Renee Simons Special Edition

by Renee Simons

  "To help."

  "This is heavy work."

  "I'll stop when you do."

  They worked side by side for the next two hours, managing to load the stove and the double sink and its plumbing into the truck. The refrigerator proved too heavy, so they removed the door and heaved that onto the truck bed.

  "That's enough for today," Stormwalker declared.

  "Don't quit on my account," Zan protested. "I'm not tired."

  "Then you're a better man than I am, Red." He gave her a look filled with irony, then turned and went into the barn. He rummaged through the contents of an old, scarred military foot locker and came up with a change of clothes.

  Zan followed him. "Lucky you have those things."

  "They belonged to my cousin, Cat. He's the only guy I know anywhere near my size."

  As they walked back to the newspaper, Zan wondered where he would sleep tonight. "Does he live here on the reservation? Maybe you could stay with him so you wouldn't have to sleep in the loft."

  "He's got a house full of kids. That's more humanity than I can stand right now. The barn suits me fine."

  He took her hand in his and Zan examined his palm.

  "You got some blisters, today," she said.

  "Haven't done any real work to speak of in years." He made an off-hand gesture. "They'll heal and make calluses and the next job'll be easier."

  The next day, Zan stood in the doorway of the RV and wondered how he was doing with the cleanup. Once again, he refused her offer of help. "You've got work of your own. Leave me to mine."

  "I keep forgetting what a sexist you are," she taunted.

  He put his arms around her and held her close as he gazed into her eyes. "At the moment, what you can do with your brain is far more important than what you can do with your muscles," he kissed the tip of her nose and then each cheek, "while I have only brawn to supply and must be relegated to hard labor."

  She made an impudent remark about his "brawn", then quickly darted out of reach, but her concentration had been minimal. She packed what was surely too much lunch for two and started back to the house. Or the place where the house once stood.

  When she reached the site, she saw that he no longer worked alone. She watched him for a moment, as he and a helper lifted a charred panel of plaster board and manhandled it into the truck.

  Something hot and churning stirred in her as she stared at him. Her gaze fixed on the powerful body, bare to the waist and revealing the play of muscle beneath warm, brown skin glistening with sweat. Her fingers tingled with the memory of the velvet feel of that skin. She recalled the last time they'd been together and how his strength and tenderness had brought a fulfillment wondrously new to her.

  She closed her eyes for a moment. My God, Zan, you'd think you were sixteen, with your first crush. But she knew it was more than that. She loved him. She'd never thought the word before, or heard it from him, but it was true. The knowledge frightened her, as did the idea that this risky relationship might not have a future. She still hadn't found proof of his innocence, only clues that told her Dar hadn't been the man she'd thought he was. The possibility of failure overshadowed the joy she found in Stormwalker's arms. It did nothing to cool her desire.

  She opened her eyes and shook off the yearning as she approached the group. Stormwalker had been joined by four others: Katti and her sister, John-Two Hunter and a young man introduced as Hunter's son.

  She added the food and drinks to what already waited on a trestle table set up under a tree in the side yard. Zan handed Katti a glass of iced tea. "Why aren't you at work?" she asked.

  "I'm on vacation," she replied. "Saw you two out here yesterday and figured you could use some help. When I realized you'd copped out on this poor guy, I recruited a couple of people to take up the slack."

  Zan looked from one grimy face to the other and countered seriously, "Well, the ratio is about right."

  After a momentary silence, the owner of the general store hooted loudly and nudged Katti. "You asked for that one, Daughter." He slapped his thigh and laughed raucously. "The ratio is about right."

  The others joined him in laughter that seemed to free them from the seriousness with which they'd worked. They gathered around the table for a relaxed lunch break.

  *****

  Now that Stormwalker had all the help he needed, Zan went back to her computer. She probed the Agency's records, cross checking files and coordinating data. When a knock sounded on the door, she leaned over and popped the latch. The door opened and Stormwalker leaned in.

  "Can I come in?"

