Lost in Shadows

by CJ Lyons

  A chilly finger of fear ran up his spine, and his hand went to his Glock. It wasn’t possible, not after all they’d been through, it didn’t make any sense—but how did Vinnie know his sister’s name unless she was working for The Preacher?

  He looked over at her, desperate to believe that she hadn’t betrayed him, that there was one person on this mountain that he could depend upon.

  Her eyes were half closed and a strange smile played across her face as if she was remembering a particularly sweet moment.

  “And your mom,” she prompted, still not looking at him, lost in her memories, “tell me about your mom. She wasn’t a cop, was she?”

  She leaned forward, waiting his reply. Lucky saw no trace of deceit in her face, but still, he tightened his grip on the Glock, held it beneath his jacket where it was out of sight. This was getting too freaky.

  “No, she wasn’t.” He fought to keep his voice level. “Mom was the toughest of us all. She drove a Metro bus for twenty-three years.”

  Her eyes popped open, and she sucked in her breath as if he’d answered her prayers. A wide grin crossed her face. “Oh my God,” she said with a musical laugh that echoed from the cave walls. “You’re Mrs. Cavanaugh’s baby boy!”

  It was the sound of her laughter that brought the memory back in full force to Lucky. He’d heard that laugh once before, six years ago, on the day he’d joined the ATF. A hot, August afternoon.

  “You were eating an Italian ice,” he said, releasing the Glock.

  She nodded. “I was the last passenger on your mom’s bus. I was waiting for Michael to get out of a counterfeiting symposium. Your mom was waiting for you—she bought us both ices and talked about how proud she was of all her kids, that she could finally retire now that her baby boy finally got himself a real job.”

  “Cherry Italian ice,” he continued, lost in the memory now.

  He’d walked into a wall of heat and humidity when he left the air conditioning of the Treasury Building and spotted his mom’s bus sitting at the curb. He’d stepped onto to it, surprised to see that she wasn’t alone.

  A gorgeous, dark-haired woman with flashing eyes and a rich, body-stirring laugh sat with Elaine Cavanaugh, Italian ice melting down her arm in a scarlet streak. He’d watched, mesmerized as she grinned and licked the syrup like a child, then crammed the rest of the succulent treat into her mouth, smearing more scarlet syrup over her face.

  “Your hair was short then,” he said.

  He’d wiped her face with his handkerchief before noticing her wedding band. Then he’d given it to her to finish. He remembered thinking that the best ones were always taken.

  “I still have that handkerchief,” she said.

  Lucky looked up at that. “Why?”

  “Don’t know. Just could never bear to throw it away for some reason. It’s at the cabin now.”

  She shivered, looked away. “I don’t believe in fate, Karma, God’s big plan—whatever you want to call it,” she said, her voice sounding distant. “Not since Michael. There’s no such thing as signs.”

  Lucky wondered if she was talking to him or herself. Didn’t matter. If there was one thing he’d learned over the years, it was that there was a reason for everything, whether it was a chemical reaction or two subatomic particles colliding. Cause and effect ruled his universe. “And I don’t believe in coincidence.”

  She turned back to him, the full weight of her gaze on him as if she depended on him to provide the answers she needed. “You think we met for a reason? Like God knew we needed each other?”

  After last month, Lucky wasn’t certain if he believed in God anymore. But one thing he was certain of, he couldn’t have made it this far without Vinnie.

  “I know I need you,” he told her. “Isn’t that enough?”

  She worried her lower lip with her teeth for a moment, then surprised him by reaching over and framing his face with her hands. When she lowered her lips onto his it wasn’t with the animal passion of last night, but something quieter, more intimate. As if she were baring her soul to Lucky.

  He stopped thinking and pulled her closer. As the embrace deepened, Lucky forgot about The Preacher, his plans to kill thousands, the men with guns trying to kill them.

  His entire universe consisted of the woman in his arms, the woman who was quickly burrowing her way into his heart. For the first time in a long while, he felt something stir his soul, breaking through the wall of ice that had enshrouded him.

