by H. L. Wegley
She turned away from him. Her eyes streamed tears for the fourth or fifth time this morning. The mascara she had brushed on for her wedding had run, creating two large, sad looking, black eyes.
Katz placed a hand on KC’s shoulder. “Sorry, KC, but I can't let you go outside. It’s not safe.”
Behind Katz, near the end of the corridor, a door burst open.
Dressed in cargo shorts and a muscle shirt, a tall figure strode toward them … Brock. His gaze had locked on KC.
Thank you. Julia brushed her tears away and smiled at KC.
Brock rushed to her. “Kace, what's wrong? You've been crying.”
“Where were you, Brock?”
Hands on his hips, Katz studied Brock. “Yes, Mr. Daniels. I'd like to hear your explanation, too.”
“I’m fine, but the stupid doctor wouldn't discharge me.” Brock wrapped KC up in his big arms.
KC looked up into his face. “We thought you'd been shot.”
“Shot? Look … some numbskull of a technician tried to keep them from discharging me, so I just went back to my room, jumped into my clothes, and left.”
Major Katz pointed a finger at Brock. “Don't do that again. You were being guarded. You left my men defending an empty room and one of them was nearly shot.”
“Come on, Katz. Don't tell me Hannan sent another terrorist after me in less than twenty-four hours.”
“More likely Iran sent him. They want to get paid by Hannan and they were probably getting desperate.” Katz paused and looked from KC to Brock. “How did you find this place?”
Brock loosened his hold on KC. “Ever heard of a taxi? Taxi drivers are better than a GPS. I said Site 911, he nodded, and here I am. But what happened to security here? I just walked in and nobody tried to stop me.”
“For this part of the compound, it left with the Americans,” Katz said.
Brock nodded, then turned all of his attention to KC. He lifted her chin. “You're so beautiful, Kace. Well, all but those two black eyes are beautiful. If somebody had given you two black eyes, I'd kill them with my bare hands. I’d strangle him.”
KC took Brock's hands and placed his fingers on his neck. “Then start choking yourself, Mr. Daniels.”
“Katz … and now you, too? Kace, all I did was discharge myself to get here. It’s our wedding day, and … well, I was fine and I knew it.”
Steve and Jeff entered the hallway and hurried toward them.
“Hey, bro,” Jeff said. “It's about time. We thought you’d married KC and then left her standing at the altar.”
“That'll be the day.” Brock pulled KC into his arms and kissed her.
When Brock finally released her, KC smiled.
Julia’s heart smiled, too. A woman’s wedding day should be filled with smiles, not terror.
“Let's go, now,” KC said. “We’ve got an eleven-hour flight before our honeymoon begins.”
Brock looked at KC's eyes and frowned. “I'm not going on a honeymoon with a woman who’s got two black eyes. Somebody might think I beat my wife … on my wedding day, no less. Go wash.”
KC grinned. “But I’m going on a honeymoon with a man who’s got a concussion.”
“Possible concussion, Kace.”
“Whatever.” KC turned toward Katz. “Where’s the ladies’ room in this place?”
Brock tugged on KC, pulling her into a warm embrace and kissed her, again.
“Sweetheart, I thought you wanted me to wash my face first.”
Brock took her hands and broke out in a raspy rendition of Van Morrison's Brown Eyed Girl, substituting black for brown.
Julia giggled at Brock’s cleverly improvised lyrics.
KC struggled to cover his mouth with her hand, but big, strong Brock refused to stop singing until the song approached “the stadium” stanza.
The room filled with a cacophony of laughter until Katz’s booming voice called the room to attention. “It’s 1300. Time to go to the airport.” He snorted. “Americans … immersed in their pop culture while the world around them burns.”
“I resent that remark, sir.” Brock’s gaze bored into Katz.
Katz nodded. “I’ll bet you do. You’re one of the few Americans who has a legitimate right to. Now, on to Ben Gurion.”