  Training prompted her to blank out the screen, but instinct told her to trust him. Hoping that trust was not misplaced, she nodded. "Sure. Come ahead."

  He settled on a corner of her work table. "How's it going?"

  "It's going. Did you take a break?"

  "We finished. Everything's cleared away, so when my mother gets back she won't see the mess, just a place to rebuild."

  "Does she know about the fire?"

  "Mike went up to Pierre to tell her."

  "When is she due back?"

  "I'm not sure. She was really upset so he convinced her to take some extra time and visit relatives in Pine Ridge." He leaned over and glanced at the monitor. "Where are you?"

  "I just pulled up the medical files."

  "Can I sit in?"

  "Sure." She silently crossed her fingers. Mac's instructions about sharing knowledge had extended to Stormwalker. The judgment call was hers to make. Maybe the time had come to see how accurate that judgment was.

  His eyes held a soft expression, like sunlight shimmering on a calm lake. "I like that you trust me," he whispered. He leaned toward her and brushed her lips with his. "I know it can't be easy."

  Her lips warmed to his touch and the feeling traveled smoothly through her body. It wouldn't be easy sitting side by side with this man without remembering their lovemaking. She gave herself a mental boot and turned to the screen.

  He watched her sort through the database. "You're looking for someone who's had throat surgery, aren't you?"

  "That I am," she murmured as a list of five agents, one woman and four men, emerged from the maze of data. "Even if I didn't know the woman agent, we can certainly rule her out. Recognize any of the others?"

  He ran a finger down the screen. "Just this one."

  His arm brushed hers. She tingled pleasantly where skin touched skin and glanced at him. His smile told her he, too, enjoyed the contact.

  "Working together seems to have an advantage or two."

  "The operative word being 'work'," she said, trying to suppress a laugh. She pointed to the name he'd chosen.

  "That name is familiar to me, too. How do you know Ian Fields?"

  "During my training, he briefed me on the Agency's standard operating procedures."

  "What did you think of him?"

  Stormwalker shrugged. "He seemed okay. Very urbane and sophisticated, like some of the embassy guys I met in London."

  Zan smiled. "I used to call him 'Mr. Continental' because of his salt-and-pepper hair and the way he dressed. And of course, he was always the perfect gentleman."

  "Our guy could have been any one of these agents," Stormwalker said, "but remember, Sawyer didn't appear to have any hair."

  "Let's pull up Ian's records."

  Zan's heart raced as they read the file. "Look at this," she said. Her voice shook with excitement. "He had a cancerous larynx removed only months ago and he's still undergoing chemotherapy." She looked at Stormwalker.

  "That could explain the baldness," he said. "Let's check out the others on the list."

  Of the agents other than the women, one had passed away six months after surgery and two had retired, one to New Zealand and one to Majorca, leaving Ian Fields as the chief candidate to fill the size 48 suit of Mr. Sawyer.

  Of course, it was possible that either of the retirees could have made the trip here, but when she read the bios of all three men,
she knew Ian, and only he, fit the profile. The fact that he'd graduated from a prestigious military academy in England had particular resonance.

  "This stuff is too familiar. I've seen it all before."

  "Where?"

  She brought up Dar's biography and they compared the two.

  The men had graduated two years apart from the same Canadian university and had, in fact, received appointments to the same military academy in Great Britain. They served in different regiments but both were recruited for work in Military Intelligence. After Ian's separation from the service, he came to the FSA. Dar followed only a few months later.

  Zan leaned back in her chair and laced her fingers behind her head.

  "What are you thinking?" Stormwalker asked.

  "That they had such similar backgrounds, yet the only evidence of a relationship I ever saw was the day Ian brought Dar to see me about getting computer training. Doesn't it seem logical that they would have known each other pretty well?"

  "Unless they were in the same graduating class or military unit, they might have known each other casually or not at all before they came to the Agency. Even once they got to the FSA there's no guarantee they would have developed a friendship. Dar and I never did and we worked together in the field."

