Fully Loaded

by Samantha Keith

  A tremble overtook her body, and she swept her tongue over her bottom lip. His gaze dropped to the movement and his hands curled into fists at his side. Her fingers throbbed to reach out and grab his face, to wrap her legs around his waist and lose herself in the words he’d just said. A dark stain tinted his cheeks and her heartbeat roared in her eardrums. An animalistic glint shone in his eyes, as though he were a predator about to pin his prey. Her loins clenched and the lips between her legs throbbed.

  God, she needed him. Now.

  He clicked his tongue and ran his palm over his face. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” He took a step back and turned away from her, breaking the static electricity that arced between their bodies. “We’d better get on the train before those passports are reported stolen.”

  CHAPTER 10

  If he didn’t stop staring at her out of the corner of his eye, he’d draw attention to them. But for the life of him, he couldn’t help it. Her new look drove him wild. He glanced at the clock above the train terminal. Any minute and they’d be on their way out of Switzerland. She wore his old baseball cap over her long, dark hair and had traded the sweatshirt in for a long-sleeved heather-blue shirt and light-wash jeans that sculpted her supple thighs and ass. She’d been a stunning blonde, and she’d never, not once in their history together, dyed her hair. It was likely just shock that kept dragging his eyes to the so familiar yet now so different woman he’d been in love with.

  “I’ve been thinking,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “About?”

  “The tracking device.” She tipped her head toward him, and he lowered his ear closer to her mouth. “When I escaped out the window, I left my phone. I went back for it and the . . . object, and I found my phone on the floor. They probably knew I’d be back and planted it so they could find me.”

  “Yeah, I bet that’s exactly what happened.”

  She mumbled a curse. It sounded foreign on her delicate breath. “I wish I’d thought to check. God, I feel dumb.”

  He settled his hand on her shoulder and gave her a shake. Only her profile was visible, but the crimson hue to her ear hinted that she was pissed at herself.

  “Don’t do that. You’re one of the smartest people I know, and why the hell would it have crossed your mind to check for a tracking device, especially in that critical moment? You’re alive because you outsmarted them.”

  She patted his fingers. “Thanks.”

  He gave her a squeeze and lowered his hand. He’d meant every word. Had anyone else been in that apartment instead of her—himself included—they’d probably be dead. Dani kept her nose in a travel book, but she never shifted more than an inch away from his body. She was doing a damn good job of not drawing attention to her face, but there was no way in hell the other men on the platform weren’t checking her out. Maybe she should have stayed disguised as a man.

  He scanned the faces around them. Every rustle or chirp of a phone called his attention. A horn blasted and Dani jumped as if a gun had gone off. He rested his palm on her back and her stiff spine returned to its natural position.

  Hard steel sat at the small of his back. European train stations had the worst security he’d ever witnessed—not a single metal detector. And only the odd police officer strolled through the station. Although it was a good thing they hadn’t had to ditch their weapons, anyone who was after them would get through just as easily. Dani hadn’t been comfortable carrying her gun, so he’d rolled it into a shirt and placed it in his carry-on bag.

  The train whooshed to a stop in front of them, blowing hot air over his skin. Like cattle, everyone on the platform moved onto the vessel. Dani walked ahead of him, but he stayed within reach. One row of single seats lined each side of the train. She stopped at one with a vacant seat across the aisle and sat down. He scooted into the seat directly across from her.

  “How long is this one again?” she asked.

  “Two and a half hours till our next stop in Zurich. Sleep if you can.”

  She snorted. “Yeah right.”

  “It’ll be another five hours after that before we get to France.” He watched as the rest of the train filled. Dani flipped open her book until everyone was in their seats and the train pulled out of the station. White-capped mountains lay beyond the windows. The view was beautiful, but fatigue weighed down his eyelids as the train jostled along the tracks.

  No way could he risk falling asleep. He reached into the bag at his feet and pulled out Sven’s phone. Their plan was to search Sven’s apartment to find some indication of who’d hired him. Odds were the company or individuals had already searched it and confiscated his belongings. Regardless, he and Dani needed to get out of Switzerland, and being in the same city as the organization that wanted Chrisolicom XII would be the best way to unravel this fucking mess.

