Three Weeks Last Spring

by Howard, Victoria

  Now he was confused, at the very least he expected her to argue with him. Instead, she meekly agreed to his suggestion. She surprised him further by rolling out one of the loungers from under the shade of the deck and taking her coffee to drink in the sun.

  Walker wondered what had brought about this change in Skye's demeanor. He hadn’t said or done to ingratiate himself into her good books, so what had made her accept his presence in the cabin? After tying his brain up in knots for most of the morning and giving himself an even bigger headache, he decided that figuring out what Skye was up to was an impossible task. He could live with a temporary truce, but he’d keep his wits about him all the same.

  The next day followed a similar pattern, neither of them really talking to each other, but not arguing either. Just after supper there was a knock at the door.

  "Expecting someone?"

  "No. Are you?"

  Walker shrugged his shoulders in response and went to the door. He took the precaution of lifting a heavy walking stick from the stand and then drew back the bolt. It never paid to be careless this late in a game. He opened the door a few inches, and glared at the stranger standing on the step. The guy looked about forty, and was dressed in designer jeans, turtle neck sweater and an expertly cut leather jacket. He was roughly the same height as Walker although a few pounds heavier. Walker relaxed his guard; the man's hands were in plain sight, and empty.

  "I'm sorry to trouble you, but I'm looking for 8971 Roche Harbor Road and think I may have—"

  "You've found it," Walker interrupted.

  "Then who are you?"

  Walker's eyes narrowed. "I might ask you the same question."

  The stranger stood his ground and returned Walker's close scrutiny with a hard stare of his own.

  Skye hadn't taken much notice of the mumbled voices at the door, but as the conversation progressed, one voice in particular held a familiar ring.

  "John? John, is that you?" Skye dropped her book and ran to the open doorway.

  "Sweet Pea?"

  Sweet Pea? Walker’s brows slanted in a frown. Was he talking about Skye? Sweet Pea couldn't be the same woman who would sooner scratch his eyes than offer him a cup of coffee? And this guy certainly didn't look like someone involved in illegal dumping. In fact he looked more like a college professor, but then appearances could be deceptive. But…Sweet Pea?

  His grip on the walking stick tightened. He turned to Skye. "Do you know this guy?"

  "Yes, he's my business partner, you overgrown moron! Are you going to keep him standing there all night, or are you going to let him in so that we can clear up this mess?"

  Walker stepped aside and allowed the stranger to enter. He made sure the man saw the hefty walking stick.

  "I've been wondering when someone show up. Take a seat on the sofa where I can see you, and no funny business. I'm not averse to using this while we wait for the cops to arrive."

  John looked at Walker and then at Skye and wondered what he had walked into. Cops? Waiting for him? Until twelve hours ago, he didn't t even know he was going to traipse six thousand miles to visit Skye. What the heck was going and who was this idiot?

  Skye threw herself into his arms and hugged him with desperation. He held her at arm’s length and looked her up and down. She looked bad—exhausted and there were dark circles under her eyes. The similarity was uncanny, just like she had when she had returned from seeing Michael.

  "Are you all right, Sweet Pea? This, this ape hasn't hurt you has he?"

  Skye was close to tears. "I'm fine, just a little tired. But what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in the office testing?"

  "When I didn't hear from you for a couple of days I got worried and decided I was being unfair asking you to spend the last few says of your vacation sorting out this bug. Debbie gave me the address. I caught the first available flight to Seattle. I had to hang around for a while for the connection to Friday Harbor, but I managed to get a seat on the last plane in."

  "Whatever your reasons are, I can't tell you how relieved I am to see you, John."

  Walker cleared his throat.

  "Well isn't this cozy? Skye, why don't you introduce your friend, and then we'll get down to discussing why you and your associate are hacking into my computer for starters?" He nodded his head in John's direction. "And despite who she tells me you are, I want to see some identification."

  John kept a protective arm around Skye, and walked her over to the sofa. He sat down, keeping her close by his side. " I don't know who you are, but if you’ve laid so much as a finger on Skye, I’ll personally see that you walk with a limp for the rest of your life."

  "John, meet Walker. Mr. Walker has this crazy idea that I’m trying to discredit his company. He thinks I'm involved in the illegal dumping of chemicals."

  John looked at Skye and then at Walker and roared with laughter. "I've never heard anything so preposterous in my life. Are you serious?"

  Skye said nothing. He could see that she was.

  Skye fixed her icy blue eyes on Walker. "Walker, meet Dr. John Ridge, one of the United Kingdom’s foremost designers of computer source code and co-owner of Dunbar and Ridge Computer Associates."

  Walker was stunned. John Ridge, well, well. He certainly had been expecting him to turn up on the doorstep. And just how did he fit into the game? His expression gave nothing away. He turned to Ridge.