  CHAPTER 21

  Vinnie woke with Lucky in her arms. He laid sideways, his face cradled between her breasts, his breath coming in soft, snuffling snores. They hadn’t made love, had merely talked themselves into an exhausted slumber.

  She shifted her weight, her leg was falling asleep, and he made a small noise like a child. She wasn’t surprised that he craved the security of another warm body. He’d told her what The Preacher had done to him—well some of it, she filled in a lot of the blanks herself.

  She understood what he’d gone through afterward, it was very similar to her own nightmare after Michael had been shot. Understood all too well, maybe.

  Vinnie remembered her own feelings of denial and numbness, as if she could stave off the outside world from ever breaching her defenses again. Even two years later, she preferred the peace and quiet of her cabin most of the time, although she was slowly beginning to forge new bonds with the world beyond Lost River.

  Still, there were times when the slightest thing would trigger the same feelings of anger and frustration that she had felt watching Michael slip away, unable to do anything about it.

  Nights when she would stalk the forest, ranting at a God who would allow this to happen, rainy days stuck inside when she would vent her fury on the only other targets available: herself and Michael.

  Even though that anger was finally beginning to fade, the pain of Michael’s loss still remained. Sometimes it felt as if he had taken the best part of her heart with him. That it would be forever lost.

  There was no way Vinnie would ever risk feeling that pain again. She was getting her life together, she couldn’t let Lucky explode her frail serenity.

  Vinnie looked down at the sleeping man. His specialty was demolitions. Dangerous stuff—she would need to be especially careful around him from now on. Her life, at least her heart, might depend on it.

  He probably had a mild concussion from his fall, she should wake him, check his pupils and neuro exam. Not a good idea, she told herself.

  She couldn’t afford a repeat of last night’s passion, and she had a feeling that if he woke like this, in her arms, they would end up making love again. True love, not just sex. That would ruin everything.

  She would get him off the mountain alive. Then he’d go his way, speed off to his next encounter with The Preacher or some other man with a gun intent on destroying lives.

  While Vinnie would return to the quiet solace of her forest.

  It was the only way for both of them to escape from this alive and whole.

  Carefully, she slipped out from under his weight. The fire was low. She grabbed her headlamp and hurried into the other cavern to gather more wood.

  He shook himself awake with a shiver. Where was Vinnie? Lucky looked around the cavern, her coat was still there, so she couldn’t be far.

  He climbed to his feet, feeling like an old man, aching from head to toe, but reasonably steady. He’d slept better in Vinnie’s arms than he had in weeks.

  No nightmares chasing him. In fact, he’d come up with the beginnings of a plan while he had dreamed. For the first time since Christmas, he felt energized, ready to face the world.

  Ready to face The Preacher. He slid into his T-shirt, his arm didn’t feel as painful and the bandages were dry, then moved to the edge of the cavern to relieve himself. Tons of water cascaded down, mere inches away in a hypnotic blur. He had an urge to reach a hand out, try to touch the rushing wall of energy, even though he knew the water would pull him into its embrace, tumble him
down to his death.

  He was returning to the cavern when he spotted Vinnie, hands full of wood, coming from the opposite direction. Her braid was unraveling, leaving dark tendrils straggling free in the misty wind that sighed through the caves. There were dark circles under her eyes, and the look on her face was one of grim determination.

  Lucky wished he’d never dragged her into this. It was too much to ask of any civilian. But Vinnie had never flinched, never once complained, had proved invaluable. She’d been one of the best partners he’d ever had. And that included Chase Westin and KC.

  Vinnie bent over to drop the load of wood and build the fire back up. Lucky smiled, appreciating her beauty despite the circumstances.

  He hoped Chase and KC postponed the wedding; suddenly he had an urge to be there to see them exchange vows. He wanted them to meet Vinnie as well.

  But first he needed to ensure her safety. And stop The Preacher.

