Kit cleared her throat. “I loved you in Manchurian Candidate.”
The man with Denzel Washington’s face patted her arm, then took her pulse without speaking.
“You’re—”
“He’s not.” Wolfe was staring down at her. His voice sounded strained. “Trust me, he’s not even close. What happened to you?”
Kit realized that her head was throbbing. She also realized that Wolfe was standing right beside her and his hands were wrapped tightly around her wrists. “Hurts,” she croaked.
“What?” he said harshly. “Your leg? The cuts?”
“My wrist—where you’re squeezing it.”
The man with the face like Denzel Washington’s gave a muffled laugh. Kit frowned at him. “You’re not Denzel Washington?”
“Afraid not. But I’m better in bed and I do an excellent suture. Ole Denzel isn’t going to be doing field debridement any time soon, that’s for damn sure.” He finished putting away his tools and closed his medical case with a snap.
Kit stared at him suspiciously. “Where am I?” She shot up abruptly. “Where are the dogs? Diesel—I have to see Diesel.”
“Diesel is at the clinic sleeping. We’ve got surveillance in place.”
Wolfe’s eyes were very dark. They reminded Kit of a seasonal stream above the ranch, fed by snow melt every spring. There was something fascinating about his intensity, about the hard set to his jaw.
Forget it, O’Halloran. He’s mega-trouble. Look at the chaos he’s created in your life already.
“I have to go.” She tried to raise her head and winced at the sudden stabbing pain behind her eyes.
“Take it easy,” Wolfe snapped. “The other dogs are right beside you. Izzy could barely get past them to clean you up.”
She looked at the other man with the cocky smile. “You’re Izzy?”
“Just call me Ishmael,” he muttered. “Sorry to spoil your daydream.”
Kit smiled as Baby licked her hand. Butch and Sundance barked and lifted their paws onto the edge of the examining table. “Story of my life,” she said sleepily. Though she fought to focus, her eyes drifted shut. “Wolfe?”
“Right here. And lie still,” Wolfe ordered quietly. “Tell me what happened back there.”
Kit stared up at the bright light wavering above her head. It was hard to think with her head throbbing madly. “It had something to do with lots of mud. I’m pretty sure that there was a piece of cement involved, too.” Vaguely Kit felt his callused hand wrapped around hers. “The man who was chasing us…you took care of him?”
“I took care of him,” Wolfe said grimly.
“Knew you would. You’re good at that…taking care of things.” She felt pain gnaw into her hip. How long had it been since she’d had her last dose of medicine?
After a moment, she gave up trying to remember.
For some reason she felt herself drifting back in time…far back. Like the majority of her teenage memories, this one involved Wolfe. “I saw you taking care of Marijo Felton once. You were in the back seat of her father’s white Cadillac. I was thirteen and she was seventeen. Do you remember?” Even now dark fingers of heat swirled up at the memory. “She was making a lot of noise. So were you.” Kit wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard Izzy chuckle and Wolfe curse.
A door closed nearby.
“Wolfe?”
“Right here, honey.”
“Do you remember Marijo?”
“It’s been a long time since Marijo Felton.” His fingers brushed her cheek. “You were watching us?”
“From the cottonwood tree. I figured I had to learn about sex somehow. The school hygiene classes just weren’t cutting it.”
“You could have asked me.” His voice sounded a little hoarse. “I would have told you whatever you wanted to know.”
“Words. Didn’t want words. Wanted to see for myself.” She smiled a little, in spite of the pain. “Marijo left her underwear in our driveway that night.”
Wolfe made a strangled sound. “Your mother and father…”
“Don’t worry, I found them first.” Kit frowned. “Marijo told all the girls at school that you were a great f—er, lay.”
For some reason everything seemed abstract, so that she wasn’t in the least embarrassed to discuss what she’d seen that hot summer night. “Marijo told Trace that you had the mouth of a true artist. I asked Trace what that meant, and he was furious. Told me to shut up and stop asking questions. I think he had a crush on Marijo. A lot of boys did.” She squinted up at Wolfe. “Do you have the mouth of a true artist?”
