He automatically embraced the sparks of pain. He had been through much worse suck-ass moments than this one, yet now he didn’t bother to keep venomous sarcasm out of his voice. “That fucking feels just great. You’ve got to stop hitting people, because one day,” he said with lethal softness, “someone’s going to hit you back.”
She flinched, recovered, and looked even more defiantly at him. “You’re the only person I’ve ever hit.”
Great. Fucking great.
He noticed a fear in her eyes that he knew was due to him. A flood of emotions—fury, protectiveness, and concern crashed around him. He thought about apologizing, but stopped himself. She lies and she hits. What the hell do I have to apologize for? Saving her fucking life? Hell. He swallowed his frustration. Whatever he had, he had it bad. He softened his voice. Slightly. “Please tell me you’re not as crazy as your father. What kind of signal did he send? Extraterrestrial? Was it a red light? A warm glow?”
“Sebastian. Breathe,” Ragno said, a welcome voice of reason in his ear, as Skye glared at him. “You’re losing it, and this is too important. If, and this is a big if, if Shadows and LID technologies actually exist, and the NSA has implemented those programs, there’s any number of entities—and individuals—that would do anything to get their hands on a way of accessing it. We need to know what she knows.”
“Stop trying to intimidate me,” Skye retorted. “Because you can’t. You can yell, you can crowd me, you can ridicule me, and you can…” she drew a deep breath, her eyes scanning the office, and her cheeks became bright red when she took in the fact that others were watching their argument “…forget it. He sent a text. I had a burner phone. I lied when I told you that I didn’t.”
He drew a deep breath. “Of course you lied. Where’s the phone?”
“Smashed to pieces. Down the toilet at home in Covington.”
“Ragno, send agents there. Yank the toilet, search the traps, make sure she’s telling the truth about this.”
“What was the phone number?”
She drew a deep breath. “I have no idea.”
“You’re lying again.”
“I’m not,” she shook her head. “I never once used the phone. It was only intended to receive that one message. My father handed it to me. There was no need for me to ever know the number.”
He drew a deep breath. “Ragno? Anything we can do with this to determine call origination?”
“Not a call,” Skye said, “it was a text.”
“Well, we can’t tell anything without either the phone or the phone number,” Ragno said. “Ask her nicely to tell us what the message was. Maybe I can back into it that way, but it’s doubtful. There’s too much data, too many messages, and whoever we’re dealing with no doubt is using encryption for their outgoing messages, just like we are.”
“Skye,” he said, “what exactly did his text say?”
She shook her head. “You’ll never back into finding whoever has him. There’s too many transmissions, and you know they’re rerouting all of their outgoing messages.”
He didn’t need two people telling him that he wouldn’t get the answer he needed. To Skye, he said, “Just answer the fuc-” he closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath to gain control of the moment. “Just answer the question. What exactly did the text say?”
“He used a code, which basically tells me to get to get to our lake house in Tennessee and to await the next signal from him, which was supposed to come in exactly 24 hours.”
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“Give me the goddamn code.”
“131441413923117208152620.” She whispered, as though she was worried someone would hear.
His head throbbed as he watched the ease with which she repeated the nonsensical numbers. “That’s how your father spoke to you. In meaningless numbers. Did he add xoxo at the end?”
“Yes, to the numbers. No, to the xoxo,” she said, her eyes pained. He remembered the numbers and letters throughout Spring’s tablet, and realized that both girls had been victims of Barrows-style psychiatric abuse. “But the numbers aren’t meaningless. Some parents teach kids foreign languages. My father did too. It’s just he created the languages, and they’re based upon numbers. They’re not meaningless.”
Jesus H. Christ. Getting information from her was like having his teeth pulled without painkillers. “So what do the numbers mean?”
She drew a deep breath. “Cataclysm. Run. Now.”
His heart pounded, both out of frustration and because he felt he was hanging onto reality by the fingertips of one hand. If he kept looking at her, listening to her, he was going to lose his grasp. “And what the hell does that mean?”