  The two seemed mutually exclusive, but Lucky was working the problem, trying to find a way. The lives of thousands versus the life of one woman—the equation was easy to solve logically, the solution not so easy to live with.

  One step at a time, he told himself, moving over to where she sat on her heels, poking at the fire. His fingers reached down to smooth her hair. She jerked away, looked up. What had he done now? He lowered himself onto a rock beside her.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  She gave a small shake of her head, and just like that, he was shut out, an invisible wall between them.

  Seemed like he wasn’t the only one doing some soul-searching. Maybe it was for the best. However this ended, he was certain to hurt her in some way. Better to minimize the potential pain for them both, keep it professional.

  “Ever build a bomb?” Vinnie looked up at that. Lucky continued, “If not, it’s about time you learned.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Chase soon found himself frustrated and increasingly out of his depth as the conversations in the conference room grew more and more technical. He eased himself from between Marion and EZ who were getting ready to come to blows on the best way to bypass the internal security of the NYSE and stepped out into the blissfully quiet hallway.

  “Intimidating, aren’t they?” Rose asked from her position across the hall.

  She stretched against the wall, wearing an old pair of sweatpants and a USMC sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off. “Sometimes I don’t think they need me at all—could do more with a bus full of teenaged computer hackers than an old lady like me.”

  Chase grinned at that. Rose was only in her late thirties and could pass for at least a decade younger. But he knew what she meant.

  The average IQ of the inhabitants of the room he’d left behind soared well past the genius level. Including his wife-to-be. He sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets.

  She twisted her neck to one side and then the other. “I hate this part, the waiting part.”

  “So do I.”

  “I’m going down to the gym for a run,” Rose continued. “Wanna come, blow off some steam?”

  He and Rose had a lot in common. Two grunts, give them a job to do, get them into the field and they’d get it done. “No thanks. Think I’ll go over the latest batch of satellite photos.”

  She nodded and started down the hallway. “Call me if you find anything. It’d be nice to get Lucky back here in time for the big show. I think we’ll be needing everyone for this one.”

  Chase watched her go. He had a feeling she was right. The Preacher had been planning this for years. How the hell were they going to stop him in one night?

  At least the analyst over at the NSA had better news for him. “Someone detonated an incendiary device at approximately oh’ six-twelve,” he told Chase during their video conference call. “Looks like a car bomb.” He gave Chase the exact coordinates. “Then another bird picked up this about an hour-half later. It’s the heat signature of a Bell Ranger helicopter. Sorry we couldn’t get more, but the storm—”

  “I understand,” Chase mumbled as he charted the sites of the two events on the map spread over his desk. “You got any updates on when the storm will be clearing enough for us to get another look or drop some people in there?”

  “Sure. Latest report is that the wind’s picked up from the west and is forcing the system to move faster than previously predicted. That area of West Virginia should be clear in,” he pursed his lips, “two hours. About the same time DC is going to get hit, but not as hard.”

  “Thanks.” Chase hung up and stared at the map. The car bomb—Lucky’s not so subtle signal to come and get him. The helicopter had to be the bad guys. He placed a finger on each. A small squiggle of blue separated the two. The helicopter was sited near a small Forest Service cabin. Looked like the bad guys had Lucky outflanked.

  The door opened, and KC eased her way into the office. He gave her a quick glance, accepted the cup of coffee from her, sipped, then did a double take.

  “This is Billy Price’s private stash,” he said, savoring the rich brew. KC moved behind him, her strong fingers kneading the knots in his neck. “How’d you get into Price’s stash? No one knows where he keeps it.”

  He took another sip and closed his eyes, allowing the flavor to wash over him as the warmth of KC’s hands eased the tension from him. “You know, people have been shot for stealing state secrets less valuable.”

  “Price doesn’t scare me,” KC assured him.

  Chase gave a small grunt—not much scared KC. It was one of her few failings and the chief reason she usually got herself into trouble.

