Secrets and Lies

by Maggie Shayne

  “Are we going as twins?”

  “You can’t hike in dress pants, and those shoes are a joke. What size are your feet?”

  “Eleven,” he told her, taking the jeans and shirts. She nodded, walked to the row of shoes and grabbed him a pair.

  “Go on into the rest room and wash some of the dust off,” she advised. “I felt loads better after I did.”

  He nodded. “I don’t suppose there are showers?”

  “No, just a sink and lukewarm running water with complimentary rust. But it’s wet.”

  “Wet sounds like heaven about now.”

  She was right, he thought as he stripped down in the rest room and washed up as best he could. He wasn’t exactly dressed for rough-and-tumble work. And it did feel great to rinse away a few layers of desert. He made it quick, ever mindful of the two people whose lives were in the balance out there somewhere.

  When he emerged again, Mel was at the small wooden table munching a sandwich and drinking more water. A small plate across from her held another meal. Behind the counter, Sonny was scribbling on the notepad, totaling up the damage. He looked at Alex with a toothy smile. “That’ll be $209.75, with the tax,” he said.

  “Pay the man and eat. We need to get going,” Mel told him. “I’m sure he takes plastic.”

  “Oh, yeah. I can do that.”

  Alex pulled his billfold from the jeans he now wore, and reached for his titanium card, then thought better of it and counted out cash. The bills had been soaked, dried in the wallet and were kind of stuck together, but they would have to do. Then he sat down opposite Mel and ate.

  He was nervous as hell. Not about going up against international criminals. He’d faced down dangerous men before, and he had no qualms about doing it again. It was all this outdoorsy stuff that was bothering him. He supposed he’d handled it as well as anyone could have, so far. But hell, he was out of his element, and he knew it. If he’d been left to choose the supplies and pack the backpacks, he would have been guessing, at best. Mel seemed to know exactly what to bring and how much of it.

  And despite the fact that she had to be hurting, tired and frightened, she was glowing right now. Her eyes sparkled with energy.

  She was finished with her sandwich already, so she got to her feet and came to where he sat. Taking a plastic container of sunblock from the table, she squeezed some into her palm, rubbed her hands together a few times and then pressed them to his forearm.

  Alex went dead still, stopped eating his sandwich and just sat there, looking at her hands on his skin. She didn’t seem to notice that, though. She worked the lotion over every exposed bit of flesh on his right arm, all the way to his hand. When she smoothed the lotion over and between each finger, he wondered why it felt to him like the world’s most erotic foreplay, then kicked himself for being an idiot.

  He flexed when she began again with the second coat. He couldn’t help it, wasn’t even sure it was premeditated, but he did it, and he felt her hands slow as they moved over his biceps, felt them linger there. He stole a glance at her eyes just as she closed them, swallowed hard and moved her hands away.

  She repeated the entire process with the other arm, then pulled her chair closer and squeezed more lotion onto her hand. “Put your head up.”

  He lifted his chin. Her hands moved to his neck, warm and efficient. The lotion smelled like coconuts and vanilla beans and hot sandy beaches and summer sunlight. Her palms slid over his nape, and he shivered.

  “You’re already starting to burn. So was I. It’ll be sore as hell when we have time to sit still and feel it.”

  She ran her hands over his pulse points and underneath the edges of his collar, and everywhere she touched, he felt the dull pain of a slight sunburn and the raging fire of wanting her.

  “Close your eyes,” she said.

  Was her voice a little softer? A little coarse? No, it was probably just the long walk in the desert this morning. He closed his eyes. Her fingertips danced over his forehead and nose, his cheeks, the parts without three days’ growth covering them. He suddenly wished he had time to shave.

  “Sonny drew us a rough map,” she said softly. “We’ve got fifteen miles of desert to cross. I got us a compass, so we shouldn’t get lost. If we do, we’re history.”

  “We won’t get lost,” he promised.