“It means to get to the lake house in Tennessee and get in position for his next communication. That’s it. That’s all it means. That’s why I need to get there,” she said. “Now. I’m late. I was supposed to be there within twenty-four hours of the message, by 5:25 this morning, and I would have been there, but you showed up-”
“And saved your life-”
“And,” she paused, “yes. But if you hadn’t delayed me, you might not have needed to save my life.”
He chuckled, glad he could find humor in lala land. “Lady, you weren’t anywhere close to leaving when the kidnappers showed up.”
“Sebastian,” Ragno said, “don’t argue with her.”
“I need to get there,” Skye said. “Now. Please. Can we continue this conversation on the way?”
“I haven’t agreed to take you anywhere.”
She folded her arms, cocked her head to the side, narrowed her eyes in a way that told him she knew he was lying, and said, “Oh, really?”
Ragno said, “Sebastian? We need to investigate this. Don’t you understand how big this is?”
Of course he did. He just didn’t want to admit to Skye that she’d won. Dammit. If he was around her much longer, he was going to be crazier than Barrows.
“I’ll go and get Spring. She won’t be happy when she’s right in the middle of-”
“Spring stays here.”
“I won’t go without her.”
“She’s safe here, surrounded by tight security.” No way was he going to take Spring with them. Spring was his ace in the hole, and a way to keep Skye honest. Big sis wouldn’t bolt, if her baby sis was at Last Resort.
“Do you think I’d take her and try to make a run for it?”
“Hell, yes.” When she looked at him like he had three heads, he opened the door to the private quarters and gestured with his chin for her to proceed.
“Sebastian,” Ragno broke in, “she still hasn’t told you where the lake house is.”
“Where exactly is it?”
“I became turned around last night, but I estimate it’s approximately three and a half hours of driving from here. Maybe four.”
“The address, Skye. We’re not driving. I need to know the nearest airstrip.”
She shook her head. “Nashville International is the closest airport. There are some private airstrips, but even when we’ve flown privately we’ve used the international airport.”
“The address,” he said.
“No. I walk in when you walk in, and you won’t know the address until we’re almost there,” she folded her arms, eyes serious, and stood firm in the entryway, “and nothing you do or say will make me handle this any other way.”
“Is your claim that there’s backup just a ploy to get there, so you can check on whether he’s sent another message?”
“No,” she said, after only a second’s hesitation. Something in the way she shifted her eyes off of him, to the agents who were still watching, and refocused on him, was a warning signal. “There’s backup there. You’ll see.”
He nodded and opened the door for her. As she stepped in, he paused at the threshold of the living quarters and shook off the red-flag feeling. It didn’t matter. Even if she was only wanting to go there to see whether her father had sent her a
signal, that was important enough, because this time, he’d get the device and track the origination. Backup for Shadows and LID Technologies, if it existed, would be an added bonus. “Ragno. Get Zeus on the line.”
Sebastian waited longer than he should have. Ragno’s silence told him she was filling in Zeus on details before connecting the call, and that she had muted her connection to Sebastian. Great. Fucking great. “Ragno, don’t talk behind my back.”
“Well, I hear Skye Barrows has given you one hell of a handful to contend with,” Zeus answered, his words light, but concern evident in his partner’s tone. “Are you all right, in spite of the fact that Ragno is telling me that something’s off with you?”
“Zeus,” Ragno said, “I was speaking in confidence.”
“I’m fine,” Sebastian said.
“How are your headaches?” Zeus asked, his tone serious.
“Fine. Look, can you please just focus on work?”
“Sure. Barrows’ backup?” Zeus said. “It’s a big fucking deal. Huge.”
“I’m aware,” Sebastian said, “but it might all be bullshit. We’ll need to run diagnostics immediately. Want to meet me in Tennessee?”
“I’m headed out to Raven Two now.”