He cleared his throat. “Marijo Felton liked to hear herself talk. Forget about it. You’d better rest now.”
“Didn’t answer my question. Nobody ever answers my questions. What’s the big deal about sex anyway? You get sweaty and pant a lot. So what?” She cupped her hip, shivering a little.
Wolfe leaned over her. “Are you in pain? Should I get Izzy, and have him give you something?”
“Hurts. Big deal. Always hurts.” She heard the words echo as if they were coming through a long tunnel. “Going to sleep now. You can tell me about what you did to Marijo Felton when I wake up.”
She thought she heard him curse. “Like hell I will.”
She didn’t hear anything after that.
IZZY WAS STUDYING a detailed topographic map of New Mexico when Wolfe slid into the front seat of the van. The snow had stopped as abruptly as it had come, though the night sky was still hidden by clouds.
Izzy tapped the upper corner of the map. “A small truck was stolen up near Many Farms on the Navajo Reservation about an hour ago.” Izzy frowned. “According to police witness reports, two coyotes jumped on the hood and then attacked the driver.”
More animals.
Wolfe filed this new fact away for serious consideration. If Ryker had a new experiment in place, Wolfe wanted every possible detail.
“You think Cruz was behind it?”
Izzy’s face was unreadable. “We can’t rule it out. Ryker admits that Cruz was receiving specialized new training at the time of his escape.”
Wolfe stared out into the darkness. This confirmed his suspicions. “But what the hell was he doing up in that area?”
“We’ve had rumors of a militia group operating in the Four Corners region near the Navajo reservation. Some of them are washed-out marines and SEALs. A few of them are ex-law enforcement.”
“And Cruz could be involved with these people?”
“That’s speculation at this point, though they would make a natural power base for a man like Cruz. We’re monitoring credit card usage in case anyone uses the plastic stolen from the waitress’s purse. So far there’s been nothing.”
“There wouldn’t be.” Wolfe stared at the map. “Cruz is too smart for that.”
“That’s what I figure, too.” Izzy folded up the map neatly and slid it into the glove compartment. No marks had been made, and Wolfe noticed that Izzy locked the glove compartment when he was done.
No one was taking any chances on leaks.
“She’s pretty tough, your friend.”
Wolfe started to say that Kit wasn’t his anything. Instead he stared out into the night and wondered when his disposition had started to turn surly. “She’s handled the ranch by herself since her parents died. She can take care of herself.” He shook his head. “She always was stubborn.”
Izzy held up a Thermos bottle. “Coffee?”
Wolfe shook his head. He already had enough adrenaline churning through his system.
“Smart. Stubborn. Good sense of humor.” Izzy’s voice was slow and casual. “Great legs. A killer body in those muddy jeans.” He tapped quietly on the steering wheel. “Especially in those muddy jeans.”
“You have a point hidden in all this?”
“Yeah, there’s a point. She’s got a thing for you. From where I’m sitting, I’d say you’ve got a thing for her, too.”
“Even if it were true, I could st
ill handle this mission.” Wolfe glared into the darkness. “And it’s not.”
Izzy blew at his coffee. “You’d better make damn sure of that. Cruz is dangerous and unstable. He’ll use whoever or whatever is available to accomplish his objective. That means Kit and the dogs.”
“Make your point.”
“If you can’t handle this assignment for personal reasons, I’ll have someone else from Foxfire pulled in to replace you.”
“Like hell.” Wolfe shot the answer back. “I know the terrain. I know Cruz. I’m the best man you’re going to find.”
“Under normal circumstances, I’d agree with you on that.” Izzy nodded his head toward the back of the van. “The woman lying back there—she changes everything.”
“Not for me, she doesn’t.” Wolfe’s voice was cool and sharp, like one of Izzy’s precision scalpels.
