No Safe Haven

by Kimberley Woodhouse

  "I had to tell her . . . that her daddy was dead."

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  JENNA

  April 11

  Sultana, Denali National Park

  4:23 a.m.

  "Jenna, I'm so sorry."

  She waved him off, swiping at the tears on her cheeks. "I know. It's okay. Just a really, really hard time for us." Jenna turned her head away for a moment, composing herself. "But things are better now. We're still dealing with the loss, and we still miss Marc . . . so much. But that day we all got on the plane, Andie and I were on our way home from her one-year checkup with the neurosurgeon. He'd given us such good news. I thought . . . I thought . . ."

  "What?"

  The tenderness in that word did her in. The dam broke. Sobs shook her as she forced out grief-filled words. "I thought things were finally changing . . . for the better. That we'd finally come out of the darkness."

  Silence engulfed her as her tears were spent. Cole sat watching her, his eyes a shimmery mirror of emotion. His jaw clenching and unclenching.

  "That's why you have to promise me, Cole."

  He frowned. "Promise you what?"

  "Promise that you'll take care of Andie if something happens to me."

  "Jenna, nothing is going to happen to you." He reached out and took her chin in his hands, so her eyes met his determined gaze. "I'm going to get you off this mountain. Both of you. I promise."

  She placed her hand over his. "Promise me, Cole. Please."

  Their gazes locked. Something sparked to life in his eyes, and Jenna started. If she hadn't known better, she'd think it was . . . passion.

  "I promise you, Jenna. I will take care of both of you."

  Searching his eyes, Jenna was stunned by a powerful realization. She believed him. Trusted him. But more than that . . .

  She wanted this man. For herself. And more than anything in that moment, she wanted to be held by him. To know she was safe and secure. "Cole, I—"

  His lips covered hers. The kiss was brief, but so intense Jenna thought she might be consumed by it. When Cole pulled back, she struggled to think straight.

  He pressed his forehead to hers. "I promise, Jenna."

  She searched his eyes. "Thank you." Jenna tried to catch her breath, but it was no use. This man stirred up her heart.

  A part of her deep inside, a part she thought had died forever when Marc was killed, screamed to come back to life. But instead, she broke the connection and turned her head away.

  Cole moved back, and cleared his throat. "Let's slide you all the way out, so I can redress your leg."

  Before she could reply, he scooted up to her head, grabbed hold of her sleeping bag, and slid her out into the open area. "Go ahead. Tell me more about Andie. It'll keep your mind off the pain while I take care of this."

  His hands probed her leg and pain shot through her. She gasped, then clenched her teeth and did as he suggested.

  "You know Marc was a brilliant computer programmer."

  Cole gave a slight nod, but kept his focus on her wound.

  She looked away and went on. "He could make a program for just about anything. And after he got out of the military, he was hired by the government to do some really secretive stuff. I don't know anything about it, but after his death, they contacted me for his research and the work he'd done. And they've been . . . insistent. Trouble is, I don't know where any of it is."

  Cole's hands stopped moving and he raised his head.

  "The phone calls and visits have been more frequent recently, and I'm tired of it. Marc made a lot of money, so he was obviously good at what he did. But that doesn't mean anyone has the right to hound us. And if he was working for them, shouldn't they know where his work is? Shouldn't they have his research? My husband is gone and Andie and I need to move on. We don't need to be harassed."

  He studied her for a moment, looked like he was going to say something, then nodded and went back to work on her leg.

  Jenna fell silent for a moment. What else should she tell him? "My best friend, Anesia, is the only other person who knows all the ins and outs of Andie's condition. She has copies of all the medical files and has been with me through all of this. In case something happens, she'll know what to do."

  "Jenna, you're going to be fine—"

  "Don't start with me, Cole. Just let me finish—" She bit her tongue. There she went. Getting all irritated with him again. And he was just trying to help.

  "Yes, ma'am." His eyes held a slight twinkle.

  "Oh, I'm sorry." Jenna laughed behind her hand. "I go overboard, I know. Just bear with me. My brain's getting fuzzy again." Her protective instinct as a mom must have given her a surge of adrenaline to make it this far. But the effort took its toll.

  "Go on."

  "This is important: Andie doesn't trust easily. Her best friend—Anesia's daughter, Zoya—means the world to her. And until you flew into our lives, Zoya was the only one besides me that Andie has let in since her father died."

  "But Andie seems like she would have lots of friends." It was more a statement than a question.

  "You're right. She has lots of friends. But she keeps most of them at a distance. Not in an unkind way, she just doesn't let too many people close. Does that make sense?"

  He shrugged his shoulders and looked away.

  "The point, Cole, is that Zoya and Andie have a special bond. It goes beyond anything I've ever seen."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, before we knew about Andie's brain condition, Zoya had what she described as a nightmare, but I think it was more a kind of premonition. Because she and Andie are so connected. She knew her best friend was about to go through a terrible time. From then on, she stuck to Andie like glue. Anesia wasn't sure what to make of it, so she told us about it saying Zoya was insistent. The bond between the two girls grew, and then a few days later, when we received Andie's diagnosis, we were shocked. We couldn't take it in, that a kid's nightmare could reflect real life."

