“God, Lark, you feel incredible.”
“So do you.” She wrapped her arms around his back and lifted her hips. “Jason.”
“I know.” He slid both arms under her and cradled her body to his, then began to thrust. Lark turned her head to let his shoulder muffle her cries. Her entire body tensed as she clutched him tighter. Her heels came around and dug into the backs of his legs, and he was lost.
The explosion went on forever. Colored lights swirled behind his eyes. His brain had disintegrated, and every nerve ending in his body vibrated. He couldn’t breathe, but his lungs and sinuses were full of the taste and smell of Lark, and he knew, however physical the stimulation was, he’d never feel this way with any other woman.
Chapter Seventeen
Gabby’s new situation wasn’t any better than her old one. After John had forced Matthew back down into the cellar, he’d carried her through a doorway into another room. Another existence, really. The cellar itself was under a single room of a larger cabin. The space had been dimmer and warmer, furnished in heavy chairs and tables and sharing the space with what appeared, as John sped through, to be a well-built kitchen. But the room John took her to ended up being nearly as cold and damp as the cellar.
The twin-sized bed had a very thin mattress. Each rope that supported it was torture to her aching body. She didn’t know if she’d actually become sick or only convinced her body she had, but she hurt all over. Her eyes burned, her head felt fuzzy, and every time she moved, the space around her swirled.
John tried. He covered her with another of the scratchy wool blankets and fed her water and lukewarm soup. He also made her take a couple of tablets he said were ibuprofen, but they weren’t helping yet.
“I think you’d better call Isaac,” she told John.
“No.”
“He’s going to—”
“Be here soon. He’ll deal with you then.”
That was the plan. Despite her trust in Matthew, though, Gabby shivered in dread. In books and movies, plans never worked out. And if this one didn’t, failure could be deadly.
* * *
Matthew stood motionless outside the cabin, hidden by a couple of riotous azaleas and listening through the window he’d managed to crack open from the outside. Gabby sounded weak and scared. He wanted to bust in, overpower John and get her out of there.
Immediately after he’d dropped down into the pit, while John was thumping out of the room above, he’d gotten to work. His quick scan of the room above had showed all exterior walls except the side that led into the main building. He’d picked the side opposite the main entry and started digging with the largest shards of the smashed basin. The dirt had been well packed but not hard, and soon he’d dug a sloping hole to the outside, just at the edge of the bottom of the wall. After that, it had been a small matter to reconnoiter the building. Main living room/kitchen in the center, two tiny bedrooms on the other side with a bathroom in between. He’d been positioned outside Gabby’s room since, listening.
And thinking, in the long periods when there was nothing to hear. His ability to focus on the job seemed to have departed in the years he’d been mostly out of the field, and his mind kept wandering. Thinking about Kelly, and Gabby, and his relationship with Lark. About how the loneliness after Kelly’s death had faded, or seemed to, as he filled his life with his daughter and his business and his friendship. He’d tried dating exactly twice. The company had been engaging but nothing special, and the sex boring. He’d decided he just didn’t need it.
Now, though, since Jason’s “death” and the crumbling of Hummingbird, at least around the edges, things were different. The loneliness was more acute, his needs more apparent every minute he spent with Gabby.
The sound of wheels on gravel reached him from the other side of the cabin. The sky had lightened enough for Matthew to be able to see the bushes and trees and open ground more clearly, but as the sun began to rise, birdcalls and squirrel chirps also grew in volume. Matthew cursed under his breath. He wouldn’t be able to hear as well.
There was a car door slam. Just one. Then a voice calling to John. He couldn’t tell for sure if it was Isaac. After that, silence. He turned and lifted himself enough to peer into the bedroom. Gabby was alone on the bed, her eyes on the window. As soon as she saw him, she shook her head. Matthew dropped back to the ground with a smile. She’d read his mind and was telling him not to rescue her yet. He hated leaving her there when he had the perfect opportunity to get her out, but the plan could work. He had to give her a chance.
He slid along the wall to the living room section of the cabin. The early morning cacophony in the woods masked the sound of the voices inside. The ground rose a little higher here. He could stand next to the window and peek inside with less risk of being seen. Two men stood in the center of the room, but the glare of the outside light reflected wrong, and Matthew couldn’t see faces. He had to get a better position.
