by Nina Croft
Once, when she was still too young to understand, she’d asked her father why they didn’t just send someone back to just before the Cataclysm and see what had caused it. Maybe then they could prevent it. Save the Earth.
He’d told her that wasn’t what they did. The Cataclysm had happened. You couldn’t go back and meddle with the past, change it to suit yourself.
“Why?” she’d asked.
He’d told her the story of the Rixen empire, far away from Earth. They’d meddled with time, going back and changing something seemingly small. The repercussions had been huge, turning a galaxy into a black hole that had sucked in other galaxies and sent ripples across all of space. It was a story she’d heard again as a new recruit of the Federal Bureau of Time Management. Their job wasn’t to change the past, but to prevent others from doing so. While time travel had been banned, there were always those who believed they could cheat the system, change the past, and the present, and still survive.
Any anomalies sent ripples through time that were picked up by the Bureau. Investigated. Eradicated. Their job was to see the past returned to the past with the smallest of repercussions.
That’s what she was here for. To investigate the anomaly and to put it back to what it should have been, in whatever way caused the least disruption to time.
Not to hold hands.
Not to have feelings for these people. Because there was a good chance they would all die soon. She couldn’t change that. She wouldn’t risk it, even if she could.
She had a job to do and she’d taken an oath to do that job, whatever the personal cost and consequences.
Quinn was going to die. And Kaitlin and Rose. All this, whatever they thought they were doing, didn’t matter, because in a few years, they would all be gone. Dead. Her mind filled with the image of the vast scorched wasteland this world would become. She’d flown over this area many times. The Earth she knew was nothing like this lush, green land. The memory made her eyes prick, though she had no clue why or what was happening to her.
“Hey,” Quinn said. “Are you all right?”
She blinked a couple of times. “Sorry?”
“For a moment, you looked—a little sad.”
She didn’t do sad. She just did her job. “I’m fine. Everything catching up with me, I guess. I’ve never been in a plane crash before.”
He grinned. “Yeah, we’ll have to do it again sometime.”
He appeared almost boyish, with the wide grin on his face crinkling his eyes. “How old are you?” she asked, suddenly curious.
“Twenty-nine.”
“A baby.” He actually looked younger.
“You?”
“Thirty-two.”
“An old lady.”
She shifted on the hard truck bed, so she could look at him better. One last time—then she’d get serious. Something twisted inside her as she took in his long lean body, relaxed now. She could see the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. His hands with their long, tapered fingers, resting on the muscles of his thighs. He lifted one, and she had the idea he was going to do the hand-holding thing again, and she couldn’t. She tucked her own hands between her thighs.
A frown flashed across his face, and he peered into her eyes, as though he could read her mind. “You’re scared.”
She blew out her breath. “No. But I have a job to do. I don’t need complications.”
He gave a short laugh, totally devoid of humor. “And I guess people don’t come much more complicated than me.”
She wondered what he would say if she revealed exactly who and what she was. She reckoned she would win that competition.
Then he sighed. “Let’s just get through the next few days and then we’ll talk about complications.”
By then she’d be gone. Way beyond where he could reach her.
And her eyes pricked again.
What the hell was happening to her?
Chapter Seventeen
As soon as he stepped up onto the wide wooden veranda, Quinn fell in love with the safe house. He felt at home. An old ranch house, it sprawled across the landscape as though it belonged there. About ten miles off the tarmac, down a dirt road, it was remote enough that he was sure they wouldn’t be found by chance. That just left screwups and bad luck.
He reckoned they’d had their share of those for now.
He and Pete collected Kaitlin and her stretcher from the back seat of the truck. Rose ran ahead, found the key under a pot beside the faded red front door, and opened it for them. “Up the stairs, I think,” Rose said as they carried Kaitlin through into a large hallway. “If you can manage it. She’ll be more comfortable in a bed.”
Between them, they managed the stairs with relative ease. At the top was a long hallway and Rose waved at them from an open doorway. “In here,” she said.
