Damn. She’d just dug herself a hole. Tension seeped into her stomach. Neither spoke again until they reached the small town of Woss, the last stop on their road into the wilderness.
But the issue hung heavy and unresolved in the air between them.
“This is where we get more gas. I’d better check oil and tires, as well.” Scott pulled into a gas station. “Could you give Honey a run while I see to the vehicle? I bought her a ball at the mall, it’s in the back.”
“Sure.” Skye felt as though she needed a run herself. But it was a knee-jerk reaction. She knew that. Every time it looked as if her secret world was closing in on itself, she ran. She’d promised herself in Chemainus that would stop. That she would trust Scott. But the closer he came to her core, the greater her urge to flee. And to stay.
God, she was a mess.
She took the dog and the ball, made for the small park across the street.
Scott filled the car, checked oil and tires, paid for his purchases, then pulled into a parking lot alongside the pumps. He could see Skye and Honey playing ball in the distance. He activated the code on his sat phone, quickly punched in Rex’s number. He didn’t have much time before she’d be back.
The Bellona boss was waiting for his call. Rex picked up on the first ring. Scott cut to the chase. “You meet with our RCMP guy?”
“Yeah. Your tail, it’s not them. Feds lost you in Haven.”
Scott grunted. “Thought as much. Then who the hell is after her?”
“You get a plate?”
Scott gave him the number of the dark green Dodge.
“I’ll check into it.” There was a new undertone in Rex Logan’s voice.
Scott didn’t like it. “So what is the deal with the RCMP? What do they want from Skye?”
His boss hesitated. “Agent, this is blowing right open. You need to bring the doctor in.”
Something cold dropped through Scott’s gut. “Whoa, wait just a minute. Why don’t you fill me in, let me make that decision.”
Rex cleared his throat but his tone remained crisp. “Jozsef Danko is not Jozsef Danko.”
“What?”
“Our liaison said the RCMP were investigating him for a money-laundering deal connected with an organized crime syndicate out of Quebec. But the RCMP detectives ran into a bit of a turf issue in Quebec because Canada’s Security Intelligence Service was already investigating the syndicate for having possible financial ties to a terrorist organization.”
“Anubis?”
“You got it. It turns out one of the men CSIS has been watching for in connection with this syndicate is—”
“Danko.”
“That’s his cover. His real name is Balto Nakiskas. He’s a Greek national. And he’s a known Anubis operative.”
Scott’s stomach tightened. “Skye’s fiancé was a known terrorist?”
“You’ve got to bring the doctor in, Scott. She’s wanted for questioning by just about every agency you can imagine now. RCMP, CSIS and FBI just for starters. Especially after they learned of the Bellona angle.”
Scott’s mouth went as dry as the Thar desert. He glanced up, saw Skye in the park across the street. He watched her throw the ball for Honey. She moved with the tensile strength, fluidity and grace of a dancer…or a martial arts expert.
She sensed him watching. She stopped, looked up, waved. He waved back, a sick, slow dread crawling low through his gut. She smiled and with a flick of her long hair, picked up the ball, threw it for Honey. The retriever bounded after it in innocent glee.
Scott’s brain reeled. A Greek Anubis operative marrying Skye. Her Anubis tattoo. The insects. Her travels.
“Agent, you there?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“We need you to bring Dr. Van Rijn in ASAP.”
He stalled. “How do they think she’s connected?”
“They believe she’s working with Nakiskas.”
No. Scott rubbed his brow viciously. No. He could not believe Skye knew Jozsef was a fake. No way. Her pain had been too honest, too real.
He thought of her Greek mumblings in her sleep.
Or had it?
“They find anything in her house to prove it?” He barked the question.
“No. But they did seize her computer. Turns out it’s been accessed remotely for some time. Her system was linked to the Kepplar lab system. There’s been an information security breach there, as well.”
“So they think she’s been feeding Kepplar technology to someone?”