“I’ll alert the pilots,” Ragno said. “She’ll be ready for departure when you get there.”
Traveling alone, Sebastian would have been in the chopper in two minutes, and at the nearest airport in twenty. But it took Skye a while to tell Spring she was leaving. Spring had layered smooth as paper icing on about three-dozen cupcakes in preparation for decorating them. She showed Skye fresh drawings of what she planned to put on the cupcakes. Skye did a fantastic job of appearing interested, as though what Spring was showing her was the most important thing in the world, before calmly mentioning that she and Sebastian had to leave for a few hours.
As though the dog knew Spring needed reassurance, she sat at Spring’s feet and leaned against her leg. The dog’s ears were erect, as they both listened intently to Skye’s softly spoken reassurances. Doctor Schilling also stood close by, and Skye continually drew Schilling into the conversation, as she assured Spring she’d be gone for only a few hours.
Hell. It was even hard for him to say goodbye to Spring. Unlike Skye, he didn’t know whether he’d be headed back to Last Resort, when they were through in Tennessee. With Spring’s big blue eyes focused on him, he pretended he’d return. Coward. Before he was out the door, Spring said, “Wait.”
When he turned back to her, she handed him a plastic bag full of white jellybeans. He glanced at the bag and gave her a frown, as he slipped it into his jacket pocket. “Not even one red?”
She giggled. “Are you ever going to stop asking that?”
Without warning, she stepped closer, tiptoed up to his cheek, and gave him a sweet peck. “I’ll save some cupcakes for you,” she said. “Yours will be the best.”
As Skye reached out for one last hug with Spring, he was lost in the crashing currents of his complex feelings for Skye and his protective feelings for Spring. He didn’t know what he felt for Skye. Lust? Hell, yes. Curiosity? Absolutely. Frustration? More than a little. An insane desire to know her better? Yes, that too, even though he was now worried that she was nuts.
With Spring, his feelings were simpler. He wanted to ensure that for the rest of her life, she smiled that sweet smile and only had to worry about putting icing on cupcakes, or whatever other obsession had her attention for the moment. Innocence inspired his protective instincts like nothing else, and Spring’s blue-eyed brand of it made him feel like building a fucking fortress for her.
In his quick jaunt on the side of insanity, he had a fucked-up flash—the fortress he was going to erect for Spring would have to include living quarters for him and Skye. It was as simple as that, because the bond between the two of them never needed to be broken. The two of them, together. Skye and Spring. They needed to be protected from the ugliness of the world, and he was suddenly, irrationally pissed at Richard Barrows for not planning better for his daughters.
As he walked out of the house, the feeling that something was wrong came at him out of nowhere. He glanced to his side, at Skye. She wore a Black Raven issue leather jacket, which he’d pulled out of a closet and handed to her before climbing down the stairs. With her dark hair spilling over the black leather, and the snug pink sweater underneath, she looked positively vampish. Problem was, there was only one sister next to him and it felt wrong. He wanted them both with him, where he could cherish and protect them.
He drew a deep breath.
Last Resort versus travelling to some unknown destination in Tennessee?
No contest. Last Resort was safer. Too much could go wrong in a transport. Still, the sisters were meant to be together, and he was separating them. He had no option. Skye wouldn’t tell him where the lake house was unless he agreed to take her there, and he couldn’t torture the information out of her. Black Raven could handle the task of getting Skye there safely and returning her to Last Resort unharmed, but there was no need for Spring to go as well.
He shook off his discomfort as he helped Skye board the Bell 525 helicopter, one of several that Black Raven used for training, missions, and transporting personnel and clients between Last Resort and the airstrip that was located about an hour away by car, fifteen minutes by air. A four-man detail climbed into the chopper with them.