  He fired up Sven’s phone and checked his Gmail account. An hour later, Brock was ready to throw the fucking thing off the train. Nothing. How had he been so damn careful? He glanced at Dani. Her head lolled to the side, the travel book facedown in her lap.

  He rubbed the heel of his palm on his forehead. A tension headache that had started at his nape pulsed behind his eyes. He massaged his neck and stared at the ceiling. There had to be something he wasn’t seeing, something he was overlooking. Sven was too big a player in this game to assume he’d been a pawn. He scanned the heads of the passengers for the dozenth time. The familiar blue Facebook icon lit the screen in the hand of the passenger in front of Dani.

  Lifting Sven’s phone, Brock touched the Facebook app. Like most people, Sven had stayed logged in. He spent the next half hour flipping through pictures and stalking Sven’s friends’ profiles. A stunning picture of the Swiss Alps towering over a golf course made him stop scrolling. Sven stood in the center of the green with three other men. Two wore visors and the other man and Sven wore baseball hats, obscuring their features. He looked at the date. The picture had been snapped four months ago. He zoomed in on Sven’s neck—no sign of the tattoo. He shifted his attention to the other men’s collars. Nothing.

  He pushed a sigh through his teeth. For fuck’s sake. He was about to track his thumb across the screen to move to the next picture, but a tiny flash of black caught his eye. He stopped and narrowed his gaze on the dude to Sven’s left. On the man’s bicep, the curled tips of the bottom of a pentagon were unmistakable.

  Sonofabitch.

  He unbuckled his seatbelt, crouched next to Dani, and cupped his hand over her wrist to shake her. Soft snores breezed through her lips and he stopped. He gripped Sven’s phone more tightly and stood. This was important, but it could wait. He wouldn’t wake her.

  “Brock?”

  Regret clawed at his insides. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  She rubbed her eyes with her palms and then groaned. “Ugh. I forgot I’m wearing makeup.” She sat forward and wiped her fingertips beneath her lids, where her mascara had smeared. “What’s up?”

  He returned to his position on the floor and glanced at the passengers around them. Two were asleep, the others had their faces buried in books or devices.

  “Remember the tattoo we talked about?”

  She pursed her lips and lifted her gaze. “Oh, yeah. Sven’s?”

  So much for discretion. “Yeah, let’s keep it down though.”

  She grimaced. “Sorry, my brain doesn’t work right after I’ve been asleep. You should know that,” she said with a chuckle.

  The reference to the soft, silly moments of their past made his heart swell. He’d always teased her for being a sleepy mouse for damn near an hour after waking up.

  “What about it?”

  He forced the image of the tousled blonde hair and sleepy aqua eyes that he’d once cherished waking up to every morning from his mind and coughed until the thickness in his throat moved.

  “I think it’s gang or cult related. Look at this.” He held the device below the window and low enough that nosy passengers wou
ldn’t see. “Right here.” He pointed to the guy’s arm.

  She took the phone, zoomed in on the image, and stared at it for several moments. “I don’t see one on . . . him though.”

  “This photo was taken four months ago. So he would have gotten the ink between the time of the photo and the time he called you to come to Geneva.”

  She scrunched her face. “I’m not sure that’s anything concrete. I mean, I can see the connection, but we didn’t see all of his tattoo, and this guy’s is half hidden as well. How can we be sure it’s the same?”

  “I saw his.” He stretched across the aisle, pulled a pen from his bag, then took the book from her lap. “Mind?”

  She shook her head. He found a blank spot on one of the pages and, propping the book on her lap for a somewhat steady surface, began to sketch the tattoo from memory. “The little bit of his tattoo that showed creeped me out enough to peel down his collar and look.” He drew the pentagon first, then the animal head, then added the curls to the tips of the star.

  Dani’s breath hissed through her mouth. “What is that?”

  “I have no fucking clue,” he said.

