by Deb Stover
"Ready?" he asked.
Sofie nodded, obviously understanding the significance of what he was about to do. "I guess we're off to change history then."
"I sure as hell hope so." He looked down at the letters and Bible tied together with a ribbon. The crucifix would go, too, he decided.
Sofie tapped his shoulder and held something silver before his eyes. "This, too, please."
"Why?"
"I don't know. I just want our things to go through history together. I mean, what if..." Sofie touched his arm. "What if these letters change things so much that this–that we don't happen?"
He stared at her for several minutes, unable to believe such a horrible thing was possible. Gathering her against his chest, he held her silently for several minutes, then lifted her chin so he could watch her eyes.
"We're meant to be, Sofie," he said, and meant it. "In any time, any place, any lifetime."
She smiled, though tears appeared in her eyes. "Yes, I believe that."
"I cherish you." He brushed his thumb along her eyebrow. "Never forget that."
"I won't, Luke." Tears slid down her cheeks, and he captured one on the tip of his finger. "I won't."
He held her tear to the light steaming through the window behind him. "I love you," he whispered, then kissed her very gently. Straightening, he searched her expression. "Promise me, Sofie, that no matter what happens, you'll remember we're meant to be. We belong to each other. Always."
Sofie kept the secret of her dizzy spells and memory flashes to herself as they walked the short distance to the millinery shop. Luke didn't need to hear her problems right now. He had enough to worry about.
She'd remembered more apparently unrelated instances during the night. Maybe it had been the champagne, or perhaps it was because she felt safe and loved now. Who knew? But for some reason her memory was beginning to return.
Whoever she was, whatever she remembered about herself, she didn't want it to interfere with her marriage. She loved Luke desperately, and she couldn't bear for anything to come between them.
She wouldn't let anything come between them.
They stood together on the sidewalk, looking through the window of the building his family would one day own. She memorized the appearance of it, including the bright orange awning under which they now stood. The color distinguished this building from all the others.
"All right, so while you have the shopkeeper busy helping you with the suit, I'll hunt for a loose brick."
Luke seemed nervous, but that was understandable. "Can I be 007?" she asked, trying to take the edge off his anxiety.
"No, your voice isn't low enough." He gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Let's go."
A bell rang as they opened the door, and Sofie admired all the interesting hats on display. After a moment, a woman appeared from the back room, wearing a beautiful navy dress with white lace at the collar.
"Ah, I see you're back for the fitting." The woman introduced herself to Sofie, then showed her to the dressing room.
Sofie admired the blue velvet traveling suit. Black braid trimmed the cuffs, waist and collar, and the buttons were covered with more blue velvet. She tried on the jacket and skirt, admiring the way the color looked with her eyes.
"I can see why your husband chose this color for you," the woman said. "Lovely, and it fits as if it were made for you."
"Yes, I guess it does." She furrowed her brow, realizing she needed to buy Luke a little more time. "Do you think it's too snug across the bust–er, bosom?" Heat flooded her face. At least she hadn't said "boobs."
"Not at all." The clerk laughed and tugged at the hem of the jacket in back. "The buttons don't pull apart in front, nor does it pucker across your back."
"True." Sofie appeared to scrutinize the fit with a critical eye, turning and prancing in front of the mirror, though her thoughts were in the other room with Luke. "You said it's a traveling suit?"
"Yes, your husband thought you would be needing one." The shopkeeper leaned closer and whispered, "A surprise honeymoon, maybe?"
Sofie shrugged, remembering Luke's reaction this morning when she'd mentioned Dr. Bowen. Had he really believed she wouldn't go see the doctor who might help restore her memory? That made no sense.
"He's very handsome."
"Who?" Sofie furrowed her brow, then met the shopkeeper's shocked expression in the mirror. "Oh, you mean Luke–my husband. Yes, he's very handsome."
"You're still a nervous bride, I think." The woman tugged and adjusted the jacket, and looked at the hem of the skirt. "The skirt is a mite long, I think, but some good high-button boots should do the trick."
