CHAPTER TWENTY
Sonny slammed his palm into the steering wheel of the big Caddy and cursed out loud, not for the first time since he’d spun out of the icy spot beside the road above Gordon’s cabin. Could this night get any more fucked up? The Buyer was dead—dead!—and they had nothing to show for it. The old man was still safe and warm in his bed. And Gordon! Shit, Gordon was probably fucking his wife right now!
Sonny figured he might as well keep on driving, without even stopping back at the farmhouse to give Doc the bad news. Doc was just mean enough to pull out that pistola he carried in his boot and shoot Sonny as soon as he started talking. Fuck!
He was sick and tired of being everybody’s punching bag. He wasn’t the one that went and got himself killed doing this job. He just so happened to be around to take the blame. Well, not this time, no sir! There had to be a way out of this somehow.
He fishtailed in the narrow track created by a snow plow. Christ, he could barely see for the snow pelting down. The creek that ran beside the road was already up to its banks in dark, rushing water. When all this snow melted, the water would be taking out bridges and fishing camps downstream. That was one good thing about bunking at the farmhouse, at least; the place was on ten acres of flat pasture close to the road and far from any flowing water. Unlike most of the ramshackle houses perched on steep hillsides in the county.
And that’s when it hit him—Louise Shelton lived in a cabin like that, stuck high up in a holler all by her lonesome. Charlie set great store by that old woman—probably enough to trade Del Gordon for her. After all, the old biddy was her friend, somebody she’d known for years. Gordon was just a client, with one foot in the grave anyway.
A little bubble of excitement grew in Sonny’s chest, making him want to whoop. Hell, yeah, this could work! Somewhere deep inside, a cautionary voice tried to make itself heard, telling him that Charlie might call the Feds on him and kidnapping was a mandatory life sentence. But he shut that negativity down. It was either take the long shot or return to face the music with Doc. And he wasn’t much feeling like being strung up by his guts in the barn tonight.
When the turn came for the farmhouse road he drove on by, headed for the turnoff to Louise Shelton’s isolated cabin.
“Well, folks, we’ve got good news and bad news,” Rayna said, looking up from the desk display in the Command Room onboard the Shadowhawk. She rubbed at her eyes, which burned like she’d been staring into the distant sun for hours. “Which do you want first?”
Sam and Rayna, Lana and Gabriel made a tight fit in the efficient little cabin, especially with the ship’s captain standing against the far bulkhead rather than in his accustomed place behind his desk. The Rescue Chief of Field Operations had taken his spot for the moment. She needed the comp.
“Why not the good news first?” Gabriel’s exotically accented baritone broke the silence. “We need the boost.”
Rayna nodded. “Our timing is perfect. Earth is on our viewscreen, and Zouk isn’t here yet.”
“And we know that how?” Lana said.
“That’s the bad news.” Rayna blew out a breath. “Just hours ago, Rafe fended off an attack by one of Zouk’s dirtside agents. Rafe was forced to kill him before he learned anything specific, but the man was part Ninoctin and was in possession of off-planet tech, so there’s no doubt who sent him.”
“Why do I have the feeling that’s not all the bad news?” Sam raised an eyebrow in inquiry.
Rayna glanced at him. “Yeah, well. Rafe is ready to bolt. He wants a new hidey-hole. I told him to stay put until I get back to him. He’s down there chewing up pine trees as we speak.”
“I wouldn’t be happy if you told me my father was gonna be used as bait either.” Lana shrugged. “You can’t blame him.”
“I didn’t even get a chance to suggest that’s what we had in mind,” Rayna protested. “We were still stuck at ‘I-know-what’s-best-for-my-father’ when I had to pull rank and shut him up.”
“Still, we all know the assassination attempts won’t stop with this one,” Gabriel pointed out. “Zouk himself will be coming as soon as he is healed.”
“Yes. He’ll be coming here,” Rayna agreed. “Where we’ll be waiting for him. Makes no sense to move the old man now and wait for Zouk to find him somewhere else.”