By the time he’d climbed silently to the roof and determined that the chimney perfectly funneled conversation to him, the men had moved Gabby to the living room and were badgering her. The other voice was definitely Isaac’s.
“I don’t believe for a second that you’re sick,” he was saying. Measured footsteps paced the wooden floor. “What’s Madrassa up to?”
Gabby somehow made her voice sound weak, yet strong enough to carry to Matthew. “I don’t know. I was pretty out of it down there.”
“Bullshit.”
Silence for a minute, then John said, “She’s awfully clammy. And pale.”
“She’s always pale,” Isaac snapped, but he didn’t sound certain.
“How would you know?” Gabby asked reasonably. “We don’t know each other.”
Isaac snorted. “I’m sure you know all about me. Or at least as much as Madrassa was willing to reveal. He wouldn’t have admitted his role in the fiasco that cost me my job.”
Matthew shook his head. Talk about revisionist history.
“What do you want with me?” Gabby asked piteously. “I’m really not feeling well.”
“I wasn’t amused by your trick with the flash drive.”
“So you said. I told you, I must have grabbed the wrong one. But instead of letting me go back to the lab to get it—”
“Shut up.” More pacing, then silence. “Where’s your ID card?”
There was a moment’s hesitation Matthew hoped they didn’t notice. “In my purse,” Gabby reluctantly said.
“It wasn’t there.”
“That’s where I keep it.”
“I said, it wasn’t there.”
Now Gabby sounded annoyed when she said, “Then I guess you lost it, didn’t you?”
Again with the pacing, then, “How much of the RT-24 formula can you remember?”
Gabby laughed. “None. I didn’t develop it. I just applied it.”
“But you’re a research scientist.”
“I’m a doctor who tended a patient. Whatever you want to do with that formula, I won’t be able to help you.”
No, don’t say that. Matthew wasn’t sure how far Kemmerling would go if he decided Gabby was unnecessary, especially now that she was a witness to a whole series of crimes.
But she wasn’t done. “On the other hand, Nils said you wanted information on Jason’s condition.”
“Why would I want that?” Isaac’s voice was tight, as if he wasn’t happy with Nils. Matthew held his breath. This might lead Kemmerling to reveal the information they needed—such as what the hell he was trying to do.
“I don’t know.” Gabby sounded weary. “I’m not supposed to understand your motives.”
“Do you have information on Jason’s condition? Or are you just trying to buy time?”
“I have a feeling it would be dangerous to lie to you.”
“Damned right, it would be.”
“I was his doctor. Of course I have information.”
“Tell me.”
“No.”
&nbs
p; Matthew had to stifle a chuckle. He’d never seen this side of Gabby. She was reacting to Isaac with strength and confidence she’d never displayed around him.
Then he heard a slap and a muffled cry. Dammit. They’d gambled that Kemmerling wouldn’t resort to violence, but they’d gambled wrong. He had to get her out now.
From his vantage point on top of the building, he could see down the drive to the main road, which wasn’t that far. But they were still surrounded by woods and probably little civilization, wherever they were. There was only one car parked in the clearing. Isaac must have left John here with no transportation. The car was a newer model, fancy. Hotwiring it probably would take more time than Matthew would have. He’d have to incapacitate Isaac and get his keys, and he didn’t think John would stand idly by while he did. This was going to take very tricky timing.
His urgency increased a hundredfold at the next words out of Isaac’s mouth.
“Go get Madrassa.”
* * *
Gabby was trying, she really was, but she had to admit it. She was a total wuss.
Tears streamed down her stinging cheek, and she tasted blood. The slap hadn’t been that hard, she supposed, but it didn’t take much to hurt a pansy like her. What tears didn’t exit her eyes burned the back of her throat, and nausea climbed up to meet them.
Isaac hadn’t bothered to tie her. She should make a run for it, before John discovered that Matthew wasn’t in the cellar. There was the door, not even shut tightly. But where would she go? She was so weak, holding her head up took all her energy.
She’d failed.
“I don’t understand,” she forced out, her words sounding slurred. “You want revenge against Hummingbird, and Matthew, I get that. How will this do it?”
“You want me to reveal my evil plan, huh?” Isaac shrugged. “Let me see…” He tapped his finger against his chin. “No!” He glared out into the empty room. “What’s taking so long?”
John didn’t answer. Isaac stalked to the doorway. Gabby frantically tried to think of a way to rile Isaac, to make him spit out something he had no intention of saying.