"Do you think so?" Sofie half-turned to check the hem, though her mind was on her husband. She was far from a nervous bride. On the contrary, she was a very eager bride. She had no idea what her past had been like, or how much experience she'd had with men and sex, but she definitely knew her way around in bed.
Thinking of the champagne she and Luke had licked off each other's skin last night made her warm all over. She tugged at the close collar of the jacket.
"Is it too tight there?" the woman asked.
"No, it's fine." Sofie managed a weak smile, but the image of the champagne she'd poured over Luke intruded on her thoughts. Had she really done that to him?
Oh, yes.
"I'll pin the hem, then this should be ready for you by Friday."
Sofie nodded, mumbling something affirmative, then reached for the top button of the jacket just as the curtain opened behind them. In the mirror, she stared at the figure looming there.
Mr. Smith.
The shopkeeper whirled around just as Smith's fist came down hard on the side of her head. Sofie opened her mouth to scream, but Mr. Smith grabbed her arm and jerked her hard against him, clamping his hand over her mouth.
She bit down hard as he slammed her against the wall. Her head rang from the impact, but she tried to focus on the man. Why was he here? What did he want?
Mr. Smith dropped a folded piece of paper on the floor beside the unconscious shopkeeper, then he hauled Sofie through the curtain and out into the street. Where was Luke? Dizziness crashed into her.
"My niece is ill," Mr. Smith said in a raspy whisper to the gawking onlookers. "Make way..."
Then the world went black.
Luke took great care in replacing the brick he'd found on the back side of the wall. The hollow behind it was just the right size for the Bible and letters. Maybe it was another sign. A good one.
There he went again, seeing some kind of special sign in everything that happened. Well, considering how happy he was with his new wife...
Smiling to himself, he returned to the front room of the shop and waited for Sofie to come out of the dressing room. They were taking an awfully long time. That probably meant the suit required alterations.
Luke flipped through the book on the end table, growing bored with the sketches of Victorian coats and dresses, but finding his interest piqued somewhat by the corset section. Of course, all these models wore more than just a corset.
With a flash of fire to his groin, he remembered the way Sofie had looked standing in front of him wearing nothing but that corset. Man, oh, man, the way her breasts had been pushed up and out, just waiting for him to come along and...
He shifted uncomfortably in the chair, planning exactly what he would do to his wife once they were back at the hotel. With growing impatience, he tossed the book back onto the table. What was taking them so long? He stood and paced the room, from the front window to the rear wall, then back again. Finally, he went to the dressing room curtain and cleared his throat.
"Sofie?" No response. He knocked on the wall beside the curtain. "Sofie?"
Still nothing.
A low moan wafted through the closed curtain, reminding Luke of that morning in the execution chamber, when he'd first heard Sofie's cry for help. Terror tore through him and he jerked aside the curtain.
The shopkeeper was on th
e floor, the side of her face badly bruised. Luke knelt beside her and helped her to a sitting position. "Where's Sofie?" he asked, looking around the small room frantically. "Where's my wife?"
"I...I don't know." The woman pressed her hand to the side of her face and head. "He hit me."
"Who hit you?" Luke's pulse roared and his palms turned sweaty. "Where's my wife?"
She looked around the dressing room, her eyes wide and frightened. "Good heavens, he must have taken her."
Gritting his teeth, Luke's gaze fell on the folded slip of paper on the floor beside the woman. "What's this?" His voice shook.
But before he actually retrieved the piece of paper, before he opened it and read the words, before he allowed his sense of reason to argue the facts, he knew. His vision blurred as he tried and failed to read the words.
The woman took it from his trembling hand and rubbed her eyes, then read it aloud: "Your chair awaits."
Luke took the note from the clerk's hand and helped her to her feet, though all he wanted was to run out the door after the woman he loved. Sofie. His wife.
"The cash box is still here," the clerk said from behind the counter. "I don't think anything's been stolen."