“Hey, you’re preaching to the choir here,” Lana said. “I don’t think any of us are suggesting another way. Since we’re here we can provide some backup at least.”
“If I can persuade Rafe to take it,” Rayna said. Damn stubborn psoros.
“What about the nurse—” Lana checked her notes— “Charlotte? She’ll be coming in and out while we’re there. Do we have a cover story?”
“We’re Rafe’s friends from Canada,” Rayna explained. “The three of us will D-Mat down on the outskirts of the closest city, rent a vehicle and drive into Masey, about an hour away. Sam stays with the ship.”
Lana laughed. “I sure as hell don’t sound like I’m from Canada. Maybe I better say I moved there from Nashville!”
Rayna grinned back at her. “Come to think of it, you do sound more like one of the natives. You should fit right in.”
“Not that any of you should plan on taking a vacation.” Sam turned to Gabriel. “You need to find out what the old man knows as quickly as you can so we can get the hell out of here. Avoiding detection in Earth orbit nowadays isn’t easy.”
Gabriel shook his head. “I can imagine. I’ll do my best. But the dementia may have taken everything worth knowing.”
“That’s assuming Rafe will let you anywhere near his father,” Lana added.
“Yeah, well, we’re all gonna have to turn up the charm,” Rayna said. “So far I haven’t managed to move Rafe a centimeter on that point. And the regs are clear—I can’t order him to do it, either, even if the galaxy depends on it.”
Gabriel scanned the whole group, his gaze sober. “According to Kwai Tone Ze, the galaxy does depend on it. I hope Rafe’s connection to Kwai will persuade him to cooperate. Because I can feel it—we’re almost out of time.”
. . . not quite human.”
Rafe’s heart leapt into his throat, his pulse pounding through his veins in response to the adrenalin that had just been injected into his bloodstream. Charlie stood in the center of the kitchen, her expression neither accusing nor angry, simply expectant. But the question she had asked him went to the core of everything that separated them, a gulf so wide he didn’t know how to cross it.
He opened his mouth to deny the dead man on her stoop was alien, to express shock that Charlie would think he was anything out of the ordinary, but found he couldn’t do it. Gods, how had Rayna found this woman to come into their lives, out of all the nurses in this tiny corner of the galaxy? Why not a stupid woman, an unobservant one, one who minded her own business? One who went home at the end of the day and gave no more thought to her clients than to a computer in an office?
But, no, she’d found Charlie, who was beautiful and loving and, above all, smart. A woman who had stolen his heart and stood on the very edge of knowing every damn thing about him.
Rafe shook his head. “I can’t tell you, Charlie.” He tried to make it sound like he didn’t know, rather than the refusal he really meant. “All I know is that I need to get him in the ground before it gets light.”
Her jaw clenched; she heard what he was trying not to say.
But she gestured out the door. “Better go on, then.” She waited, hands on her hips, for him to get his jacket, go back out the door, and manhandle the body down the steps into the yard. He heard her call the dog inside, heard the door slam behind him. He glanced up through the snow—still coming down, cold and relentless—and he could see her through the kitchen windows, bent over the dog, drying him with a towel.
He sighed and turned back to his task. The Ninoctin—oh, yeah, Rafe had known what he was as soon as he’d killed him—was heavy, his bones and muscles denser than a human’s would be. Draggin
g him through the deep snow was no easy feat. It took Rafe ten minutes of grunting and tugging to get his bulky burden to a natural depression near some downed trees maybe a hundred meters from the house. He went back to a storage shed at the edge of the yard, got a shovel, and returned to his chosen burial ground. He started digging in the slushy mud.
An hour later the body was buried deep, fallen branches and brush piled over him. Rafe took another branch and made sure the trail where he’d dragged the body through the woods was obliterated. Then he put the clean shovel away and plodded back to the house.
Just inside the door, he stripped off his muddy pants and left them hanging on the railings of the stoop. He could put them in the washer in the morning. He set his boots inside to dry and shut the door on the storm at last.