Chapter 6
The huge house in front of Julia glowed like a lantern with light beaming from its large windows. The waters of Alta Lake in Whistler Valley lapped the lakeshore in the darkness to her right.
Julia stepped down from the van they’d been riding in for the past hour and a half and stood on a paved circle driveway. She smiled as she looked back at KC in the van.
The winds had been favorable and at fifteen minutes before midnight, on what was technically still her wedding day, KC Daniels slid out of the van and waited for her husband, the man she’d sat beside for nearly eleven hours on the Gulfstream.
These two had run, hidden, fought, and even killed to reach this moment, and Julia prayed that nothing would rob them of the joy their shared love held in store for them.
Brock hooked an arm around KC as they both studied the rustic log house nestled in the woods.
After everyone got out, Steve stopped by Julia’s side. “Listen to those two.”
KC looked up at Brock. “We just flew over halfway around the world to spend our wedding night here and it’s still our wedding night. Do you think anyone else has ever done that?”
Laughter broke out in the group of seven.
“Might be a world record, Kace.” Brock scanned the house for the second or third time. “This looks bigger than Julia’s house in Oregon. I think I could get attached to this place in a hurry.”
“You're already attached, Mr. Daniels, to me.”
A creaking sound came from the house and the large, wooden front door swung open.
A man in a suit stood in the doorway, motioning for them to come in. “Welcome to your new home away from home.” His words came wrapped in a mild British accent.
Jeff stopped beside Brock and poked his shoulder. “Do your duty, bro. We'll wait here.”
KC leaned close to Brock and whispered something in his ear.
“Uh… Kace… That's not the duty Jeff was referring to.”
“Oh.” She hid her face against Brock’s big chest.
He scooped KC up in his arms and carried her through the doorway. “This is what Jeff was talking about.”
Julia and Steve followed Brock and KC into a large room with polished wooden floors, a vaulted ceiling with huge logs for beams and stained logs for walls.
As KC and Brock passed the smiling man in the suit, he pointed down a long hallway to their left. “The master suite is ready for you. Last door on the left. Congratulations! And I hope you are satisfied with our Canadian hospitality.”
“Thanks,” KC croaked. Evidently, she still hadn’t regained her composure.
Brock let her slide to the floor.
“See you two in the morning,” Steve said.
“Or in the afternoon.” Jeff's voice. “Ouch, that hurt, hon.”
Allie waved a finger in Jeff’s and Steve’s faces. “That's enough, you two. Leave them alone.”
When KC and Brock reached the door to the master suite, Brock pushed it open and scooped up KC again. The door closed behind them.
What God had intended for these two was finally being fulfilled. Would Julia live long enough to find what KC had found in Brock? It was an unsettling question, like one equation with two unknowns, living and finding. For now, Julia needed to focus on the living part.
Five minutes later, she sat in a large easy chair in the living room.
Steve pulled up a small chair and sat beside her.
Jeff and Allie sat on the couch facing her. Allie’s legs were crossed and her arms folded on her chest. Julia had seen this posture before, right before Allie exploded.
Benjamin had excused himself to check the perimeter of the house. After the RPG attack in Netanya, and the attempt to k
ill Brock at the hospital, Benjamin had gone from being cautious to clearly paranoid.
Jeff’s and Steve’s banter centered on the honeymooners.
Julia heard nothing crude, but their remarks soon bordered on things of an intimate nature.
Allie’s laser eyes grew more intense with every word from Jeff. Her sometimes volatile temper appeared near its flashpoint.
Jeff smirked. “I’ll bet Brock—”
“That’s enough!” Allie leaped to her feet. “If I hear one more wisecrack about Brock and KC, I’m going to stick a cork in your mouth, Jeff Jacobs.” She looked at Steve. “And in yours, too. Those two have loved each other since they were kids. This was meant to be and I’m not going to let anyone spoil their special time. And you’d better not embarrass them at breakfast tomorrow, or I’ll use the biggest pan in the kitchen on your thick head.” She turned to sit.
Jeff grinned. “Breakfast? They may not even show for lunch.”