“It must be difficult, being the weaker man. Being outsmarted by those two, and even the daughter. She’s got no training, and she bested you.”
Isaac narrowed his eyes. “Lark didn’t best me. Templeton got the drop on me. I had no idea at the time that he was well enough to travel, never mind fight.”
Encouraged, she continued. “But they’ve all been one step ahead of you this whole time. Matthew knew that woman was up to something. He let you take him.”
Isaac froze as he was about to step through into the other room. “What?”
She wasn’t sure how happy Matthew would be about her revealing this, but if it kept him from discovering too soon that he was out of the cellar, she didn’t care.
“Yeah, he let her stick him. And then he put hints in the message she made him record.” He’d finally told her, during their planning, what had happened when he was captured. It had made her feel better that he actually had allowed it rather than gotten taken by surprise, though she supposed it would be better to let her hero worship die and just see him as a regular man.
“What hints?” Isaac’s voice had tightened again.
“That he’d been taken, that there was a traitor inside Hummingbird, stuff like that.”
Isaac cursed and paced in front of the doorway. Hurry, Matthew. John had already been gone long enough to discover he was missing. If he didn’t make his move soon…
“I don’t get why me,” she said. “And why Jason?”
Isaac whirled on her, his face mottled. “Jason was the one who put the censure in my permanent file. Who demoted me from lead agent and made sure I got non-essential assignments. He damaged the whole trajectory of my career.”
“And now he must pay?”
Isaac’s face relaxed and he laughed. “Yeah. He must—”
He never saw it coming. Gabby barely registered the figure flying out of the bedroom and tackling the shorter man to the floor. Matthew grabbed the back of Isaac’s head by the hair, knocked his forehead on the floor, and dropped his limp body to the wood planks. Gabby struggled to her feet before Matthew turned to her, his hand held out, his body moving toward the door.
“We didn’t get enough,” she protested, letting him pull her behind him since her feet weren’t cooperating on their own.
“We got enough. He’s not going to hit you again.” He held his free hand out toward the car as they stumbled down the steps—well, she stumbled—and the headlights flashed with the chirp of the door locks. He helped her into the passenger side and slid across the hood to get into the driver’s side.
He scanned the console and dropped the key fob in his hand to jab a finger at a large button behind the steering wheel. Nothing happened. He jammed his foot on the brake and hit the button again. This time lights came on the dash, but the engine didn’t turn over.
“What’s wrong?” Gabby asked. She leaned over to help, but had no idea what she was looking at. “Why isn’t the engine starting?”
“It’s a hybrid.” Matthew pointed to a diagram on the dash. “Silent engine unless it’s drawing gas. But there’s something else going on.” He bent to look under the steering column and cursed. “He’s got a security lock on it. I need—”
But it was too late. Her door opened, and John held his gun against her temple.
“Get out of the car, please.”
“Um…no.”
Matt’s finger hovered over the button again, but he didn’t touch it.
“Nice try with the dirt man under the blanket, Mr. Madrassa, but it was a little too small.” John pressed the gun tighter against her temple. “Both of you, out of the car.”
Matthew’s door flew open, and Isaac snagged his collar and dragged him out. Matthew went limp and landed on the ground, where he swept Isaac’s legs. Isaac stumbled but didn’t fall. It was enough to give Matthew time to get on his feet, and they started fighting. John pulled Gabby out of the car by the upper arm, a little more gently than Isaac had treated Matthew, and waited. Gabby held her breath, watching as the men traded blows, one reeling backward, the other attacking, then both rolling across the needle-strewn ground. Tears dampened her face again, and she tried not to cry out or flinch. Matthew didn’t need the distraction, and it could startle the man holding a gun to her head. He seemed more stable than that, but she wasn’t taking chances.
After a minute Matthew got the upper hand. He half knelt, half stood over Isaac, the man’s shirt bunched in his left fist, his right raised and ready to deliver the final blow.
That was when John fired.
Chapter Eighteen
Despite how late she’d fallen asleep and how fitfully she’d dozed, Lark woke early, the light in the barn dim enough to tell her it was barely dawn. Even so, Jason was up already, dressed and making coffee on an ancient coffeemaker in a corner.
“Everything okay?” she asked, her voice gravelly.
Acceptable Risks Page 22
