Code Name: Bundle!

by Christina Skye

  Sunlight shimmered over the slope.

  Leaves stirred along the cottonwood tree, and when Trace blinked Marshall was gone. The air was warm and hazy, full of her presence as Duke sat up, whining slightly.

  Trace didn’t move. Without words he said the final goodbye he had somehow been unable to frame until this moment. He felt Duke’s cold nose brush his hand as the three of them stared at the sunlight where Marshall no longer appeared.

  She was gone for good. Trace couldn’t explain how or why.

  Suddenly Duke sat up, staring toward the top of the arroyo. His tail began to bang in the dust.

  Boots crunched on sand and Izzy appeared, a black backpack slung over one shoulder. “You three are a tough bunch to find. Hey, where’s my greeting?”

  Duke bounded up the slope and rolled over once, then shot into the air, front paws landing against Izzy’s chest in a well-rehearsed routine.

  “Yeah, that’s better. How’s O’Halloran treating you? Is he giving you those dog treats I left? Brushing you enough?”

  “They’re spoiled rotten, Teague. Stop busting my chops, will you?”

  Trace hunkered down and watched Duke pirouette around Izzy, waiting for the piece of dried salmon that emerged from Izzy’s high-tech backpack. “There goes my routine,” Trace said dryly.

  “Hell, you’re way ahead of schedule and you know it. These two are doing things even Ryker didn’t expect.” Izzy looked across at Trace. “How about you?”

  Trace’s hand moved unconsciously to his collarbone. All his technology had been gradually reactivated over the past weeks, and the returning abilities had felt as natural as coming home. When Marshall had appeared, he’d sensed a powerful shift in the energy unlike anything else he’d felt before.

  One more detail he wasn’t fighting to analyze.

  “Are the chips fully functional?”

  “Better than before. It’s already hard to be without them now.”

  “You won’t be without them again, not if Ryker has his way. He has some new plans on the drawing board, but he’ll tell you about that when he’s ready.” Izzy frowned, straightening his backpack. “I’ve got some information for you about Marshall. There was evidence of foul play that the local authorities missed in their initial crime-scene analysis. There were no clear marks indicating struggle near the edge of the river, but that changed when I tracked down a second set of crime-scene photographs that had been mislogged to another case.”

  “So it wasn’t suicide.” Trace took a deep breath. “I never believed it was. Marshall was too tough for that.” His eyes hardened. “Any idea who did it?”

  “There are several leads. Most likely it was a random, opportunistic attack. I’m following up, don’t worry.”

  “I’m not worried. I don’t think it matters to Marshall now.” Trace stood up, brushing twigs and leaves from his knee. “Thanks for keeping an eye on the details.”

  “Not a problem. What’s a techno-geek like me for, except to watch the data streams?” As Izzy scratched Duke’s head, he glanced back over the hill. “Dakota said he’s ready to take the dogs for their medical assessment as soon as you’re done. He looked a little pale though.”

  “Too many green chile burritos last night, he said. The man has an appetite that doesn’t stop.”

  Izzy rubbed his neck, frowning at the air above Duke’s head.

  “Something wrong?”

  “Me? No.” Izzy frowned at the backpack near his foot. “Hell, maybe there is. I had a call from Tobias Hale today. Ryker offered him a job here at the facility.” Izzy spoke in tight, clipped tones. “He’s starting as soon as the cruise line can find a replacement.”

  “That bothers you?”

  Trace knew there was a rocky past between Izzy and Hale, but he’d never asked for details.

  “It bothers the hell out of me,” Izzy said curtly. “I’m going to have to see the man every day, eat meals with him, discuss data with him.” He rubbed his jaw and glowered. “Treat him as an equal.”

  “He did a good job with Cruz. You know that.”

  “Maybe.” Izzy shrugged. “We’ve got…issues, in case you didn’t notice.”

  “You’ll work it out,” Trace said. “A really smart person told me that sometimes you have to hold on and sometimes you have to let things go.”