“Maybe. Or it could be a hacker. I’ve got Scooter working on it. He’s following a highly sophisticated electronic trail. The electronic footprints are leading him around the world, being routed and rerouted again. And whoever has had access to her computer has been hitting your McIntyre alias Web site.”
“How do you know?”
“Same footprints.”
Skye and Honey were leaving the park, starting to cross the street. Scott’s fingers curled tight around his sat phone. He felt sick to his stomach. Had she been scamming him all along? Was this wedding thing some kind of elaborate setup? And if it wasn’t the cops or CSIS or the FBI tailing them in Duncan…who in hell was it?
And why?
It just wasn’t adding up.
And he sure as hell wasn’t ready to hand her over. Yet.
“You bringing her in, Agent?”
He cleared his throat. “No.”
“Pardon?”
“I said no. Buy me some time. Tell them anything. I can get more out of her this way.” He wanted her to tell him herself. He wanted to hear the story from her lips. Because he couldn’t believe she was a coldhearted liar. A liar, yes, but coldhearted, no. There had to be some reason, some explanation, something they weren’t seeing. Because his deep-down, primal gut instinct told him this woman was too kind, too inherently good.
He trusted his instincts.
Whatever Skye had gotten herself into, it wasn’t this. But he couldn’t deny the stakes had just been raised.
High.
Real high.
“Agent—”
“I’m getting close to her, Logan. You’ve got to trust me on this one.”
“How close, Armstrong?”
Scott read the loaded meaning in Rex Logan’s words. “Logan, trust me. I’ve never let you down before.”
“Let’s keep it that way.” He sounded unsure. “I’ll see what I can do. I might be able to buy you a day or so. No more.”
“Thanks.” He hung up. He knew Rex was going out on a limb here. And, so was he.
Was he throwing away a last shot at getting his old life back? Maybe he had fried his brain in the desert sands.
Scott slowly slid his phone into his pocket, watched Skye cross the street, her hand hooked into Honey’s collar. She looked as supple and strong as a tall willow branch. Sunshine deflected off the dark gloss of her hair, revealing deep burgundy glints.
He rubbed his aching knee, the knee Anubis rebels had blown out. Could he be wrong about her? Could she be allied, however remotely, to his nemesis, La Sombra?
She came close enough for him to see the bright light of innocent exhilaration in her eyes, the blush of exercise on her cheeks.
Adrenaline, anger and something utterly foreign, spiked in his system, clashed. The cocktail exploded violently in his veins.
He flung open the SUV door, stepped out, swallowed the bolt of pain in his knee, took two strides toward her.
She looked up into his eyes, froze.
He grabbed her shoulders, pulled her aggressively to him. Her lips parted in shock.
He closed his mouth down hard over hers, thrust his tongue between her lips, ran it across the smooth ridge of her teeth, met the slick warmth of her tongue.
She tasted sinfully sweet. Wild. And so female. So alive.
Hot liquid lust spurted through his belly, boiled with anger. Anger at Anubis. At her. For making him feel. At Bellona…the whole bloody world.
He
furiously deepened his kiss.
She didn’t resist.
He slid his hand down to the small of her back, grasped the firm globe of her behind, yanked her closer, forcing her breasts hard up against his chest, her pelvis up against his groin.
She melted smoothly into him, met his urgency with her mouth. Her own appetite for him drove him near wild.
He needed her to be innocent, goddammit.
Because otherwise he had to destroy her. He had to take her down to make his life whole again.
He felt her smooth hand against his cheek, guiding his kiss. His heart pounded hard up against the full, feminine warmth of her breasts. He drank in the scent of her hair, felt the silk of it against his face.
He pulled her pelvis up higher against his thigh. If he didn’t stop now—
He jerked back.
Shock, untamed passion, swam through her exotic features. She stared up at him, unfocused eyes as wild and lucid as a silver dawn sky, lips plumped, pink, from the rough force of his kiss.