  "I presume you've got some identification to prove that?"

  John said nothing. He reached inside his jacket and removed his passport. He handed it to Walker. "Is that good enough for you, or do you want to call passport control at Seattle and have it verified?"

  "I'm certainly going to get it verified. I don't trust one word that comes from Skye's sweet mouth." He dialled McCabe's number and quickly reeled off the details from John's passport. McCabe promised to get back to him within the hour.

  "Suppose you're telling the truth and you are her business partner, why would she be hacking into my computer?"

  John felt Skye stiffen at Walker's accusation and placed a restraining hand on her arm. "Skye has never hacked into a computer in her life. She's more than capable of doing so, but her talents lie in other directions."

  Skye groaned inwardly at John's admission, but listened carefully as qualified his statement.

  "Skye has a brilliant mind and when it comes to innovative design, she's one of the best. Many of the software products on the market contain code written by Skye and myself. You may have seen source code on her laptop, but it was code she and I developed. I’d asked her to examine it because we were experiencing problems."

  Walker eyed the two of them sceptically.

  "If you've got any doubts, ask your buddy to check with the British Embassy while he's about it. I am sure someone there will be happy to verify who we are."

  Walker's grin was derisive. "That sure of yourselves, huh?"

  John's expression was one of pained tolerance. "Yes, I am. In fact I'd even go as far as saying that your government will take a dim view of your actions. Now, before this situation gets anymore out of hand than it already is, I suggest one of you explains exactly what is going on here?"

  Skye interrupted Walker before he had chance to do more than take a breath. She spent the next five minutes explaining how they had met and the events of the previous week. She left out the intimate details of their relationship. By the time she had finished John was stern faced, and angry.

  "Sweet Pea, why didn't you tell me you were in trouble? Just how long has this idiot been holding you against your will?"

  "This is the third day. Walker came back from his business trip and saw me using my laptop. Before I could explain he decided I was both a hacker and an environmental terrorist. I pleaded with him to let me call you or the police, but he was convinced I was involved—"

  John gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and cast a murderous glance in Walker’s direction. "Take your time, Sweet Pea."

  "Walker was convinced I was i
nvolved in these illegal activities and insisted on staying here to see who showed up."

  "Is this correct?"

  Walker shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, give or take one or two minor details." Like the fact we're lovers, he added silently.

  The phone rang and Walker snatched it up. He listened intently. He replaced the handset, and gave Ridge an embarrassed, conciliatory smile.

  "Seems your identification checked out."

  "What a surprise. And?"

  "And you've done work for both the British and American Governments," he admitted. "Skye I owe you an apology—"

  John bristled. "I think you owe her more than an apology. But you can tell it to the cops. Skye, go and pack, we're leaving."

  "Wait," Walker interrupted. "Let me explain."

  Skye kept her gaze firmly fixed on John.

  John frowned. "You've got five minutes and then we're out of the door. This better be good."

  Walker leaned forward in his chair. "I'm a marine biologist. For a number of months now someone has been dumping chemicals in the waters around the San Juan Islands. I was asked to by the State Department to investigate. So far, only marine life has been involved. About the same time fish started washing up on the shoreline, my company's computer system suffered a number of major crashes, attributable to someone hacking into the system. Then a few days ago my headquarters and laboratories in Seattle were ransacked. Someone, somewhere, is trying to find out just how close I am to locating whoever's responsible for this environmental atrocity."

  For only the second time since John's arrival, Skye looked directly at Walker.

  "Have you kept your virus software up-to-date or tried hiring someone to trace the hackers?"

  A half smile crossed Walker's face. "I've done both. McCabe, my contact in the Department of Agriculture and Fisheries, suggested I try and contact a British guy. Someone named John Ridge. I assume that's you?"

  "Possibly," John replied. "It's a common enough name."

  "Well, if you are him, you're damned hard to track down," Walker said. "I scoured all the journals, the Internet; I even tried your old university, to no avail. One of the professors here at the University of Washington remembered attending a seminar you gave. I found an e-mail address for you in a journal, and wrote to it, but as of three days ago there was still no response."

  Skye turned to John. "Did you receive an e-mail from Walker?"

  "I'm not sure. If you used a web-based e-mail address I probably binned it. They are the address of choice for would-be hackers and the like. I don't even bother reading them. Most people who need to contact me use the phone."

  "Yeah, well we try not to ask the British for help very often."

  "No, because you think you have all the answers," Skye mumbled under her breath.

  For a moment there was silence. Eventually, Walker turned to Skye, a silent pleading in his eyes.

  "I'm sorry. I've behaved reprehensibly. I know I've got no right to ask this of either of you, but would you help?"