  He sighed as her fingers melted away a rock-hard knot in his trapezius muscle. He set the coffee cup on the table and allowed himself to succumb to her soothing, hypnotic movements.

  When he opened his eyes again, he felt refreshed and energized, more than he had since yesterday before Rose and Price knocked on his front door. KC slid into his lap, curled up like a kitten, fitting just right, and helped herself to coffee as she examined the map in front of him.

  “When are we leaving?” she asked.

  Chase hadn’t decided until that moment that he was even going, much less “we.” He changed the subject instead of dealing with the argument he wasn’t certain he would win.

  “Sorry about the wedding,” he said, nuzzling the soft, dark curls at the back of her neck. “I’ll make it up to you.”

  “I’m not worried about any wedding. I’m worried about Lucky.”

  He wrapped his arms around her slim torso, caressing her breasts as he continued his exploration of the sensitive area behind her ear. He was rewarded by a shudder of pleasure that ran through her body, but despite his continued advances, KC refused to be dissuaded.

  “I know a Guard pilot, IRT and FLIR rated, search and rescue specialist. He’s stationed at Dulles,” she continued, barely pausing as he pivoted her to face him.

  Chase kissed her deeply; it was the only sure way to quiet her.

  She responded in kind for a long, breathtaking moment, then broke away to continue, “Rose says if you don’t have a plan to get to Lucky by five o’clock, she’s going over to the Cavanaughs’ house, tell them what’s happened.”

  “Price could do it for her.”

  KC cut him a look that implied he was smarter than that. She was right, Chase knew better than to expect Rose Prospero to delegate a task simply because it was unpleasant.

  “Price is busy coordinating a multi-jurisdiction task force. They’re going to do a simultaneous raid on the militia groups at sixteen hundred our time tomorrow.”

  “Isn’t that cutting it close? The President starts at eight.”

  “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get all these different Law Enforcement Agencies to cooperate? You military types, think someone gives an order and everyone hops to it.” She shook her head. “It’ll be a small miracle if Price can pull it off—but he’s such a smooth talker, I’m sure he will. So, that leaves us. Rose said she can spare us a few
hours. Our choice, get some rest or get Lucky. What do you say, Westin?”

  The choice of going was easy to make. It was her continued use of the plural pronoun that Chase had to accept. Finally, he lowered his head, leaned it against hers in surrender.

  “All right, you can go,” he conceded.

  KC pulled back and looked at him. “Of course I’m going,” she said as if the issue had never been in question. “But I do appreciate the way you mix business and pleasure.”

  Framing his face with her hands, she pulled him into another kiss, this one resonating through his body with the force of a heat-seeking missile striking home.

  For about the millionth time since he’d met KC, Chase wondered how he’d ever gotten so lucky. He lifted himself out of his chair, KC’s legs wrapped around his waist, and sat her on the edge of the desk, barely missing the long forgotten coffee mug. Her thighs squeezed the breath from him. It was all he could do to resist the urge to take her then and there.

  Reluctantly, Chase pulled back, giving them both breathing room, although his hands still stroked her body. “We’ve got to get going.”

  He loved the flush that crept up from her chest to her cheeks when she got excited, loved the way her eyes widened into dark pools of desire. Damn, he loved everything about this woman.

  There was nothing traditional or ordinary about their romance—hell, people had been shooting at them less than an hour before he proposed to her. And instead of an engagement ring, he’d been forced to improvise with a med-alert bracelet. A bracelet which she hadn’t removed since he’d placed it on her wrist last month, which she insisted on wearing with her wedding dress. Chase lifted her wrist now, kissing the inside of it, feeling her pulse race beneath his lips.

  “I love you,” he whispered, his eyes locking onto hers with the intensity of a laser. To his amazement, KC blushed and lowered her gaze.

  “I know,” she said, her fingers ruffling through his hair. “I love you too, Chase Westin.” She straightened, stood before him. “Let’s go get Lucky before our time runs out.”