He held her at arm’s length, a hand planted solid on each shoulder, just looked at her. “God, you’re beautiful.”
“Scott?” Confusion furrowed her brow.
“Come.” He slid his arm around her shoulders, ushered her to the car. “Let’s get you out of harm’s way.”
He fired the ignition, set course for the hills.
And he told himself whatever she was hiding, he’d find it. Because now this was personal.
And if she was an innocent victim, a pawn caught in deadly international crossfire, he needed to protect her.
With his life.
And if she was playing him as a pawn, he had to be prepared to take her life.
Before she took his.
Skye moistened her lips. She felt as though a million microscopic bees were buzzing confusedly through her system. A swarm dislodged from a safe hive by a searing hot jab clean through to her core.
It was cousin to panic, but not quite.
Jittery. She felt jittery. But not quite.
She sucked air deep into her lungs, blew it out slowly. She didn’t even want to compute how she felt. The volcanic potency of his kiss had left her plain shell-shocked. It had been so proprietary, so male, so dominant…so sudden. It had exploded from somewhere down deep within him like an ancient long-buried force that could no longer be held in check under a shifting surface.
The sheer power of it awed her.
Because it had totally undone her in the most elemental way. She knew if ever confronted with that power again, she would be utterly defenseless in the face of it.
She stole a glance at the man beside her.
What had happened?
What had changed in him?
He seemed imbued with an electric power, determination. It literally vibrated around him. She could feel the crackling silent force of it against the surface of her skin.
Yet his limbs were relaxed, his movements calm, incredibly controlled as he steered their vehicle higher and higher into the mountains, into the wild.
He sensed her looking, flashed his eyes toward her.
Her breath caught. She could not only feel it, she could see it. In those bottle-green eyes, a fierce intensity crackled like sparking flame.
And it ignited the cocktail of panic and sharp, heady anticipation already simmering in her core.
Again she tried to moisten her lips. Her mouth was dry.
She’d felt something like this once before.
In the training camp.
The first time she’d had to leap from the open door of a plane.
Her greatest fear had been that her chute would fail her.
But the parachute had always opened. And the experience had always been beyond words.
But she’d had to make that first jump. She’d had to trust that chute to open.
Skye forced her attention back to the map on her lap.
They were nearing the turnoff to Henderson’s place. It was easy to miss. It had no signage. It was just an old, deactivated logging road that would take them the last couple of miles to the isolated cabin.
But as they climbed higher into the mountains, thick dank mist rolled down to engulf them. The drizzle that had started an hour ago turned to hard, spitting sleet.
Skye peered through the windshield, seeking a familiar landmark. But up ahead, the air was even darker, the clouds lower, swollen and puce with their burden. It was impossible to identify anything.
The temperature dropped steadily as they gained elevation. She shivered involuntarily.
“How are we doing?” Scott motioned with his jaw to the map in her hands.
“The road should be just ahead now.”
A sharp crack split the air.
Honey and Skye convulsed in unison.
Thunder rumbled around them. The dog whimpered slightly in the back seat.
“I love a good storm. Makes me feel alive.” His voice growled low like the thunder. “What about you, Doctor? You like a good storm?”
“I…I’ve gotten used to the tameness of the weather around Haven.”
“Monotonous, predictable.”
“Maybe. But safe.”
A bolt of light slashed through the blackness ahead of them. Clouds clashed. Snarled. Skye’s heart hit like a jackhammer against her rib cage. She rubbed damp palms on her jeans. With every mile into the wilderness, she felt even edgier.
He threw her a look, challenged with his eyes. “Is that what you want, Doctor? Safe?”
“Yeah. Right now I want safe.”
The expression on his face changed slightly. “You really do believe these people want to kill you.”
It wasn’t a question this time.
“I do.”
“What makes you think you’ll be safe at the cabin?”
“You.” She tried to smile. Thunder clapped. Light split the sky.