  She swallowed hard. “We need to find out. I mean, if it’s any kind of organization, it has to be documented somewhere.”

  He clicked the pen and scoffed. “Any ideas?”

  She tapped her chin. “I think I know who we can call.”

  * * *

  “I don’t think this is such a good idea,” Brock said, his tone whiny. Dani took a huge bite of the salad she’d grabbed at the Zurich train station. They had a forty-minute layover. She couldn’t remember what the next stop was, but they had three before they reached Paris.

  “If Milo trusts him, we can too.”

  Brock clicked his jaw and she shoved another bite of salad into her mouth. “I’ll call him.”

  Looking affronted, he clapped his hand over his phone on the table. “I can do it. Milo texted me his number the other day. You eat.”

  He stood and paced to a less crowded area of the food court. Unable to stand the suspense, Dani looped her bag across her chest, tucked her water bottle under her arm, and carried her salad to stand next to him.

  “—yeah, that’s right. It’s all over the news.” A beat passed. “No. As of right now I haven’t been tied to anything.” He relayed more details, and Dani watched as he curled his lip or rubbed his thumb and forefinger together with every answer.

  Oh god, if they’d really just screwed everything up because of her she wouldn’t be able to live with herself. And if Serena saw the news, she’d have a fucking heart attack.

  “Uh-huh. Yeah, we figured that.” Brock rolled his eyes and her stomach dived. She lowered her salad and brought her hand to her chest. Brock quickly waved at her to continue eating.

  “What I really need is for you to look into a symbol for us—a tattoo. We think it could connect us to who’s behind this . . . act.” Silence. “I saw it. I don’t have an exact image, but I can send you a sketch.” Silence again. “Yeah, you can reach us on this phone. If something changes, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Brock disconnected. “Do you have that book?”

  She pulled it from her bag and held it open to the page, being careful to keep it down and out of sight from passersby. Brock snapped a picture and tapped the screen of the encrypted phone.

  “There. He’s going to look into it.”

  “What else did he say?”

  He pocketed the phone and dragged a hand through his hair. “Oh, you know.” His gaze darted to the people moving around them. He lowered his face closer to hers. “Just that you’re wanted for bioterrorism, I’d be considered an accomplice if caught with you, and if we both survive the next twenty-four hours, we’ll spend life in prison.” He flashed a smile at her but the bottom of her stomach plummeted. “Real pep-talker. Let’s get to our terminal.”

  Twenty minutes later they were settled on the train. This time they had two seats side by side and another set of seats facing them. Dani pulled the baseball cap down low over her eyes. So far, no one had stared, no one had asked her for identification, and no bad guys seemed to be after them. They had three more stops to keep that streak up. If they made it to Paris and a hotel uneventfully, she might just sleep easy tonight. And if no one sat across from them, even better.

  “Isaac! Please don’t touch other people’s stuff.” A woman came bustling down the aisle with a baby girl about a year old on her hip and a boy who couldn’t be more than four years old. “Sorry, es tut mir leid.” She kept her hand on the boy’s shoulder as she read the row and seat numbers printed above them. Then she moved to sit directly across from them.

  Shit. Dani gave her a tentative smile and then tucked her chin low and opened her book.

  “Hi, I’m Annette. This is Rosie and Isaac, as you probably heard.”

  Brock chuckled. “I’m Ian and this is my wife—Jezebel.”

  Dani fought the urge to screw up her face at his choice of name and smiled. The little girl with strawberry blonde hair and cherubic cheeks grinned and pointed at Dani, then waved. It had been a long time since she’d been around kids, but only four years ago, she’d planned to have several babies with Brock.

  Unable to resist the chubby, outstretched hand, she let the little girl curl her fingers around hers. “You’re just the sweetest thing I’ve ever met.” Dani couldn’t keep the coo from her voice.

  Annette laughed. “Let her warm up to you first.”

  The train rumbled and they pulled out of the station. Baby Rosie bounced in her mother’s lap and Isaac swung his legs back and forth as if he were on a swing. His shoes scuffed against Brock’s bag, but if Brock cared he didn’t show it.