  Tears threatened as all the grief of losing Marc washed over her again. But she needed to finish. Needed to go on. "Zoya didn't make a big deal of it. She didn't even want anyone to know, but she was so confident God had given her Andie as a friend that she thought He must've allowed her to have the dream so she could be a better friend to Andie in her time of need."

  "So what are you asking me? Not to make fun of Andie's friend? Or what?" Cole scratched his head.

  "I'm asking you to try to understand the bond between these girls. Because there's more."

  "Okay. Shoot."

  "The end of Zoya's dream was that Andie would lose someone close to her." She inhaled sharply, preparing for the stab of pain she knew would come after the next words. "And then Marc died."

  * * *

  LEAPER

  April 11

  Fairbanks Memorial Hospital

  Fairbanks, Alaska

  5:13 a.m.

  "Nothing, sir." Shadow stood at the foot of the bed. Face grim, jaw tight.

  Leaper narrowed his eyes. "Where did you look?"

  "The entire house. All the computers."

  "Gray wouldn't have had anything so easily accessible."

  "Yes, sir. But the wife's friend kept coming to check on the place."

  "No one saw you?"

  "No, sir."

  He ran a hand over his whiskered face. "We'll need to do a complete sweep of the entire property, but for that, we'll need to . . . occupy any suspicious friends."

  "Yes, sir. That may be a problem, sir. The friend, Anesia Naltsiine, has contacted the media. They've already discovered that the flight plan was canceled, and the controller at the tower caved when questioned about the flight taking off from Anchorage. He's in custody."

  He
slammed his hand on his leg. "North Korea is getting agitated. We need to deliver, and soon."

  "Agreed, sir." Shadow approached him. "So when can you leave?"

  "They won't say. But I plan on getting out of here tomorrow. Did you get everything I requested?"

  "Yes, sir. Your little stunt in the helo the other day cost you, didn't it?"

  "Just come get me tomorrow. 0900 sharp." With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the man.

  Staring at the beige walls, he imagined something different than this life he'd chosen. No covert activity. No sinister plots, weapons, or selling to the highest bidder.

  Yes, those beige walls were beginning to drive him mad. The sparse décor reminded him of a fresh start. Clean slate.

  Leaper shook his head and shifted to stare out the window. He'd been involved too many years to grow a conscience now. But why would his mind keep drifting in that direction if he was a hardened, greedy, self-serving . . . criminal?

  A new presence filled the room, and without even looking, he knew.

  Viper.

  The darkness of the man's heart poured out like his shadow. And as Leaper turned to give his boss his attention, the last glimmer of hope escaped and slipped through his fingers, like water trickling down the drain.

  * * *

  ZOYA

  April 11

  North Pole, Alaska

  5:16 a.m.

  An ear-splitting scream pierced the air.

  I ran in that direction. Large snowflakes fell, blocking my view. A loud roar thundered around me and the ground began to shake.

  A gunshot echoed on the ice walls that instantly shot out of the ground and surrounded me.

  Andie!

  Jumping up, I started running again. A chopper flew overhead, circling in the sky, looking for prey.

  Dark clouds emerged from the middle of the night sky, swirling in an unusual way. Fire spilled forth like a huge tornado just waiting for its chance at destruction.

  I looked over and saw Andie struggling in the arms of a man in black. They both stood still. The man shot up into the sky as if he had supernatural powers and then disappeared.

  Andie fell to the ground. I raced toward her.

  Dasha barked and the fiery tornado came closer. We ran for our lives.

  A wicked laugh echoed from the dark cloud and a face with red eyes and a snickering smile appeared. "You'll never make it alive."

  Something bumped into us, shoving us toward the ground.

  The strange being grabbed Andie, and I jumped forward to reach her. My face met something hard and I lay there unable to move from the force of the blow.

  Fire raced across the ground, heading right in her direction.

  Someone jumped and pushed her out of the way just before it hit.

  The ground shook and the evil laugh rang in my ears again. A giant hand reached toward me.

  "AHHHH!"

  I jerked up in my bed, heart hammering in my chest and face burning. The door to my room flew open as Mom rushed in.

  "Zoya, what's wrong?"

  Sweat trickled down my forehead. I was unable to speak.

  The dream replayed through my mind.

  "Zoya, Zoya!" Mom shook my shoulder and put a hand to my forehead.

  Tears spilled down my cheeks as realization set in.

  "Mom, something's happening to Andie! She's in trouble, we have to do something!" My face dripped with sweat and tears.

  Mom's worried expression met my eyes. My whole body trembled. The threatening words rang through my mind.

  You'll never make it alive.

  "Honey, shhh. It's okay. Just tell me what happened."

  I closed my eyes, not wanting to retell the awful dream.

  Okay . . . okay, you can do this, Zoya.

  As I retold the haunting scenes they became even more vivid. Once finished, another dream which I had promised to forget crept back into my already agitated mind.

  A hospital . . . pain. An endless wait.

