. “The Syndicate. The group that set up David Quinn for kidnapping, tried to steal an old man’s land using Eminent Domain laws, engineered a bank robbery to expose an arson-for-profit ring, and who have someone in the Department of Justice who has access to our personnel files.” By the time she was done they were nose to nose.