  Trace saw Duke paw at the small backpack he carried in training sessions. Trace realized that the dog had to have hidden Gina’s silk top inside the pack that morning.

  Schemer.

  “By the way, Gina’s leaving the ship next week. She’s got a vision assessment in San Francisco.”

  Trace stifled a wave of anger. Ryker was reconsidering his personal policy for all Foxfire team members, but until he’d made a decision, Trace was under orders to have no contact with Gina.

  For the moment, he was complying. But Izzy relayed small messages that neither man mentioned to Ryker.

  Sunlight filled the arroyo, Duke panted happily and a quail chirped noisily from the shadows beneath the fallen cottonwood tree while the desert drowsed in lazy contentment.

  The snap of a twig made Duke’s ears prick forward.

  His tail wagged as Dakota Smith appeared at the top of the arroyo. “Sounded too quiet up here. Something wrong with the dogs?”

  “No, everything’s fine.” Trace stretched a little, then looked closely at Dakota. “Maybe you should lay off the burritos, Ace. You look a little off.”

  Dakota made a dismissive sound. “Probably that new strain of flu Ryker told us about.” The SEAL hunkered down and scratched Duke’s head thoroughly. “By the way, Ryker’s down in the Jeep and he’s getting impatient.” Dakota smiled as Duke bumped his hand, urgent for more scratching. “Come on, you two miscreants. Let’s hit the trail.”

  The dogs shot off through the sunlight while Dakota followed, laughing.

  This was what you had, Trace thought.

  Now.

  Not yesterday, not tomorrow. Just a long string of nows. If you were very good and very careful they made something unforgettable.

  Marshall would have agreed with that.

  The sun felt very warm on his back as he shouldered his pack and started up the slope with Izzy close behind.

  “Did you hear about the test Ryker’s got planned for the dogs tomorrow? He’s got a new medical expert coming in to observe.”

  “The dogs will do fine.” There was pride in Trace’s voice. “Count on it.”

  Birdsong filled the air. Lavender swirled up, drifting through the wash behind the two men as sunlight shimmered.

  Then all was quiet.

  EPILOGUE

  Las Vegas

  Four months later

  GINA KICKED off her shoes, dropped her purse and tossed her white chef’s jacket onto the closest chair. She was tired and hungry, but she’d never felt better.

  Her eyes ached a little. She sat down near the window and rubbed them gently.

  The day she had dreaded had come. In the past month her peripheral vision had declined steadily. She couldn’t drive now. Walking alone in a strange place required her full attention.

  But in an unusual compensation, her nonperipheral vision was sharper than it had ever been. Though her new doctors couldn’t explain it, she could see clearly in the dark.

  She had been astonished when Trace’s civilian boss, Lloyd Ryker, had come to see her aboard the cruise ship. During his visit he had directed her to a new doctor as a way to thank her for her assistance aboard the ship. Soon after that, she found out that Tobias Hale was leaving to work for Ryker as soon as his replacement could be found.

  Her life had changed overnight.

  None of it was expected.

  None of it had been easy.

  But Gina knew this was the place she was meant to be—at least for now. Part of her new job was organizing select cooking weekends at the best resorts in Las Vegas. In the process she discovered she had a flair for performance as well as teaching. And though she mis
sed her friends aboard ship, she didn’t miss the grueling, nonstop pace of production.

  She didn’t miss skirmishing with Blaine, either. Though her old nemesis had survived the attack on the ship, she faced long months of rehabilitation, most of it in prison, due to her involvement in the shipboard murders. Imogen was still facing questioning.

  Not that her new job was laid-back. Today she’d finished an eight-hour workshop on advanced pastry techniques, and now she was exhausted.

  Her stomach growled loudly.

  She gave a silent prayer of thanks for room service.

  Someone tapped at the door. “Room service, Ms. Ryan.”

  She stood up and straightened her blouse, then opened the door. A man in a white uniform backed toward her, pulling a cart loaded with dishes.