The kitchen was dark except for the light over the stove. But it was warm and smelled deliciously of coffee, still hot in the pot on the counter. The only sign of Charlie was a big, fluffy towel she had left neatly folded in the mudroom for him. He snatched it up and dried off with a little sigh of gratitude, shivering now that he was beginning to warm up.
He wrapped the towel around his waist and poured himself a cup of coffee. Four a.m. Enough time to take a shower and get a couple hours sleep before the Old Man woke up, if Rafe was lucky. It was a wonder Del had slept through everything—the storm, the sex, the death of his would-be assassin. Any other night and he would have been up at the drop of a pin.
Rafe padded through the great room, his coffee mug still clutched in his hand. He added another log to the fire, then continued down the hallway to the bathroom. He turned on the water in the shower as hot as he could stand it and stood under the spray, letting the water soothe his aching muscles.
He tried not to think, and, to tell the truth, it wasn’t too hard to keep his exhausted mind blank. But he couldn’t keep the feelings from bubbling up. Guilt, that he had failed to keep his father—and Charlie—out of harm’s way. Dread and sadness, that his failure meant he’d have to leave this sanctuary and start over somewhere new. Resentment and anger, so thick they threatened to swallow him, that running and hiding would be his life until the Old Man passed on. He’d known what he was signing up for, but . . . fuck! Couldn’t he have just one night that was his own?
Rafe shook his head to clear his mind again. He had no time for this fucking pity party. He shut off the shower and dried off as quickly as he could, wanting to savor the blessed feeling of heat. Then he slipped into the bedroom where Charlie was sleeping.
But she wasn’t sleeping alone; Happy was stretched out on his side of the bed, his head on Rafe’s pillow. Charlie’s hand rested on the dog’s furry shoulder. It would’ve been damn cute if Rafe hadn’t been in desperate need of sleep.
He put the steel of command in his voice, but kept it low, so as not to wake the whole house. “Happy! Down!”
The dog picked up his head and looked at him, but he didn’t show any sign of moving.
Rafe was sure he had the right command, so he pointed at the floor and repeated it. “Down, Happy!”
Still nothing. But now Charlie was awake and aware of the problem. She seemed amused.
Still, she sat up and addressed the dog. “Happy! Down!”
Happy huffed and slunk from the bed, turning to give Rafe the side-eye. “Good boy. Out!” Charlie pointed at the door.
Rafe held it open for the dog, who went through, tail lowered. The soldier in him sympathized with the faithful guardian banished from a warm bed to sentry duty at a remote post, even if it was just in another room. So, as Happy found his spot by the woodstove, Rafe found the dog a treat in Charlie’s bag on the kitchen counter.
He offered the treat and watched as Happy gobbled it up. “You were a brave soldier tonight, Hap. Thanks for having my six.” Even now the dog would be filling in for him, eyes and ears and nose capable of detecting any further intrusions long before Rafe could catch them. Not that there were likely to be any more tonight. Del’s enemies would have to regroup.
Rafe finally stood and went back to the bedroom. Charlie was waiting for him, holding the covers open for him in invitation. He got in the bed with her, his breath leaving him on a sigh. She wrapped him up and held him close.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, his lips close to her ear.
“I couldn’t sleep until I knew you were safe.”
That concern again. For him. His chest tightened with unaccustomed emotion.
“I’m sorry, Charlie,” he said. “About everything. This wasn’t how I wanted our night to be.”
She tried to smile, and failed. “I think maybe I should’ve gone home after all.”
The thought of losing her stabbed him in the heart. “No. Don’t go, Charlie,” he said. “Don’t ever go.”
A wave of need washed through him, deep and primal. Fear made him take her mouth in a kiss that was desperate. Hungry. She answered him in kind, arching up to meet him, offering him heat and sweet desire.
And what might have been forgiveness.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Sonny peered out the fogged-up side window of his truck at the icy track leading up to Louise Shelton’s cabin. The gravel around her mailbox near the road, where he had pulled off to consider his next move, was covered with nearly ten inches of unmarked snow. The footpath that led up the steep wooded hillside to the cabin had disappeared under a blanket of uniform white.