His face remained dark. Feral. Eyes alive with the energy of the storm. He flicked them at her. And suddenly she wasn’t so sure.
“And after the cabin?”
She hadn’t managed to think that far. The idea was to come up with a plan while she laid low. “I—I don’t know,” she whispered.
The hardness lifted slightly from his features. “Skye, you have to talk to me. If you want me to help you, you’ll have to tell me exactly what’s going on.”
“I—”
Scott slammed on the brakes.
Tires shrieked.
Skye gasped, lurched forward, snapped back against the restraint of her seat belt. The SUV skidded sideways over the slick mountain road. Scott yanked the wheel, fought back.
The Land Rover fishtailed, veered to the edge of the cliff. Nothing below but a sheer drop. Skye held her breath, scrunched her eyes shut. The world spun in sickening gray and screaming tires.
Scott steered deftly into the skid, hit the brakes again, came to a halt—just inches from the edge.
He cut the engine.
The silence inside the car was suddenly deafening.
Just the clack of sleet on their hull, the thud of hearts in chests.
They stared.
It stood in front of them in the middle of the road. A gray wolf. It didn’t move. For an instant, Skye thought she was seeing a vision held captive by swirling fingers of cold mist.
Its eyes gleamed yellow. It glared back at them. But in spite of the ferocity in its stare, it was thin. Frail. Its fur patchy. It favored its hind leg.
It looked so very sad. Alone. Defiant.
Scott wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. It shook slightly.
“It’s a wolf,” Skye whispered. Behind her a low growl came from deep in Honey’s throat. The retriever’s eyes were locked with those of the wolf.
“It looks sick.” She kept her voice to a whisper.
“He’s old. A male.”
“He looks so wild.”
Scott’s voice was rough. “He is the wild. The wolf is a symbol, a lone voice of the wild
erness.” He spoke with such sudden intensity, his eyes locked with those of the spectral apparition on the road in front of them.
“He looks lost,” she whispered.
“He was probably the alpha male of his group. But his time has come. Look at his patchy pelt. And he’s been injured. He’s been kicked out of his pack, the only society he knows. He’s been left to fend for himself. Alone. Left to die.” Something caught in the gravel of his voice.
“Won’t they take him back?”
“No. It’s the way of nature.”
Skye turned to look at the man. His jaw was clenched, his knuckles white on the wheel of the SUV.
“Maybe the wolf will heal, Scott. Maybe he’ll find his way back.”
“No. Those who were his allies will turn on him. There’s no room in the wild for a broken warrior.”
She studied his face. Not once since she had met Scott McIntyre had she seen this kind of emotion etched into his features. Not once had she noticed such tension in his hands. “You…you sound like you know him, Scott.”
Her words snapped something in him, hauled him back from wherever it was he’d gone in his mind. He shut down. Instantly.
And the wolf was gone.
As suddenly as he’d appeared out of the gray mists, he vanished. Like a ghost into the storm. Skye blinked, wondering if she’d seen him at all, imagined the whole thing.
Scott reached into the back seat to calm Honey, who was still quivering. “It’s okay, girl. Just a distant cousin of yours. One without your domestic sensibilities.”
He started the ignition, shifted gears. Both mentally and physically.
But Skye had glimpsed something. For that brief instant, he’d left himself exposed. And she’d seen pain. The same simmering ancient pain reflected in the eyes of the wolf. This hard, weather-beaten man with bewitching green eyes had more than an injured leg. His soul, his spirit, had been somehow damaged. Like the wolf. He, too, had lost his family, perhaps the only real family he’d ever known. And it touched her, more deeply than it should. It made her want to reach out, to touch him. To help him like he was helping her.
But she held back.
Sympathy would only shut him down further.
They drove on in silence, rain coming down in an icy sheet. The road grew more slick. Small rivers formed, gushed along the shoulders of the narrow mountain highway. Trees swayed dangerously in the mounting wind.
Safe Passage Page 15