  “Hold on. I didn’t order steak.” Gina sniffed the air. “I didn’t order fettucini Alfredo, either.”

  The man sidestepped, then leaned around her to close the door.

  Her heart began to pound.

  She grabbed her knitting needles from the table near the door and backed up. It wasn’t possible. The man from the ship had been arrested. Tobias had assured her of that after the SEAL team had left the ship.

  She still had nightmares about being locked in the freezer, and in every one she saw the cold, crazed eyes of her captor. Could he have escaped and come back for her?

  She was groping for the phone on the bathroom wall, her knitting needles leveled as weapons, when the uniformed hotel attendant turned.

  And his crooked smile sent her heart racing out of her chest.

  “Trace,” she whispered.

  She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t keep the heat from swirling through her cheeks. She ran an anxious hand through her hair, certain she looked like a mess.

  She had sworn to be fresh from an uninterrupted spa weekend, polished and gorgeous, when she saw him next. Instead she was shoeless, her hair wild after a long day in the kitchen. “What are you doing here?”

  “Serving you steak, apparently. And there’s a whole lot more on the agenda tonight, honey.” He pulled off his room-service jacket. “Izzy told me where you were. If your class had gone on any longer, I was going to pull you out of there under pretense of an emergency in the hotel kitchen.”

  Gina just stared at him. “I don’t understand.”

  He threw the bolt on the door and pulled her into his arms. His fingers moved gently, tracing every detail of her face. “You look tired. You did too much at your class today. When that jerk started arguing with you about the proper temperature for making ganache, you should have walked out—or decked him.”

  “You were there?”

  “Most of the time. I sat in the last row. I wasn’t going to say hello in front of thirty strangers.” His hands tangled in her hair. “Room service to the rescue.” He slanted her head slowly while his eyes filled with dark hunger.

  The force of his look made Gina’s mouth go dry.

  She leaned against him and held on hard, afraid this was another of the many restless dreams she’d had over the past months.

  “You’re a damn good teacher.” Trace reached around her and took a white linen napkin off the tray. Stepping back, he snapped it open crisply and guided her to a wing chair, spreading the napkin on her lap.

  “But—”

  “The teacher’s gotta eat, kid, and I’m the man to see that she does. As usual, your nose was excellent. We’ve got lasagna, fettucini Alfredo and steak. I brought you chocolate espresso cheesecake for dessert. Figured I’d cover all the bases.”

  He pulled the clips from her hair and ran his hands through the warm strands. “God, I’ve missed you.” He took a harsh breath. “I think that food may have to wait.”

  Gina saw the urgency in his eyes, felt the barely leashed hunger in his body. Not a dream, she thought.

  He was here, absolutely real.

  “Izzy told me you were in good shape.” His voice was low, uncertain. “I hated to go without saying…without explaining.”

  She touched one finger to his lips. “Tobias told me all I needed to know. You had one more month, anyway.”

  “One month before what?”

  Her chin rose defiantly. “Before I loaded my old Smith and Wesson, tracked you down, shoved you against the nearest wall and brought you to your knees.”

  His mouth curved in a sudden grin. “No shit. You were going to do that?”

  For answer, she pulled off his belt and unbuttoned his shirt. With a few deft movements she sent his pants flying.

  “Patience, focus and excellent reflexes,” Trace muttered, kissing her fiercely as he carried her to the big, silk-covered bed. “I hope you haven’t got anything planned for the next three days, because you aren’t leaving this bed.”

  “I’m all yours,” Gina whispered.

  “Damned right you are.” His eyes were hot and possessive as he stripped away her blouse and slacks, savoring the sight of her naked body. “You’re still wearing my St. Christopher medal.”

  “I never take it off. I just wonder about that day aboard the ship.” Gina frowned, sorting through the memories that were already blurred. “I dropped it somehow. If it hadn’t fallen where and when it did…”

  His fingers tightened. “Put it away. It’s done, Gina.”

  She took a deep breath. “There was something that smelled like lavender. I think I must have been hallucinating by that point.”