"Only my wife."
"We don't know that for certain."
"I know it." Luke looked at the door, then back to the woman. "You all right?"
"I'm fine." She looked at him thoughtfully. "I'd better call the police. They'll want to talk to you."
Luke shook his head, stuffing the note into his pocket. "They can't help me."
"But what about your wife?"
Luke handed a roll of bills to the clerk. "For the traveling suit."
"That isn't necessary."
"Yes, it is." He dropped it on the counter when she didn't take it from him.
"Don't you want to tell the police about your wife?" she asked again. "Do you know the man who left the note?"
"I'm the only one who can help her." He blinked and headed toward the door. Nothing mattered except saving her. Not even his precious freedom.
He retrieved Rosie from the hotel livery and stopped for minimal supplies and something else he swore he'd never own. A gun. Graham didn't have much of a head start, but he had one. The chances of Luke running across them in the wilderness were slim at best. Even so, he prodded Rosie to the fastest pace he dared, wishing now he had Sam's Lucifer.
He knew exactly where the bastard was taking Sofie. Though Luke didn't have a map or road signs to follow, he knew he could ride straight to that damned mountain blindfolded.
He knew it in his gut, because he was riding to his own death.
Chapter 22
Sofie recognized the terrain before they actually reached the mountain. At first, she thought Smith was taking her back to Redemption, but he headed farther north, toward the cave where their adventure through time had begun.
Why? The man hadn't spoken to her during their days of travel, except to hiss orders in his surreal voice. Even when she'd begged him to tell her why he'd kidnapped her and who he was, he'd refused to answer.
She knew in her heart that this man was after Luke. She had no idea why, but she was determined to protect her husband, no matter what.
When they reached the familiar mountain, Smith dragged her into the cave. A powerful stench slammed into her as Sofie stared at the high ceiling, the broken steel beams, light fixtures dangling by their cords. She knew only one thing for certain. This place was much more than merely a cave.
"Who are you?" she asked again as he dragged her through the debris toward a door at the rear.
"Justice," he hissed.
The guy had superhuman strength, fueled by his madness, no doubt. "Let me go." She jerked her arm, but his iron grip held fast. "Why are you doing this?"
He remained silent until they reached the door, where he dragged her through and slammed it behind them. They were in complete darkness, but it didn't smell as bad in here. Her captor's breathing sounded hollow and amplified in the confined space. She felt so vulnerable here in the dark with a madman. A tremor of pure terror replaced her anger. Did he intend to rape her?
He struck a match and lit a lantern. The room was filled with controls and gadgets–all broken and useless–and a computer sat in the corner. The entire mountain must have traveled back in time with them. Eerie.
Luke had said they were conducting some kind of electrical experiment that morning. He'd still been a prisoner then....
Prisoner...
The dizziness assaulted her again and she fell to her knees, clutching her head. Something exploded in her left temple as images soared past her mind's eye. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to decipher the flying pictures.
She saw Luke, bald and wearing the hospital gown. He looked terrified. And she saw herself trying to convince a man wearing a dark suit to listen to her, believe her, pay attention to her. Why?
Her usual nausea came and she drew great gulps of foul air, ignoring her captor's movements. She saw the suited man's eyes clearly now, glittering with a deranged and evil light. Hideous, terrifying eyes.
Familiar eyes.
"Oh, my God," she whispered, forcing her eyes open to stare at the hooded man. "You're from the future, too." She pushed to her feet, grabbing the edge of a broken desk to steady her. "You were here that morning."
"So the doctor remembers." Venom tinged his words. "You caused this. Prevented justice. Killed innocent people."
"Others?" Sofie's throat and eyes burned from the stench as she stared at him.
Smith shrugged. "You don't recognize the stench of rotting flesh, doctor?" His gaze intensified. "God works in mysterious ways. He spared only me to do His will."