  "Why didn't you?"

  He shrugged. "The chemistry was wrong."

  She hated having to call Mac, but he had access to information they needed. Without even a thought that he would be anywhere but at his desk, she dialed his office and pressed the speaker button.

  "Yeah," he answered. "McLaren here."

  She chuckled. "How professional."

  "If you call this time of night, that's what you get," he said. "So are you over being angry with me?"

  "This is business, not personal."

  "I see." He sounded resigned that they still had issues to resolve. "Why are you up so late?"

  "Stormwalker and I have been into the files and we have some questions."

  "What files would those be?" he asked, clearly irritated.

  "Nothing compromising, Mac."

  "Major?"

  "Zan has kept me out of sensitive areas. I haven't seen anything I shouldn't."

  "Okay, so what's your question, Zan?"

  "Were Dar and Ian Fields friends?"

  "Not so anyone noticed."

  "When they were processed into the Agency, didn't anyone question their similar backgrounds?"

  "Remember that I was only an operative back then, but I know the Agency was actively recruiting people, so it wouldn't have been unusual for two candidates to come from the same source. Each came highly recommended by our friends in the UK."

  "The same guys that gave the world Burgess, McLean and Philby?"

  "Yeah, well, it happens."

  "It was Ian who brought Dar around that first time. So if they knew each other, why pretend they didn't?" She glanced over at Stormwalker. "Though I must admit, the major doesn't agree with me about this. And he may be right. Maybe I'm just drawing conclusions from a string of coincidences." The silence on the other end seemed interminable. "But let me tell you what else we discovered about Mr. Fields."

  Mac chuckled. "Uh oh, all that formality means he's been demoted."

  She explained their suspicions and their findings. "We need you to check the locations of the two retired agents. Make sure they're where they're supposed to be. And do the same for Fields. I need to know where he is this week."

  "The others will take longer. But hang on while I check the database for Ian." There was another long pause during which Zan heard the click of his keyboard as he searched. Finally, he came back on.

  "He's out of town for the next two weeks . . . St. Louis."

  "Can you verify he's actually there?"

  "Yes."

  "Please do. I don't think you'll find him. I think he's here." Zan heard the creak of his chair.

  "You said he has a partner. What can you tell me about him?"

  "Nothing."

  "All right. I'll look into the matter and get back to you. In the meantime, keep digging."

  Hours later, Stormwalker placed a soft kiss on her temple and went to the door. "I'm going to sleep, Red. I suggest you do the same. This will keep."

  She looked up at him with that foggy expression he'd come to recognize whenever she worked at the computer, as if he'd pulled her back kicking and screaming from some totally enthralling other-world. "You could sleep on the bunk bed."

  "If I stay, neither of us will get any sleep." Even from a distance, he could tell she followed his train of thought.

  "It has been a struggle to concentrate on work with you close by," she said with a shy smile.

  "Exactly. Besides, I don't want to leave the animals unguarded all night."

  She grinned at him. "But you'll leave me here defenseless and alone."

  He gave her a look filled with irony. "Alone, maybe, but defenseless? Never. I'll see you in the morning."

  With him gone, the camper seemed empty in a way it never had before and, without his overpowering presence, much too big for one person. She shut down the computer and went outside. At the moment, nothing seemed as important as being with him.

  She found the barn door slightly ajar. Its well-oiled hinges worked smoothly as she slipped inside. Although she expected familiar stable smells, her nose twitched at the harsh smell of cleaning fluid. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a lashing of flame cut through a pile of hay and called out a warning to Stormwalker. She dove to her left and used her body to smother the flame. As she struggled to her feet something hard struck the side of her head with a sharp crack. An electric blue-white light flashed in the darkness; then, even the darkness disappeared.

  *****

  The sun shone through the window as she woke in the reservation's clinic. She felt the bandage behind her ear. Pain shot to the top of her skull. Otherwise, her body seemed to be in working order. Dr. Josey confirmed that fact when he came to check on her.