Allie whirled to face Jeff, hands on her hips. “That’s it. You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”
“But, hon, that’s where Benjamin’s sleeping.”
“Then you’d better pray he doesn’t snore.”
Allie stomped out of the room headed toward her bedroom.
Jeff caught her in the hallway outside the bedroom, a spot clearly visible from Julia's seat in the big chair.
Jeff pulled Allie's head against his chest and kissed her forehead. Julia couldn't hear the words they exchanged, but Allie's smile returned seconds before the two entered the bedroom. Their door closed.
Julia looked at Steve sitting beside her, eyes studying her. They were the odd couple out. A new kind of loneliness crept into Julia’s heart, the kind that ached for fulfillment by someone to share life with, someone who was more than just a friend.
Steve took her uninjured hand. “Well, the old married couples have retired for the night.” He squeezed it. “I think I'll wait up to see what Benjamin thinks of the security in our new digs.”
If only she could be like those “old married couples” with someone to fill the empty spot in her heart. She had a prime candidate sitting beside her.
Julia looked at Steve and her cheeks grew hot. She was blushing, afraid that Steve might be reading her mind. But her embarrassment wasn’t uncomfortable enough to send her off to bed where she’d be alone.
She looked across the room to the kitchen until she could again meet Steve’s gaze. “I think I'll wait up with you, if you don't mind. Would you like some tea or coffee? Our hosts stocked the kitchen cupboards for us.”
He smiled. “Coffee would be great.”
Julia returned his smile with an even warmer one. For the moment, she would let Steve drive her loneliness away. Beyond this moment, however, there were issues lurking, issues they hadn't yet discussed, issues for which she saw only a faint hope of resolving. And those were only her issues. She was certain Steve had some of his own and he hadn’t been willing to share them, yet.
Steve was handsome beyond belief, and he had so many wonderful qualities that things could get serious in a hurry, if it weren’t for the biggest issue. It stood between them like a mountain—McKinley, maybe Everest—but Steve either didn't realize it, or he was avoiding the subject, completely.
On the plane, Julia had hinted at one of the lesser issues, Steve’s name. Maybe that was a good place to start this discussion.
Steve gave her his grin, one that could disarm a battleship. “I’ve noticed that you seem to have an aversion to my name?”
Had he read her mind? “Not an aversion. Steve's a fine name, but it was my father's name, and it seems a little weird to …” Julia's words had painted her into an awkward corner. “I mean it would be so … uh …”
“You mean, if we ever became more than friends who occasionally hold hands, it would weird you out to call me your dad's name one moment and then maybe … kiss me the next?”
Steve's Ranger training was clearly on display. Detect the obstacle and remove it. But his direct approach had heated her cheeks somewhere near hot pink. “Uh … something like that.”
“You can call me anything you want … well, almost anything.” He reached for her uncasted hand.
She slipped her small hand into his large powerful one. “Steve’s fine. I’ll get used to it.”
He grinned again. “I hope so.”
Julia felt so safe with this powerful warrior beside her. But his being a warrior was the mountain between them, and she didn’t know how to approach that subject. When she did, would Steve understand her beliefs about warfare? Would he understand her horror of it?
A cloud passed over his face, leaving a look Julia had only seen flash in his eyes once before. Steve's face had displayed that intense, wide-eyed expression when he gripped her hand in the tent before Abdul, the brute on Hannan's black ops team, had shot at Steve, forcing him to jump out of the tent, leaving Julia behind.
After the cloud passed, the warmth in his eyes returned. He peered into her eyes and studied her face for a moment. Soon, his gaze went through her, as if he were looking into another time or place … or at another person.
Looking at, looking through—did he even see her? This was getting freaky. “Steve?”
“So I’m still Steve?” The man she was beginning to know returned, smiling, confident, and so easy on the eyes.
“Yes. Steve. You know, if I had changed your name, all five of us here may end up using whatever I chose.”
“That'd be okay. After what we’ve been through together, you're all like family. All like …” His eyes again looked away through some door to another world.