  She nodded, took a pair of sunglasses from the table and slipped them on his face. Then she plunked a Western hat on his head. It was made of straw, cool, with a wide, shade-giving brim. “We need all the protection from the sun we can get.”

  She put her own sunglasses and matching hat on her head. “Ready for the backpack?” she asked him.

  He nodded, stood up and turned around.

  Mel hefted his backpack, and slid it over his arms and shoulders as he hunched it into place. “Great,” she said. “Now you do me.”

  He spun around and reached for the sunblock so fast he knocked the bottle over. Mel said, “No, not that. I already smeared enough of that on to cover three people.” She snapped the cap closed and dropped the bottle into the remaining backpack, then turned her back to him. “I meant the pack.”

  He lifted the pack from the table. Then he shook his head. “No way in hell, honey. Uh-uh. You aren’t carrying this much weight.” He set the bag back down, took his own off, as well, and went to work. He removed the huge water canteen from the side of Mel’s pack and attached it to his own. He took the box of ammo from hers and added it to his. Then he took the sleeping bag off the bottom.

  “Oh, come on, we’re gonna need that!”

  “There’s one in my pack,” he said, patting the neatly rolled bundle.

  “Well, yeah, but—”

  “That’ll be plenty.” He lifted her pack again. “It’s still heavy.”

  “I’m still perfectly capable of carrying it,” she told him and, turning, thrust her arms through the straps and hefted the weight easily.

  Alex frowned.

  “What did your friend Mr. Flyte say?” she asked as she helped him back on with his own pack. Together, they walked out of the building, into the burning heat.

  “They’re going to try to get some satellite photos of the base before they do anything. They don’t want to waste manpower on a whim. If there’s any sign of Katerina and Thomas, they’ll send in special forces, nice and quiet, totally unannounced. It’ll take some time, but it’s better than charging in like bulls and spooking them.” He sighed. “Chances are they’ve moved on by now, anyway.”

  “Why the hell would they? They’ve got the perfect hideout. In the middle of nowhere.”

  “Yes, but the couple were seen. They may not have risked staying around here after that. Certainly once they get what they want, they’ll have no reason to stay.”

  “What they want is Katerina and Thomas dead.” She said it, then she blinked and stared at him. “God, do you think…?”

  “No. I don’t, and you shouldn’t, either. You start thinking that way, you won’t have the heart to get through this. Besides, that’s not what they want, not really. They want Tantilla. They want enough leverage to use to force President Belisle to give it to them.”

  She nodded her agreement. “Once they know they have the real Katerina, then they have that. Do you think they’ll try to take her out of the country?”

  “I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out when we get out there.”

  She nodded her agreement. “Let’s go.”

  They crossed the dusty, barren road, popping tar bubbles with the clean soles of their new shoes, then striding onward, leaving the road and the little shop far, far behind them.

  Chapter 10

  I t was hot and growing hotter, Alex thought, with every step they took. Walking wasn’t easy, as the hardpacked, barren earth softened and changed into the shifting sands of pure desert. The farther they hiked, the hotter it grew. There had been trees, scrubby and bare, brush, back there near the road. Here there was nothing except cactus and the occasional boulde
r. Red rock formations standing tall and oddly shaped in the distance.

  “They picked a hell of a spot to put a military base, didn’t they?” Mel asked.

  He’d been watching her closely, unable to comprehend how she could manage to look strong, confident. He was damp with sweat within the first hour and could see that she was, as well. They had walked maybe five miles, and he decided it was time for a rest.

  “Come on, let’s take a break. Over here.” He took her arm and led her toward the minuscule shade offered by a boulder. They took off their packs, sat down and leaned back against the warm rock.

  Alex freed a canteen from his pack, twisted off the cap and handed it to Mel. His own mouth felt about as parched as the ground they’d been walking over, but he figured both John Wayne and James Bond would see to the lady first, so he could do no less.