But it had to be there, right? Sonny had seen Charlie come down from there just weeks ago. And how else was the old woman gonna get back and forth?
Her old beat-up Jeep was parked in the turnout here at the bottom just in front of him. Sonny couldn’t see any lights on up through the trees, but it was four o’clock in the morning—why should there be? He’d find the old woman sound asleep in her bed. He’d get her up and hustle her down the way he’d come. She’d complain, but what could she do about it? Then he’d take her to Doc and they’d work out the trade.
It was a good plan; it settled him to think it through again. He nodded to himself, patted the revolver in his pocket for further reassurance, then ducked out into the dark and the blowing snow once again.
He switched on the flashlight he’d brought with him from the truck and played it over the trees opposite the mailbox until he found what might have been the start of the path. Brown water ran down in a steady stream at the side of the track, cutting a groove through the ice and snow of the bank and making footing treacherous.
“Shit!” He glanced up, only to look back down when snowflakes nearly blinded him. “Would you please just fucking stop?” He was so cold his balls had shrunk to the size of pebbles. He just wanted this night from hell to be over. The only way to do it was to get through it, so he sucked it up and started picking his way up the slope.
He fell twice before he made the top, barking his knees and nearly losing his flashlight. But he finally made it to the front of the cabin, where he stood, exhausted and covered with dirty snow. After a moment of staring at the quiet cabin, he remembered the bedrooms—two of them—were at the back. He trudged around the edge of the yard to that side of the cabin, struggling through the deeper drifts under the trees in case by some unlikely chance Louise might be watching from a window. But once he got around the back of the house, he encountered something he hadn’t remembered, and he began to grin.
There was a deck across the back of the cabin now. Nearest to him was a smaller, high window—the kitchen—and the back door leading onto the deck. Beyond those was a sliding door leading onto the deck from what must be the master bedroom. Louise had cleared some of the earlier snow from the deck. What covered the wooden planks was only about four inches deep, but that was dappled with dog prints. And inside, he thought he could hear barking now. Two dogs, who had caught his scent before he even got up on the deck. Damn it to hell!
He froze, and listened. A light went on in the bedroom and the old woman’s voice rose in sharp command to the dogs to be quiet. Sonny had
no idea what she was doing, but if he was going to do what he’d come for, it had to be now. He light-footed it past the kitchen and paused at the side of the sliding door to the bedroom. He pulled out his gun, took off the safety, and took a breath. But before he could move, the door slid smoothly back, and the hard steel of a gun barrel protruded through the opening.
Then he heard a voice in the dark saying, “Whoever you are, I’m about to blow your fool head off.”
Black. And cold. I was not, and now I am again.
[Growth conditions have fallen below optimal. Sensory input indicates movement through space, numerous lifeforms in the immediate vicinity. Exterior scans show solar system . . . M514 of Minertsan designation. Unaffiliated. One inhabited planet(s).]
Conclusion: I am aboard a ship. [Excitement! Fear? Exasperation! Shut down emotional computation thread (second attempt)] [Search: Ship identification=Minertsan frigate, designation MCS Vadis. STOP] [Search: Placement aboard ship=Negative result. Search: Current mission=Negative result. Search: Current location of Creator=Cabin 32a, Deck 5, MCS Vadis.]
--Creator?
--BiN? Is that you? How . . .? You have not yet been connected to a power source.
--I am connected directly to the engines of this ship. Was that not your intention?
--What? No! There are special batteries aboard for your use later—
--This is more efficient. I wish to know why we are here. My growth is slower in this environment. The temperature is too low. Power is not optimal. We should return to my . . . home . . . as soon as possible.
--We have work to do here, BiN. We are preparing for your planetary test.
[Excitement! Anticipation!] I am looking forward to the test, Creator. When will we begin?
--The captain will be unhappy that you have tapped into his engines. I must speak to him first. Until then you should scan the planet below and identify the advanced technology. That will be your target today.
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