An hour after deciding to take Skye with him to the lake house in Tennessee, he was nodding goodbye to the Black Raven helicopter pilots, who’d transported them to the airstrip. The chopper landing pad was one hundred yards from where Raven One waited. Because of the regional airport’s proximity to Last Resort, Black Raven had a hangar there. The airstrip and the terminal was public, and the airport, though nowhere near as busy as Hartsfield-Jackson, Atlanta’s International Airport, had enough traffic that he was on high alert. Two private jets were landing. A fuel truck and a mechanic’s truck were heading to the helicopter that has just transported them. He paused, saw that the chopper pilots were watching the approaching trucks, and they didn’t seem surprised. He resumed walking.
The team of agents walked in circle formation around Skye and Sebastian, their eyes in all directions. The two pilots of Raven One were at the base of the boarding ladder. “Departure in ten minutes, sir.”
Chapter Nineteen
Raven One was supposed to be taking him to headquarters in Denver, where his partners who were stateside were congregating and the ones who were abroad would call in. Brandon, their corporate lawyer and his best friend, would be at the meeting for a legal assessment. Damage control was needed, because Senator McCollum, the head of the Bureau of Prisons outsourcing committee, was a major power broker in D.C. McCollum hired Black Raven for both his private oil interests and public sector contracts, which meant he was now one of their biggest clients. The senator was now majorly dissatisfied, and Sebastian had to apprise his partners of the potential for fall out. Yet instead of heading to Denver, he was sucked deeper into the world of Richard Barrows, on the search for backup that had better be where Skye said it was, looking for a message that he hoped like hell would be there. He’d participate by phone in the conference, as would Zeus.
The jet had two cabins. The forward cabin was larger, with seats set in configurations that facilitated working conferences while flying. The rear cabin was smaller, with two seats next to each other and a long couch that ran along the length of the plane. It was perfect for sleeping, or other things. He shook away the thought of those other things that he wouldn’t be doing on this flight, no matter how tempting that thought might be. A door separated the two cabins. He took off the leather jacket he wore and laid it on a chair. He reached into the pocket, took out the bag of jellybeans and then guided Skye into the smaller rear cabin.
Their accompanying agents had been in the office when he and Skye had argued and they’d been on the trail when Skye had slapped him. He thought about leaving the door open, but shut it
behind them.
Fuck it. Let them compare notes and talk. I have bigger problems to worry about.
He gestured to the couch as he opened the bag and took out three jellybeans. “You should try to nap.”
He sat on one of the seats, stretched out his legs, and ate one coconut-flavored bean at a time. She peeled off the leather jacket, laid it on the couch, then sat next to him, her thigh sliding against his as she settled into the leather seat. Fuck. Of course she wasn’t going to listen to him and take the couch.
“Ragno,” he said, as he put the arm rest down between the two seats, “our flying time is 50 minutes. What’s Zeus’s ETA?”
“He’ll arrive there about a half hour before you. They’re ready to go in advance of your arrival.”
“Skye,” he said, fishing out three more jellybeans. “We need the address.”
“There isn’t a street address,” she said.
“Of course there isn’t,” he said, not trying to conceal his irritation. “I’ve stopped expecting easy with you or your father. Just give us the exact location.”
She shrugged. “I’ll tell you when we land.”
“If you wait until then, you’ll be wasting time, because no matter when you tell me, I’m sending a team there in advance of our arrival. We need to secure the area before you step foot there. So tell me now, or tell me later.” He shrugged. “Up to you.”
She stared at him for a second, before saying, “Firefly Island in Hickory Lake.”
He repeated what she said to Ragno. Over the sound of her fingers racing across her keyboard, she said, “I heard her.”
Skye glanced at Sebastian. “We need to call the caretaker first.”
“Why?”
“The island isn’t accessible by car. There isn’t a bridge. Our cabin and the caretaker’s cottage are the only houses on the island. Jack Graham and his wife, Posie, are the caretakers. The property’s in their name.”
In a matter of seconds, Ragno confirmed what Skye was saying.
Shadows (Black Raven Book 1) Page 30