The room was large, with a crimson-covered big double bed and a window that looked out over the front of the house. Rose stripped back the cover and they lowered Kaitlin down onto the mattress, then gently maneuvered her off the stretcher. She looked pale, but she was going to be all right. He heaved a sigh of total relief. They’d believed they’d lost Kaitlin once already. He couldn’t do it twice. Maybe Kane was right. They should send her back to Uganda. Keep her in a cage or something.
She sniggered. “Never going to happen.”
He shook his head. “I’m glad you’re all right, brat.”
“There’s a whole load of medical stuff in the back of the truck under the seat,” Rose said. “Can you bring it up here?”
“Sure.”
“And there’s food and drink, too. I’m starving.”
His stomach rumbled at that moment. Yeah. He was starving as well. The adrenaline was leaving his body. It was what had been keeping him going. Now he needed something else.
He met Martin on the stairs coming up.
“I’m going to find a bed and crash for a while,” the other man said.
“Good idea. I’ll send some food up when we’re sorted.”
Mel was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. She almost smiled when she saw him, then stopped herself at the last moment. Something had changed on the drive over here. Before that, he’d felt that they were making a real connection. He would have sworn she liked him. Then she’d backed away, mentally and physically.
He’d wanted to give her comfort, hold her hand—which was way beyond weird anyway. When had he ever held a girl’s hand? Never. But she’d pulled away from him. Maybe it was an FBI thing. Rule number…whatever: Don’t hold hands with… With what? What was he to Mel? A suspect?
“What can I do?” she asked.
“Help me unload the car.”
Pete was outside, talking to Liz. She wasn’t happy, and wanted them to phone someone now, to get them out of here. Pete was more…relaxed. He knew something odd was happening, but weirdly, he trusted them. At least, more than he trusted the other side, who was clearly willing to shoot a plane down from the sky with no worries about collateral damage. Maybe it was a choice between bad and worse, but he was coming down on their side. He was a good man.
Quinn addressed his words to Liz. “Come inside. We’re safe here. Relax for a little while, get some rest while we decide what to do next.” He reached out to her mind, sent some tiny tendrils of coercion, and saw the set expression relax from her face. She gave a nod. “Okay.”
He blew out his breath. That was one problem sorted for the time being. Mel was peering at him with speculation, but he ignored the look. He opened the truck and found the medical supplies, then handed them to Mel. “Can you take these to Rose?”
She took them. “Of course.”
There was also a box of groceries and he handed it to Pete. “Kitchen.”
“I’ll find it.”
He watched as Pete walked away, Liz beside him, then he leaned on the side of the vehicle. They were safe for now. It was time to have some food, contact Jake, and see where to go next.
They’d been plan
ning on leaving the old tribe where they were for the moment—believing that was the safest option—while they regrouped in Uganda and decided their next move. Only that was no longer a possibility. From what they’d learned from their attackers that morning, it sounded as though the rogue Conclave faction would find the old tribe soon, and they couldn’t risk that. The problem was, right now, they still had no clue where they were.
What a goddamn mess.
His stomach rumbled again. At least that was one problem he could sort out.
He made his way through the house, to the back where he found Liz and Pete in a huge kitchen. It was old fashioned but had a comforting feel and a big scrubbed wooden table in the middle.
The place was clean, though it had a slight air of neglect, as though it hadn’t been lived in for a long time. There was a fridge. He opened it without much hope of finding anything, then grinned at the rows of beer bottles. No fresh food, but right now, he’d take beer over food. He pulled out a couple of bottles, flipped off the tops, and handed them to Pete and Liz, who were emptying the box of supplies onto the table. Then he got one for himself and sank down onto a wooden chair. Just one beer, then he’d make a plan. It was icy cold, and the best thing he’d ever tasted. He emptied the bottle. Then stood up, got another, and sat down again. He’d take this one slowly.
He reached out for Rose. “How is she?”
“Cursing. Have you ever tried to get a woman out of a pair of leather pants?”