  She drank in small sips, swishing each one around her mouth before swallowing. Then she poured a bit of cool water into her cupped palm and patted it on her face and the back of her neck.

  “The water’s already warm,” she said, handing the canteen back to him. Their fingers brushed, and hers were moist and hot.

  He drank from the canteen. The lukewarm water tasted unreasonably good to his parched mouth.

  “I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed water so much, do you?” she asked as Alex put the cap back on, making sure it was good and tight, before reaffixing the canteen to his backpack and leaning back against the boulder again.

  “I was just thinking that,” he said. “Though I have to say, an ice-cold beer would hit the spot a little bit better right about now.”

  “Ice-cold beer, huh?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Why that doubtful expression?”

  She shrugged. “I just took you more for a fine wine kind of guy,” Mel said, smiling at him.

  “What, you don’t think a ‘fine wine kind of guy’ can enjoy a cold beer every now and then? There’s more to me than you give me credit for, Mel. I’m multilayered.”

  She lifted her brows and studied him. “Are you trying to tell me that there’s a redneck hiding underneath that GQ model exterior?”

  “Just as much as there’s a little bit of princess hiding behind your rough-and-tumble cowgirl surface.”

  “That wouldn’t be much.” She shook her head, closed her eyes behind the sunglasses she wore and let her head rest back against the boulder. They were sitting as close as they could without touching. “I’ve gotta tell you, Alex, that role I was playing was a terrible strain. As much as I hate to admit it to a man like you, I don’t enjoy embracing my inner princess the way most women would. The hair and makeup and manners. The damn shoes alone…” She shook her head slowly. “I don’t suppose that comes as any surprise to you, though.”

  “No. Just makes me curious.”

  “About…?”

  “About why it is that you hate to admit that to a man like me.” He was facing her, trying to read her expression, but it was tough behind the sunglasses. And she wasn’t looking at him, either. He thought maybe her eyes were closed behind the shades. She must be exhausted.

  She shrugged her shoulders just slightly. “Because you like all that stuff in a woman. And you liked it in me, I know you did. But it was all just as phony as…as the desert backdrop in a cheap western.”

  He blinked at her.

  “You know, those old cheesy films, where all the Indians were played by Caucasians?”

  He nodded. “I know the kind you mean.”

  She shook her head a little. “I guess this whole adventure reminded me of those. They were so tacky, but I loved them anyway. Especially when the cowboy pulls a guitar out of his saddlebag and starts singing.”

  Alex sang the opening notes of one such cowboy song, drawing out the words, “Bluuuuuuuuuue…shadoooooow…” A smile split his face when she joined in with the next line. Neither of them could remember what came next, and they both stammered to a halt and started laughing.

  The laughter died slow. He reached up to her, plucked the sunglasses off her face. “You want to know what I like in a woman, Mel? I like that she’s watched campy old westerns so often she knows some of the words to that song.”

  She blinked in surprise. “Really?”

  “Yep.” He put her glasses back on. Not because he was through wanting to plumb the depths of her eyes, but because she was squinting in the setting sun.

  “I’m surprised. I mean, I wouldn’t have guessed that you would like that kind of film.”

  “What, goofy comedy? It’s my favorite genre.”

  “Mine, too,” she said.

  He smiled. “They’re crude, rude and completely inappropriate. But they’re funny as hell.”

  She laughed softly. “My mother refuses to let me watch the worst of them while she’s in earshot,” Mel said, shaking her head.

  “You can always come watch them at my house.”

  He turned toward her when he said it, found his gaze stuck to her lips like a fly on flypaper. He licked his own, wished they weren’t so dry, leaned in closer and brushed hers with them.

  For just a second he felt her soften and respond. But then she turned her head away. “I…we should get moving.”

  “Yeah. All right.” He got to his feet, reached down a hand to her.

  She took it and let him help her to her feet. “How far do you figure we’ve come?”