  Death of someone dear.

  Before I knew what happened, Mom had her strong arms wrapped around me. "It's okay."

  "But what if—"

  "Shh. I know. I know. And I believe you."

  "They should've been home six days ago."

  "Yes, but we've done all we can." Mom pulled back. "We'll keep trying, but let's get some sleep and we'll figure this thing out tomorrow, okay?"

  I nodded.

  She kissed the top of my head. "Everything will work out."

  "Can we pray?"

  Mom nodded.

  We bowed our heads and asked God to help us find our friends and to keep them safe.

  "Get some sleep." Mom pushed me down to the bed. "It'll be okay, you'll see."

  As she exited the room, she flicked off the lights and the room darkened. The door creaked closed and I heard the thump thump thump of her steps as she walked away. The hall light stayed on.

  "You'll never make it alive . . ."

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  COLE

  April 11

  Sultana, Denali National Park

  5:18 a.m.

  He studied her profile. Jet black hair, smooth skin, perfect lips. Her native Athabaskan heritage evident, and he'd never seen anyone more beautiful. Not even Amanda. Thoughts of his wife flooded him. Once again, he'd betrayed her memory. What kind of fool was he?

  "Cole?"

  "Uh huh?"

  "What are you staring at?"

  He blinked several times. Good night, she caught him. "Sorry. What were you saying?"

  "I was telling you about Andie's friend Zoya."

  "Uh huh."

  "Cole!"

  "What? I'm listening. The kid had a dream. "

  Jenna reached a hand toward him. "I can see I've overwhelmed you, and frankly, I'm too tired to go on."

  He looked into her eyes. She must be in an incredible amount of pain. "I'm sorry, Jenna. I'll get something for the pain." He needed the distraction.

  She gripped his hand with a strength he wasn't expecting. And she wouldn't let go. "Cole, tell me."

  "Tell you what?" Did she know how he felt? How could she read him so well?

  "How bad is my leg?"

  Relief washed over him at her question, but quickly faded as the answer sank in. He raked his other hand through his hair as she squeezed the hand she held. She deserved the truth. But it hurt to think of the complications. "It's infected. Not gangrenous, but we need to be careful."

  She closed her eyes and nodded.

  "I cleaned it, applied more antibiotic cream, and rebandaged it, but . . ."

  Her gaze locked with his. "But what?"

  "It can't heal at this elevation. I've got to get you off this mountain. And soon." He reached into the bag and pulled out the Tylenol. "Here. Take this, and then get some sleep. You need rest."

  "Okay." She nodded again, as if accepting an unavoidable fate. After a few sips of water and swallowing the pills, she lay back down. "Did you find the sleds?"

  "Only one. There's a little food and water, but at least it was the one with the radios."

  Jenna's eyes flashed at him and she attempted to sit up. "But I thought you said it wasn't safe to use the radio?"

  "It's not. We don't know who could be listening in. But once I get you down to the glacier, we might just have to."

  "What if they come back?"

  "I'm hoping they've given up. At least for now."

  She leaned her head back and sighed. "Okay. You've gotten us this far."

  "Jenna, I will do everything in my power to get you guys to safety and protect you. You know that, don't you?"

  "Yeah. Just don't forget you
r promise . . ." Her eyes closed, the grip on his hand went limp.

  "I won't forget," Cole whispered and touched her forehead.

  The woman confused him on so many levels.

  He slid his hand over to her silky hair. So black it held a hint of blue. Running his hand down a lock, he rubbed the soft strands between his fingers.

  Get a grip, Maddox!

  Cole leaned back against the icy wall and reined in his thoughts. She made him promise. Begged him. But what if it was all a lie? Could she know more than she let on?

  And what about her faith? Andie was outspoken with hers. But Jenna . . . she held everything close. Quietly watching and guarding . . .

  He turned away from Jenna. How did they do it? How had this one woman and one young girl peeled back his carefully constructed layers in such a short time? Now all he wanted was to know more about them.

  Marc had shared pictures and stories of his family, but his own pain prevented him from paying close attention. There never seemed to be a way to heal. Until now.

  Memories assaulted him again. He shut his eyes. Nine long years.

  But it seemed like yesterday . . .

  ———

  It was good to be home.

  Hard to believe he'd been in Pakistan the night before. Amanda urged him to sleep in, but his body's clock was off. As his beautiful wife glided into the room, a steaming breakfast plate in her hand, he watched with a smile, then pulled her into the bed beside him.

  "I'll share." He winked, enjoying her warmth. Man, he missed her when he was called away.

  Their toddler—hair sticking straight out of her head, with teddy bear in tow—appeared in the doorway. "Me too! Me too!" She jumped on the bed.

  "Careful, you little wiggle worm," Amanda chided. "We don't want to spill Daddy's breakfast."

  "'Kay, Mommy. I be careful."

  Chloe sidled up next to him, molding her little three-year-old frame to his side and placing her hand on his chest. It never ceased to amaze him how that one tiny touch could heal so many sore spots inside his heart. The missions became harder and harder to distance himself from.