He grinned. “Actually, yes.”
“Ugh.” That came from Kaitlin.
“How about a woman with a broken leg?”
He winced. “No, that’s a new one.”
“She cut them off me,” Kaitlin almost screeched in his head, and he winced again. “I said I didn’t mind a little pain. I loved those pants.”
“I’ll buy you a new pair.”
“Rose can buy me some.”
He closed off the connection and relaxed back in his seat. He really did like this place. He’d have loved to have grown up in a house like this. Instead, he’d spent his first sixteen years in a townhouse in London. It hadn’t been a bad childhood; he’d had his sister for company. No one had abused them or anything, but there had been no love, either. He’d always gotten the impression from his foster parents that he and his sister were nothing but a job to them. And he hadn’t liked the city. He’d always been jealous of Jake, living on a vast country estate in the Highlands of Scotland. And while Martin wasn’t Jake’s real father, it had always been clear that he cared for Jake.
Quinn took a sip of his beer and thought about moving but couldn’t be bothered. Liz placed a sandwich in front of him, and he smiled up at her. She appeared to have relaxed a little. His powers were good for something.
Mel came in while he was eating.
“Beer in the fridge,” he said.
She nodded, got a bottle and sat down across from him. She sipped it, her eyes narrowing. If he hadn’t known better, he would have sworn she had never had a beer before. But that wasn’t possible. Everyone drank beer.
“Good?” he asked.
“Cold.”
They all ate and drank in silence for long minutes. It was almost companionable. Pete got up at one point and got them all another round. Liz made coffee and placed a mug in front of each of them. She opened a carton of cookies she’d found in the box of supplies.
Rose came in, grabbed a beer, and sat down next to him.
“Is she okay?” Quinn asked.
“I gave her a sleeping tablet. She’s fighting it, but…” She closed her eyes. “She’s under. I looked in on Martin as well. He’s asleep.”
“Good.”
She sat back, stretched out her legs and sipped her beer. “So, what do we do next?”
He glanced around the room. Did he want to talk about this here? Then he shrugged. “Try and get hold of Jake, I guess.”
Kaitlin had filled Rose in on everything that had happened as soon as she’d been close enough to make the link that morning. She would have told Jake. Hopefully, he would now have had time to process it and would have some useful ideas to throw into the mix.
Quinn yawned. He just wanted to stop moving for a while.
“I’ll go set up my laptop,” Rose said. “See if we can get hold of him.”
Quinn took his beer with him and followed her into a comfortable sitting room with floral patterned sofas around a big coffee table. She opened up the laptop on the table and sat down on the sofa facing it. He took the seat beside her, then glanced up. Mel hovered in the doorway. He gave a nod, and she came in and sat on the other side of Rose, keeping her distance. He was going to have words with her about that. But not right now.
Rose raised a brow. “Have you two argued?”
“No, and it’s none of your business.”
Jake appeared on the screen, Kane beside him, as well as Sadie and a man Quinn had never met but presumed to be Ethan Weiland, head of the Conclave and former enemy number one. Christ, the world had gone crazy.
“Shit,” Jake said, “you scared us there for a while.”
“And you weren’t in a plane crash. Think how we felt.”
“Are you going to introduce us?” Jake asked.
“This is Special Agent Melody Lyons of the FBI,” Quinn said. “She’s been investigating the death of Senator Gilpin and the rest of the oversight committee.”
“And she’s Quinn’s new girlfriend,” Rose said.
“Piss off.”
“According to Kaitlin, they spent last night holding hands.” Rose grinned. “Hey, I just thought I’d get it out there—we don’t want Kane getting any ideas about knocking her off.”
Quinn glanced at Mel, but her expression was impassive.
Jake shook his head. Kane said nothing. Sadie pursed her lips.
“Can we move on?” Quinn said. “We can stay here tonight. We all need a rest, but I don’t think we should remain any longer. They’re probably still looking for us. Do we have any information on who they are, other than Conclave?”