There were dead bodies here. Sofie's stomach lurched and she broke into a cold sweat. She swallowed hard, struggling for control. Yes, dead bodies.
But she had to focus on here and now. On survival. "Who are you?" God, if she ever needed to remember, it was now. "Why are you doing this?"
Raspy, demonic laughter filled the room, but he stopped after a moment, seized by a violent fit of coughing. No longer dizzy, Sofie bolted for the door. His hand snaked out and grabbed a brutal fistful of her hair.
"Damn you, let me go." She spun around, punching and slapping, clawing at his hood. The back of his hand smashed into her face and flung her to the floor.
"See what you did?" He yanked off the hood.
Struggling to her feet, Sofie stared in horror. The man's scars were grotesque, his mouth twisted into a permanent snarl. If he weren't so vile and cruel, she would have chastised herself for her reaction. When she'd dressed his burns back in Redemption, she had no idea....
"Who are you?" she whispered again, biting back her rising terror. "Why are you doing this?"
"Carlton V. Graham," he said, leaning against the closed door and holding his chest. "Warden of this brand new federal penitentiary." He barked a derisive laugh. "Dispensing justice one...last...time."
Sofie shook her head, trying to sort through the man's crazy explanation. "This mountain was a prison and you were the warden?"
"I am the warden." Continuing to rub his chest with one gloved hand, he pulled the hood in place again with the other. "The first, the last...and the only warden."
Okay, so the guy had a motive for his demented behavior. He was obsessed. "I still don't understand why you're trying to hurt me."
"You caused this." He held his hands toward her, palms up. "You and your terrorist friends."
"Terrorist?" Sofie pressed down on the top of her head, trying to remember more. "No, I'm a doctor."
"Think so?" Obviously struggling to regain control of his rage, he picked up a length of rope and told her to turn around.
Sofie weighed her options. There was only one exit, and The Incredible Hulk wasn't about to let her leave. Would Luke know where she'd gone, or would he believe she'd left him?
The mere thought of hurting him brought tears to her eyes, but she blinked them back. She
would not show weakness.
"You still haven't told me why you kidnapped me," she said, holding her head high. "Why?"
"He'll come for you."
"Oh, God." Sofie swallowed hard, hope and fear mingling into a new, undefinable emotion. Luke would come for her. "You left a note."
"Of course." Graham pushed her shoulder until she turned her back to him, then he tied her wrists together. "Nolan will come soon."
"Don't hurt him." No longer able to hold back her tears, they spilled silently down her cheeks in scalding streams. "Please, don't hurt him."
"Your lover is a murderer."
"No." Sofie turned quickly to face the man. "No, he can't be a murderer. Besides, he was inno–"
"He claims innocence." Graham grabbed Sofie's upper arms in a bruising grip. "Nolan was found with the proverbial smoking gun. He was guilty all right."
"No." Her gentle Luke would never kill anyone. She couldn't accept that. "You're mistaken."
"So you say." Graham released her arms and moved to the door, turning to face her again with his hand on the knob. "For eleven years, I waited to see justice done. Eleven years..."
"He was waiting for justice, too," Sofie whispered. "Real justice."
"I postponed my retirement to see Nolan fry."
Fry? Sofie swayed, trying to understand. Realization made her stagger. She looked at Graham, finally comprehending where they were, and what the so-called electrical experiment had really been. "Oh, my God."
Graham clenched his fist, staring beyond her at something only he could see. "Six times, he was granted a last minute stay of execution." He met her gaze again. "Much more mercy than he showed his victim."
"Luke is innocent." Sofie's voice caught in her throat, but she refused to shed more tears. "He's innocent."
"Guilty." The warden shook his fist upward. "And I will carry out his sentence. It's my duty."
"Just let us go." Sofie cleared her throat. "It's 1891. Nobody cares."
"I care."
"Please, don't–"
"Do you remember how he looked that morning?" The maniacal gleam in Graham's eyes intensified. "They shaved all the hair off his body and head, then restrained him in the chair."