For a long time Izzy didn’t move. Then he released the emergency brake and headed toward the truck Wolfe had been given to replace Kit’s now derelict Jeep. “Make damn sure you’re right about that, Houston. A whole lot more than your sex life depends on it.”
“The day I can’t handle myself is the same day I pull out of Foxfire.” And it wouldn’t be happening for at least a decade, Wolfe swore silently.
“There’s one other thing you should know. Those pills Kit takes—”
“She said they were vitamins.”
“I found the bottle halfway up the hill, above the spot where she fell into the canal. And they aren’t vitamins. They weren’t anything I’d heard of. So I made some calls, checked with NIH.”
Wolfe sensed something coming that he didn’t want to hear. “Go on.”
“She’s sick, Wolfe. It’s in the rheumatoid arthritis family. Early stages, according to the files of the doctor who’s treating her in Albuquerque.”
“How the hell did you get into his files?”
Izzy gave a small, dismissive shrug. “No security in these places.”
“How bad?”
“Deterioration of the major joints. Substantial pain, currently moderated by experimental medications. But eventually they’ll stop working. Then she’ll have to try a new drug.”
Wolfe was barely aware of his fists clenched at his thighs. “How long will that go on?”
“I’m not a mind reader.” Izzy sounded angry. “There are no crystal balls in science.” He glared into the darkness. “She’ll probably get worse. The pain will probably increase. She probably won’t be able to take her current meds, because they’ll eat out the lining of her stomach. They may already be doing that. It’s a known side effect.”
Wolfe ran a hand across his eyes. “What else?”
“No kids. That’s absolutely out now that she’s taking this current medication.”
“Does she know about that?”
Izzy shrugged. “Experimental meds can’t be dispensed to test subjects without full disclosure of known side effects so I’d say yes, she knows. But having children is the least of her concerns.” He took a hard breath. “Unless there are some unexpected breakthroughs, the deterioration is going to increase.”
“Define increase.”
“She won’t be able to walk,” Izzy said quietly. “Then she’ll be looking at surgery.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
WOLFE STARED at Izzy. There were a hell of a lot of things he thought about saying, but where did you start?
No children. Decreased mobility. Constant pain.
He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat. “You’re certain about this, Teague?”
“Only one thing’s ever certain. Life’s a bitch, and then you die.”
“Great bedside manner you’ve got.”
Izzy glanced across at Wolfe. “I’m sorry if I sound blunt. Over time I’ve learned there’s only one way to deliver bad news—fast and ruthless. Otherwise you hurt people more in the end.”
Wolfe looked out the window at the stars flickering between racing clouds. “Kit doesn’t know any of this?”
“She would know about the side effects. I saw some consent forms for meds in her file. I doubt she knows the full picture yet.”
They passed expensive homes dotting the foothills on either side of the road. “You’ll be staying up near the top of the hill,” Izzy said. “We have our people set up in all the nearest houses.”
None of whom would stop Cruz for a second, Wolfe thought. Only another Foxfire member had any hope of doing that. And with Cruz’s enhanced abilities, the mission’s difficulty had taken a serious spike.
“You’ll find encrypted cell phones in the back seat, but the land line in the house is clean. Use it if necessary. There’s a safe room with food, medical supplies, and weapons in the basement.”
“All the comforts of home, in other words. Nice prep.”
Wolfe felt bone-tired as he climbed out of the van. He was superbly trained, calm and resourceful in the face of ambush, amphibious assault and automatic weapon fire. But facing Kit’s future was something else. He had no weapons in his arsenal against a silent, progressive disease.
“What about the dogs? That’s the first thing she’ll ask me.”
“We’ve set up a short-term kennel in the den. Give me a list of anything we didn’t think of. Since it’s not my area of expertise, it could be a long list.”
Wolfe glanced back at Kit, who hadn’t moved since they’d begun their drive. “What am I authorized to tell her about the dogs?”
Izzy didn’t answer.
“Give me an answer, Teague.” Wolfe’s voice was biting. “They’re what she loves most, and she’s poured twenty-six hours out of every day into training them. Isn’t she entitled to know what they are and who she’s really working for?”