  “You look so familiar. I’m sure we’ve never met, but your face . . . I swear I’ve seen it.” Annette squinted as if trying to place her.

  Panic flooded her, and she averted her gaze while shaking her head. “I just have one of those familiar faces.”

  “She does,” Brock said, a big smile on his face. “She gets told that all the time.”

  Rosie let out a high-pitched wail and Annette fumbled in her bag. “Ugh. I’m sorry, I swear I have a toy in here somewhere . . .”

  “Here.” Dani pulled out her half-empty water bottle. “Maybe she’ll like this.”

  Rosie gripped the bottle with both hands and shook. “Bubbles!” she shrieked, and then laughed hysterically.

  Brock threw his head back and roared, and several people next to them smiled and admired the darling girl.

  “Mommy, I have to pee,” Isaac said, tugging her shirt.

  Annette’s face fell, and she swiveled in her seat. The restroom was several rows behind her. “Can you wait until the next stop, honey? I won’t be able to hold your sister and help you.”

  “No! I have to go now,” he whined.

  “I can hold her if you’d like,” Dani said.

  Relief melted the woman’s face. “Oh, would you? I mean, I would normally never ask a stranger to do that . . . but I don’t think there’s anywhere to run.”

  Dani smiled. “I’d love to.”

  Annette passed Rosie to her, grabbed her son’s hand, and ushered him toward the nearest bathroom. Rosie shook the water bottle and then offered it to Brock.

  “For me? Why, thank you.” He took the bottle, shook it ferociously, and passed it back to her. Rosie pumped her legs with excitement and held up the bottle. “Bubbles!” she cried again.

  Brock tickled her beneath her chin, and she let loose another laugh. “God, she’s adorable.”

  Dani bounced the toddler on her lap. “Want to hold her?”

  “Sure.” He scooped her up and stood her on his lap. She squealed, lifted the water bottle, and brought it down on his head. Brock shook his head exaggeratedly and another hysterical laugh ripped from her little belly. Six pearly teeth revealed themselves.

  Dani stifled her laugh with her hand and Brock grinned. He lowered Rosie so she sat on his lap, but she s
crambled to stand again. Then she reached up, grabbed his hat, and threw it into the middle of the aisle.

  “Shit,” he mumbled.

  “I’ll get it.” Dani stepped over his outstretched legs and bent to scoop up the hat. As she straightened, her gaze fell on a middle-aged woman who was staring at her with laser focus. Her brown eyes darkened, and she turned to look out the window.

  A ball of fear wound itself up in Dani’s chest. Her blood pressure spiked, and she fought the urge to grab Brock and run. All the blood left her head and rushed to her toes. There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. If the woman tipped off one of the crew members, the cops would be waiting at the next stop. She handed Brock the hat, returned to her seat, and leaned into his shoulder.

  “I think we’re being watched.”

  CHAPTER 11

  As soon as the train stopped, Brock steered Dani down the aisle with his hand between her shoulder blades, pushing past the other passengers. Someone yelped and made a sound of annoyance. Dani’s hushed apology reached his ears, but he urged her on. He threw a glance over his shoulder and the woman Dani had spotted watching them stood. Shit.

  They stepped off the train and he led Dani into the station and to a small nook where a wall of vending machines waited. He pressed her back to one of the tall boxes and yanked some items from his bag.

  “Here, put this over your hair,” he said, passing her a light blue beany. She fit the material over her head and combed her hair to the side. He yanked a navy-blue shirt overtop of the one he wore and swapped his hat for the brown fedora he’d bought at the last depot. He watched while Dani fit her arms into a white zip-up hoodie.

  “I’m glad we thought to buy a change of clothes just in case. We should get to our terminal. If we’re quick enough she might not catch us.”

  Brock firmed his mouth and kept his body pressed to Dani’s while he peered around the edge of the vending machine. “No. That’s what they’d expect us to do. We’re better off letting them think we left already. We can catch a later train.”