  "You suffered a mild concussion," he explained, "nothing more. A day or two of rest will take care of that."

  "And the weapon of choice?"

  "They found a length of two-by-four beside you. If it had hit you square, your injury would have been much worse. Your assailant caught you at an angle hard enough to knock you out but not do any permanent damage."

  "How is Stormwalker?" she asked.

  "He's fine."

  "Can I see him?"

  The doctor shook his head. "He left once he knew you were in no danger. He didn't say where."

  Zan watched him with a thoughtful expression. "That rest you prescribed . . . does it have to happen here?"

  He removed the blood pressure cuff from her arm. "I want to make sure you get the time you need. If you leave, I have to trust you'll do as I prescribe."

  "You can," she assured him.

  "Rest means just that . . . no excitement or strenuous activity. It means putting your feet up while you settle for the distraction of a good book and nothing more."

  She nodded. "Okay. I'll do as you say."

  "Good," he said with a smile. "Mike Eagle said to call him when you were ready to leave. He'll come over with his pickup."

  Mike provided transport back to the camper, but couldn't tell her where Stormwalker was. "Don't fret about him. He'll turn up before long."

  "I can't help fretting, Mike. He's in danger and it's my job to keep an eye on him."

  "I wasn't a fan of yours in the beginning, but I have to admit you've done a pretty good job of protecting him so far."

  "Well, I can't keep it up if I don't know where he is. So if you hear anything, please let me know."

  "Will do," Mike agreed affably. "I like the idea of you looking out for my nephew. You'd stand by him, not like that other one, his wife, who ran away when the going got rough."

  "I haven't been totally steadfast myself, Mike."

  "All I know is, you seem to come through when it counts. And don't tell me
it's part of your job when I know different."

  "Do you?"

  "Am I wrong?"

  She sighed.

  "I didn't think so." Mike pulled up to the camper. "You go inside and get some rest. I'll fetch you when dinner's ready."

  "That's not necessary. I can take care of myself."

  "My nephew would want it that way, and so do I."

  She nodded and went inside the RV. She gave in to her aching head and double vision and lay down. Within seconds, sleep claimed her. When Mike woke her hours later, she couldn't decide if Stormwalker's voice whispering love and his lips on hers had been real or a dream.

  Stormwalker's heart had hammered in his chest as he'd carried Zan to the clinic. It never stopped until Dr. Josey declared the head injury minor. The next day, he borrowed Mike's truck and went to the hotel.

  Sawyer had checked out, the desk clerk told him. "How long ago?" Stormwalker asked.

  The young man looked at his watch. "'Bout an hour."

  Stormwalker nodded his thanks. He took the stairs two at a time, intent upon searching the room before the housekeeper made it ready for the next guest. He opened the door with little trouble and eased inside.

  He found an unmade bed and a bathroom cluttered with damp towels. The dresser drawers were empty, but a search of waste paper baskets yielded the torn bits of a single price tag.

  "Wonder what the guy bought," he said aloud, "and where." The fact that he'd found only one tag told him the man had probably removed the others before he returned to the hotel. "One must've slipped by him," he added into the silence. "Well, what the hell - nobody's perfect."

  He pieced the tag together in his palm and studied it as he sat on the edge of the bed. Something crumpled beneath his weight. He rose and shook out the spread, catching a sales slip from a local sporting goods store as it fluttered to the floor.

  "Sloppy, sloppy, sloppy," he muttered while welcoming the carelessness that had given him a clue to the man's next move. "A hunting we will go. . . ." He sang softly as his gaze traveled down the list of items that included clothing, camping equipment, rifles, ammo. "Can't imagine who the prey will be."

  Stormwalker stopped at the store where Sawyer had made his purchases. He gave his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light within. The place appeared much as he remembered. Dark and cluttered, it smelled of rubber and powder and gun oil. The musky odor came as easily from the collective scent of generations of hunters and outdoorsmen as the stuffed animals that stood randomly placed around the sales floor.