“Rogue Conclave,” Ethan said. “I’m trying to access records, but a lot were destroyed when everything went to shit. I’ll let you know when I find something.”
“Do that.”
“So where will you go?” Jake asked.
“Right now—fuck knows.” Quinn ran a hand through his hair. “But the Conclave—sorry, rogue Conclave—are closing in on the old tribe members and we need to get to them first. But that would be a damn sight easier if we knew where they were. Have we heard anything yet?”
“Nothing.” Jake said. “Stefan is monitoring the site 24/7, but so far we haven’t had a reply.”
“Well, let us know as soon as you do.” He thought for a moment. “In the meantime, I think we need to keep moving. Can you hire us a couple of vehicles—I’m sure Rose’s was called in. Arrange to have them driven out here and left where the tarmac hits the dirt road. We’ll pick them up there.”
“When?”
“First thing in the morning.”
“You don’t want to fly?”
“I think we’d all rather keep our feet on the ground for a day or two. We’ll head back toward Boston, stay on the move until we get a location. Then Martin, Mel, and I will head there. Rose can keep Kaitlin with her, until they can sort out a flight back to you.”
“You want to take the FBI agent with you to the tribe?” Kane spoke for the first time.
“Why not? We’ll get them away and to safety and then we’ll move on from there. Try and find the FBI link.”
“Well, it’s a sort of plan, I suppose.” Jake didn’t sound happy, but what was there to be happy about?
“Tell us if you hear anything new,” Quinn said. “Otherwise, we’ll call in tomorrow night.”
Rose switched off the connection and the screen went blank. Quinn twisted in his seat and glanced across at Mel. Her brows were drawn together in a frown of concentration.
“These old tribe me
mbers you spoke of—are they the descendants of the original people found in Africa?”
Actually, most of them were the actual original people who’d been found in Africa in 1878, but maybe it was best not to get into that. He made do with a simple, “Yes.”
“And on the call, two of the men and the woman were clearly your people,” she said. “You all look so alike. But who was the other man?”
“Sadie’s boyfriend,” Rose said. “His name is Ethan.”
She didn’t look convinced. “And what is the Conclave?”
“Just an organization he used to work for.”
Actually, he still did. Ethan had planned on disbanding the Conclave, but things hadn’t happened that way. Sadie had convinced him they’d be needed later. And she would know. Because apparently, Sadie’s gift was seeing the future.
“You’re not going to tell me any more?” Mel asked.
Rose grinned. “No. Not yet anyway. Maybe you could see if you could…persuade Quinn to tell you some more. He’s very susceptible to persuasion. Aren’t you, Quinn?”
“Piss off.”
Mel looked between the two of them. Would she try and persuade him? Part of him hoped so. But she just pushed herself to her feet. “I’m going to try and get some sleep.” And then she disappeared from the room.
He thought about going after her, but she did look tired. And sort of sad. He hated that. But at least the fatigue could be fixed. Then they’d get to the bottom of the sadness.
He wanted her. And he didn’t think there was a conflict of interest. There was no reason why it would interfere with what they had to do. He already knew that there was no way he was going to kill an FBI agent, so that wasn’t an option, whether they got up close and personal or not.
He smothered a yawn. He’d had zero sleep last night.
So, he’d go get another beer, find himself a lonely bed, and get some sleep.
And maybe later, he’d hunt down Special Agent Mel and see if he could remove that sad look from her face.
Chapter Eighteen
Mel slept for a long time.
It had been a deep dreamless sleep, and she woke up refreshed with the room growing dark around her. She’d just kicked off her shoes and crashed into bed still fully dressed. Now, she pushed herself up and looked around. The room was at the back of the house, bare but for a big dresser and a huge bed. Floor to ceiling windows opened up onto a veranda that ran around the whole circumference of the house. The walls were cream with tiny faded pink flowers and the bedspread matched. Someone had put a lot of thought into this house. It was sad to think of it lying empty.