  Trace’s eyes narrowed. “You smelled lavender?”

  “No question about it. It had to be from the stress, right?”

  Trace was silent. Then he nodded slowly. “Maybe. Or maybe there are some things that we can’t even imagine. I’m starting to believe that.” He looked down and shook his head. “You’re even more beautiful than I remembered. Hell, I didn’t think that was possible.”

  Gina caught his palm and nibbled until he pulled her closer. “Not you. You’re exactly the way I remembered.”

  “That bad?”

  “I wouldn’t change one detail.” She hesitated. “But there’s something I have to tell you. My eyesight…” She forced out the words. “I’ve lost most of my peripheral vision.”

  “Hell.” Trace pressed a slow kiss against her hair. “That means you can’t drive.”

  She looked up, nodding gravely. “No work over open flames, either. Does that…change anything?”

  “Yeah, it definitely does.” Trace looked thoughtful. “It means I’ll have to find you a good chauffeur. Anything else I need to know?”

  Gina felt something bubble up, hot and light in her chest. For days she had worried about how to break the news to him, and now it was done. But she wanted to be sure that he understood the full picture. “My peripheral vision may be gone forever, Trace. No one seems to know what to expect.”

  “In that case I need to find a really good driver for you. I’ll put Izzy right on it.”

  Gina bit back a shaky laugh. “Can’t you be serious about this?”

  He looked at her intently and then shook his head. “Afraid not. You’re alive. We’re together. Nothing else matters.”

  Gina sighed as he kissed the curve of her neck. “Your friend Izzy says my night vision is abnormally strong. He said it may even become stronger.”

  Trace’s hand stilled on her hair. “Night vision? That’s interesting.” Her breath caught as he bit the curve of her ear.

  “Stop. I want to finish.”

  “Go ahead and talk, honey.” Trace’s voice was rough. “I’ll try to listen.”

  “Izzy says it may have to do with that package I had in my mouth. He didn’t explain too much, but he thought I should know that. By the way, your boss is very nice. He’s come to see me several times, and he arranged for me to see a new eye specialist last week.”

  “Lloyd Ryker, nice?” Trace stared at her thoughtfully. “So he approves.”

  “Approves of what?”

  Trace pushed her back onto the bed. “Everything, I’d say. Score
one for the home team.” He skimmed her waist and brushed her tight nipples slowly, fitting his hands to her breasts. “Enough about Ryker. We’ve got more important things to do. I only have four days of leave, and I plan to make every minute count.”

  “Hear, hear,” Gina whispered.

  He kissed her with slow, biting nips while he explored her wet heat.

  She trembled, reckless with the memory of too many dreams. Ryker had mentioned he might have some work for her, something connected with the research institution where Tobias Hale had gone. He didn’t give her details, but Gina gathered it involved top security clearances.

  The work would give her more opportunity to see Trace, Ryker had explained. At the same time she could do a valuable service to her country by participating in further study of her changing vision.

  But she’d think about all that tomorrow.

  Tonight was for a man with shadows in his eyes. Tonight was for making him know they had an unshakable future.

  “So what did you have in mind for your leave, Lieutenant? Sightseeing? Poker, maybe?”

  “Something better.” His fingers teased and inflamed as he brought her up and held her on the knife edge of pleasure. “Starting with this, I think.”

  He cupped her hips. Pressing her back onto the bed, he eased her legs apart. Then he savored her with his mouth.

  Every slow, expert brush of his lips and tongue made Gina’s breath catch. Her nerves seemed to stretch taut as his tongue met her trembling skin.

  The room blurred. Reality faded.

  Caught in a wave of need, she drove her body against his and dimly heard him mutter her name.

  But she meant to draw out this pleasure for them both.

  Her hands tangled in his hair as she wrapped one leg around him. “No poker? Can’t you be more specific?”

  Trace whispered a fierce, graphic phrase that lingered in the sexually charged air. Then he brushed her with his tongue and she came apart against him again.