Izzy stared back at him without expression. “She is not authorized to have that information at this time. She got the dogs from a breeder with military and police connections. That is all she’s approved to know.”
“What about the fact that they’re in danger?”
“You get the same answer.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.”
There was a thump on the road behind them. Izzy glanced into his rearview mirror and cursed. “Damn back door. We lost the spare tires again. I’ve had to fix that cargo rack outside twice already. Whoever requisitioned this piece-of-junk van should be shot.”
“I’ll get them.” Wolfe sprinted after the two heavy-duty tires vanishing into the darkness. He blocked their roll, then slid one under his arm and balanced the other on his shoulder. When he walked back to the van, Izzy was outside staring at him in the glow of the lights. “What’s wrong?”
Izzy shook his head. “Those tires you’re tossing around weigh close to a hundred pounds each.”
Wolfe shrugged. Given his peculiar skills and the genetic expertise that had fine-tuned his body, this kind of lifting was child’s play. He could probably carry four of the tires without raising a sweat.
Izzy’s brow rose. “Can everyone in Foxfire do that?”
Wolfe took vicious delight in his curt answer. “Sorry, Teague. You aren’t authorized to have that information at this time.” He slid the tires back into the rack and closed the doors quietly, so he wouldn’t wake Kit. When he looked back, the dogs were curled on the floor with their ears up. As usual, they didn’t miss a single movement around them.
“They must be giving you some kind of meds to keep you in shape like that. Aminos. Maybe steroids, too.” Izzy stared at him. “Or worse.”
“Not authorized to answer, Teague.”
Izzy looked back at the road, frowning, “Keep an eye on the mix. You saw what happened to Cruz.”
Wolfe had seen all too clearly. He couldn’t get the image out of his mind. If the experts at the Foxfire lab were pushing their biology too far too fast, the whole team could end up imploding—pumped up and strung out like Cruz.
Hell if he’d let that happen.
“Duly noted, Teague.”
“I
f you need outside medical advice, I’m available.”
Not a small thing, Wolfe thought. Izzy would have access to a variety of resources closed to most. “I’ll remember that.”
“Good. In the meantime, stay alert. Cruz knows where Kit is now. Our friends in the Hummer leave no doubt about that. Cruz is probably on his way here now.”
“Neither she nor the dogs will be out of my sight from now on,” Wolfe countered tightly.
Izzy pointed to a dramatic timber and adobe house at the top of the hill. It was more home than Wolfe had ever seen, much less spent the night in. “You’ll be staying up there.”
“A little rich for my blood.”
“You’ll survive.” After passing a dozen custom homes, they pulled into a narrow driveway. Izzy made a thumbs-up gesture to the man in a black uniform who appeared at the side of the van. “Take her inside and keep her safe. I’ll contact her friend in Santa Fe so she doesn’t start making anxious phone calls to the police.”
Wolfe had forgotten about Miki. But he knew making anxious phone calls would have been only the start of her response, if she thought Kit was in danger. “Kit’s going to need dry clothes.”
“Already on it. My people will pick up some clothes and keep tabs on the black Lab at the clinic too. As far as her medical condition, let me see what I can find out.” Izzy’s tone didn’t hold much hope. “There are always discoveries and new research. Tomorrow everything could change.”
Like hell it could.
Neither said it, but the words hung in the air.
Kit deserved something better than a bleak prognosis of pain. Given all the geniuses connected with Foxfire, Wolfe vowed to find it for her.
SHE WAS AS LIGHT as the weight of dreams in his arms as he carried her up the steps to the brightly lit house. Her hair drifted over his hands and her skin was cool with a scent of cinnamon. She was no longer a girl, not even close, and what he felt for her was turning dangerous, leaving them both vulnerable.
In spite of that, he savored the moment and all the unfamiliar emotions of close contact with someone other than a stranger on hire to the Foxfire medical staff.
Code Name: Bundle! Page 16