  “Five miles, maybe. We won’t make as good time from here on in, given the terrain.”

  “And the heat,” she said. “So, ten miles to go. Another two hours of this.”

  “More like three.”

  She shook her head as they trudged along. “You know, if Katerina and Thomas got away and made it all the way to that store…” She stopped there, shaking her head. “It’s tough for me to believe Katerina ever made it that far.”

  “Why? I mean, you’re not having any trouble so far, are you?”

  “No, but that’s me. I’m not Katerina. I’m used to hard work, and I’m pretty strong. But for the woman I was pretending to be for the past few days, with her coddled lifestyle and her ridiculous shoes, to hike fifteen miles through the blazing hot desert? I just don’t see it.”

  He sighed, frowning as he thought it through. “What seems off to me isn’t that they made it fifteen miles, it’s that their captors didn’t catch up with them before they got all that way. I mean, for crying out loud, it was two people on foot versus four or five men, probably armed, in four-wheel-drive vehicles.”

  “Maybe they sneaked out in the middle of the night and no one noticed they were gone until morning.”

  “I suppose that’s possible,” Alex said.

  “Yeah, that’s probably it.” They walked a few more steps, and Mel spoke again. “I don’t know, though. How would they have known which way to go?” She shook her head, glancing down at the compass she’d been checking periodically, then left and right, ahead and behind. “I mean, everything looks the same out here. Without the sun and this compass, I wouldn’t know which way we were going.”

  “Maybe they used the stars?” Alex suggested.

  “Yeah, they seem like real outdoor-types. Probably know all about using the stars to guide their way.”

  “You’re right. It’s not likely,” Alex said.

  “And what about my earlier observation? That this was one odd place to set a military base?”

  “Well that, at least, makes some kind of sense. If it were a secret base, which it must have been, since Mick and I never heard of it, then it would have to be set up in some remote area.”

  “Like Area Fifty-One?” she asked.

  “Without the aliens.”

  “We can only hope,” she said.

  At the riverbank Mick Flyte stood beside the limo, with a map spread out on its hood. Wes stood beside him, leaning over and peering at it. “Alex said he was calling from a gas station and general store of some kind. But I’m damned if I can see one on this map.”

  Wes studied the m
ap, which was unlike any he’d ever seen. It had every detail listed, every business marked. But there was no store like the one Alex had described.

  And according to Flyte, there was no military base out here, either.

  “Can we even be sure it was Alex on the phone?” Wes asked. “I mean, could it have been an imposter? An attempt to divert our attention from where we need to be looking for them?”

  “I thought of that, too,” Flyte said. “Damned if I could swear to it—the connection wasn’t the greatest, but I think it was Alex’s voice.”

  “Maybe it was. He could have been forced to make the call,” Wes said.

  Flyte shook his head slowly. “I doubt anyone would have much luck forcing Alex to do anything he didn’t want to do. He can take more punishment than anyone I’ve ever trained. I tried like hell to get him to come to the CIA with me, but he wanted no part of it. No, they could torture Alex till hell froze over, and it wouldn’t do them any good.”

  Wes said, “They wouldn’t need to torture him at all. All they’d need to do is threaten to hurt Mel.”

  Flyte met Wes’s eyes, and Wes could see the man knew he was right.

  Several Jeep-loads of military types pulled to a stop along the riverbank, spilled out and began to organize into groups. There were other groups starting to search from other points, about thirty miles in every direction. Flyte wanted to start from the site of the wrecked canoe, since the location Alex had given by phone had been no help at all, and he insisted Wes and Selene come with him. Wes suspected the man was hoping Selene might be able to pick up on something there.

  It had taken two hours from the time of Alex’s call to get things organized to this point, and Wes was just about jumping out of his skin with impatience.

  Selene, though, didn’t seem to be paying much attention to the amount of time that was ticking by or to the groups of armed men in tan-colored camo. She was too busy staring at what remained of the canoe.