Would he open the door to this part of his life and let her in? She squeezed his hand. “You’ve been thinking about something ever since …”
“Ever since I sat down beside you.”
Did she have something to do with his mental excursions? “Would you mind sharing it?”
Steve sighed. “I’ve been thinking about my sister, Stephanie.” He paused and looked down at the area rug in front of them. “Steph died ten years ago.”
“Oh, Steve. I'm so sorry. You two were close, weren't you?”
“Twins usually are.”
“Twins? I can’t imagine how awful that must have been for you.”
“But you remind me so much of her, Julia.” The look he gave her was filled with torment and something else, something she couldn’t interpret.
She looked like Steph? Was Steve trying to regain his sister through Julia? Was that why he liked her? Even without an answer, the question upset her. Maybe she wasn’t as important to him as—
Julia Weiss, how can you be so selfish?
If it eased Steve’s pain, she would be Steph for him. If they remained close friends and nothing more, then the mountain wouldn’t matter. But one thing was certain, as Julia or Steph, with or without the mountain between, if she continued spending time with Steve, Julia Weiss could easily end up with a shattered heart. But if that’s what it took to mend Steve’s heart …
The front door opened. Benjamin entered; his intense eyes flashed danger, just as they had after the RPG attack.
Benjamin motioned for Julia and Steve to follow him. He led them to the wide granite counter near the kitchen where a notepad lay beside the telephone.
Benjamin pulled out a pocket pen and began printing. “I think we’re, as you Americans say, snug as a bug in a rug here.” He finished the message on the notepad and moved his hand out of the way so they could read it.
Don't discuss anything about our plans or our mission. The house is bugged.
Chapter 7
When Julia awoke at a quarter after six, the sun had already topped mountains to the east. It lit her room through the open curtains she had forgotten to close. With the house bugged and possibly under surveillance, how could she have been so careless?
Her bedroom window faced the east. When Julia pressed her face against the glass, she could see from Whistler Mountain and
Blackcomb Peak northward to other mountains in the distance. Each peak had dazzling white glaciers clinging to its rocky crags, while large glaciers blanketed the saddles between peaks, inviting summertime skiers.
Brock said that some people skied the glaciers in their swimsuits and, at 6,000 feet above sea level, often suffered severe sunburn. Since danger had preceded them to this beautiful place, Julia doubted they would be able to enjoy the scenery any more intimately than she was currently doing from her bedroom window.
Benjamin told them that August in Whistler would be warm. The only clothing she had saved from their bombed out suite in Netanya was what Julia had worn that day. Major Katz had allowed them to pick up few items of clothing before their flight to Canada, but today was a day for something cool. She adjusted the cast on her wrist and slipped into her denim shorts and a sleeveless summer blouse while Benjamin's warning about the house being bugged played through her mind.
Wondering what Benjamin had decided they should do, Julia walked down the hallway to the large family-room window. Outside, near the lake, Steve and Benjamin sat at a picnic table in the back yard, overlooking the dark blue water of Alta Lake.
The two were locked in an intense discussion.
Julia exited through the kitchen’s back door and headed across the lawn. The sun warmed her arms and legs, a sharp contrast to the icy chill growing inside her from the realization that the people monitoring them wanted to kill them.
Benjamin looked up as she approached. “Keep your voice down. I didn't see any mics outside, only a camera. But let's not take any chances.”
She looked down into Benjamin's intense brown eyes. “If we have to whisper, even outside, we aren't safe here. What are we going to do about that?”
Steve moved over to make room for her and she slid in beside him.
“Do you suppose they’re watching us right now?”
She got no reply. “What if they can read lips?”
Benjamin’s eyes widened. “I think they just bugged the place with mics.” He leaned across the table toward them, subtly shielding his mouth from view using his hand. “I've been on the satellite phone with Major Katz. He says we should finalize our plan today and be out of here before nightfall. But, until then, we shouldn’t act like we know someone is listening.”