  Skye remained silent. John's face was immobile. They looked at each other, an unspoken question passing between them. John was the first to speak.

  "What makes you think we can?"

  "McCabe heard from someone in the Department of Defense that you're about to present some new software to the British Government."

  "We develop new software all the time. What makes you think it has anything to do with tracing hackers?" Skye asked.

  Walker shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe McCabe's information is wrong. I'm only telling you what I've been told." He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know about you two, but I could do with a drink."

  Walker went to the kitchen and poured a measure of scotch into three tumblers. He wondered what exactly Skye's relationship with Ridge was. Could they be more than business partners? Ridge was certainly hostile towards him, but then what did he expect? When Skye realized who was at the door, she hadn't hesitated—she'd fallen headlong into Ridge's arms. He could tell from the look in Ridge's eyes that he loved her, but was it reciprocated? A primeval emotion coursed through his veins. For the first time in his life he was jealous.

  Skye and John each took a glass of whisky from the tray. Walker took his own glass and downed the contents in one swallow.

  "I understand your reluctance to acknowledge that such software exists, but I would appreciate it if you could see your way to getting involved. These people are sick individuals. They don't know what they're messing with and sooner or later someone could die. I'm sure the two incidents are linked. If I can find who is accessing my company's computer files, then it may lead me to those responsible for the illegal dumping. Don't answer me now, think about it overnight. I'll come back in the morning and you can tell me then."

  John stroked his chin. "You make a compelling case, Mr. Walker, but I still think you've got a bloody nerve asking for our help after the way you've treated Skye. If it were up to me I'd have you arrested on kidnapping charges. However, this is Skye's call. She and I will talk it over. In the meantime, I suggest you leave before I forget I'm a gentleman and tell you what I really think of you."

  "Okay. There are some people I need to speak to anyway. Just one thing before I go—"

  Walker placed his glass on the table, stepped forward and dragged Skye to her feet. His arms circled her waist and gathered in his arms, his lips hungrily covering hers. For the third time in as many days her hand lashed out and hit him a stinging blow across his cheek. He tightened his hold on her waist, and drew her closer till her face was only inches away from.

  "That's the last time you touch me in anger, Skye. Next time it will be because you want me."

  "Don't be to sure about that," she spat. "I've still got a bruised wrist, remember. Want to see it?"

  Walker let her go and strode to the door, slamming it shut behind him.

  Chapter Twenty

  Skye was too startled by her response to Walker's kiss to move. He’d caught her completely off guard. It wasn't anger that made her body shake, but a familiar shiver of awareness. A soft gasp escaped her lips as her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the sofa.

  John stared at Skye and tried to judge her reaction. Although her beautiful face was pale, there was a slight flush to her cheeks and her eyes sparkled. Outwardly she appeared composed despite lashing out at Walker. But he knew that inside she was seething with anger or a far more primitive emotion.

  "What's this about your wrist?" He rested a reassuring hand on each shoulder, then took her hands in his.

  Skye looked up. "I'm fine."

  "You don't look it and you haven’t answered my question." He crossed the room and took up a position next to the fireplace. "I can't believe the nerve of the bastard. He keeps you holed up here for three days against your will, hurts you and then has the audacity to kiss you! He hasn't touched you in any other way has he? Because if he has—"

  "John, don't even go there! I'm fine. I've got a slight bruise, that's all."

  "The man should be locked up for the way he's treated you. I hope you're not going to sit here and let him get away with this outrageous behaviour. You ought to have him arrested for kidnap and assault. He can't go around treating people as if he is a law unto himself."

  Skye looked away. "John, forget it. It was nothing. No harm's been done."

  "But—"

  "I said forget it."

  For a moment or two the silence between them hung heavily in the air. John gave Skye a sidelong glance.

  "You're attracted to him, aren't you? Look, Sweet Pea, it's nothing to be ashamed of. Captives often become attracted to their captors. Once the reality of the situation kicks in, you'll see that he means nothing to you. I’m sure I don't need to remind you what happened last time you got involved with a Yank!"

  "Stop before you say something you'll regret. If anything happened, it's between Walker and me. And if I choose to forget this ever occurred, that's my decision to make. Besides, you don't know what you'
re talking about. This situation isn't remotely similar to what happened with Michael. And no matter how much you try to persuade me otherwise, I will not be reporting the matter to the police."

  "If that's the way you want to play it."

  "It is. We have more important things to discuss—"

  "Such as?"

  "Such as whether we grant his request, and when was the last time you had a decent meal?"

  "I ate in Seattle before I caught the connecting plane. Stop trying to change the subject."

  "John, the matter is closed." Skye rose fluidly from the sofa and placed a hand on his arm. "I know you have my best interest at heart, but we're both tired. It's been a long day and I don't know about you, but I could do with a good night's sleep"