A Necessary Deception

by Lucy Farago

  Oblivious to what she’d just done to him, she nodded and went to fetch him socks. He swiped his hand across his mouth and thought about the most complicated software he’d written. It involved facial recognition from surveillance cameras. Unlike what the police already used in some countries, his not only identified the person but let you know when and where else the person had been spotted. It had taken him nearly two years to complete. Still, the only face he could see was Taylor’s. He scrubbed a hand over his forehead. What the hell was wrong with him? She was just a woman.

  “Here.” She handed him the socks. “Do you need help putting them on?”

  “I think I can manage,” he said and drew the blanket over his hips. “Go do what you need to do.”

  “Okay, but no going into those tunnels without me,” she warned. “And go pee before that woody cuts off valuable circulation.” She turned on her heel and returned to her bedroom.

  He should be embarrassed. So how come he wasn’t? He finished dressing and limped to the bathroom, grinning like some schoolkid. His knee was stiff, but the pain was manageable. He brushed his teeth and quickly washed his hair and face in the sink. Even to himself, he smelled better.

  He hobbled out and met Taylor in the kitchen. “You’re fast.”

  She’d twisted her long hair into a messy bun and gone from cute to sexy as hell.

  “I’ll take a shower later. You want to head into the tunnels now or after brunch?”

  Was she concerned? Or worried? “Are you afraid I’ll leave without telling you again?”

  She pulled the French press off the stove. “No, I’m sure you had your reasons for sneaking out…and getting yourself nearly blown up.” She gave a wide grin. “But I think you realize we have to do this together,” she said, with a pointed stare. “Right?”

  “Right.” They were stuck with each other. “But I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to worry you. I needed to see if I could get to that panic button. It was nothing personal.”

  “I can’t believe you just went there.” She grabbed two mugs from the cupboard and snapped, “coffee?”

  “Thanks, and went where?” He sat and straightened his leg as far as he could manage. He didn’t want to make excuses for last night. Given the results, he’d made the right decision by not telling her. She’d have insisted on going. What he wanted to talk about was her involvement with Ryan, but how did he approach the subject without coming off as jealous?

  “I did it for your own good? That’s stupid. I’m a grown a woman,” she said, far more defensively then he’d expected.

  “I know that.”

  “Do you? Then why sneak out in the middle of the night? To nearly get yourself killed, I might add. How would that have helped me? I wouldn’t have known what the hell happened to you. We’re in Alaska. You could’ve frozen to death before you reached the bunker. If you reached the bunker.” She tossed a scowl his way and plunged another cup of coffee, imagining it was his head, he’d bet.

  In his defense, he was used to doing things on his own. Even with the team, he went solo and was allowed do his job. You didn’t just type in a search word and Google it. And he didn’t play nice with others. But he could try. Soon his team would arrive. All they had to do was wait it out. “I’m sorry. You’re right. It won’t happen again.”

  “Good.” She handed him the cup she’d prepared. “Drink and then we can check out the snow.”

  “You don’t have to come with me.” He appreciated her concern. It was nice and at the same time disconcerting.

  “Then I can’t show you what I found.” She took a sip from her own cup.

  “A dead mouse?”

  “OMG.” She touched her fingertips to her chest with a pout. “You ruined the surprise. Now what am I going to serve for breakfast?”

  “Nice one.” He really, really appreciated a woman with a sense of humor. Using the table for support, he pushed himself up. “Let’s go, then.” He hadn’t been here in a few years and was curious to see what she thought she’d discovered.

  “Do you need help?”

  He didn’t, but what the hell. “Sure.”

  She slipped an arm around his waist and allowed him to lean on her as they walked. He was going to like letting her help him. Yes, indeed.

  * * * *

  “Shit.” This wasn’t good.

  “What do you see?” Taylor asked, shining the lantern into the passage from the other end.

  Snow…lots…and lots of snow. “I’m going to have to go outside to get the full picture.” It was one thing to hope it had snowed enough to cover their tracks, another to be snowed it.

  “How are you going to do that with your leg? Get back here. I’ll go.”

  “You sure you want to crawl through this pipe again?” he asked, loud enough for his voice to echo and remind her how tight the space was.

  “I’ve done it enough times it doesn’t bother me.”

  His instinct was to argue. While this wasn’t rocket science, she had to make sure she wasn’t seen, and after last night, he wasn’t sure that wouldn’t happen. “You have to change first.” He half-crawled, half-dragged himself back. “We have white camo snow gear, but only go as far as you need to. The trees are dense and good cover, but don’t wander past the tree line. This isn’t San Diego, and it feels like the temperature dropped…drastically. We’ll need to put a barometer in the pipe and check it every couple of hours.”

  “How bad is it?”

  “I can’t be certain. Maybe the wind picked up and blew the snow under the trees.”

  “Under the trees?” she said. “But doesn’t snow drift under trees anyway?”

  “Do you have any experience with snow? Do you ski?”

  She held up her hands and did a little twirl for him. “Rich spoiled heiress. Of course I ski.”

  She lent him her shoulder and he managed to drop down without having to use his bad leg. “Well, you know when they have to use snow machines?”

  “What part didn’t you understand? Rich, spoiled, or heiress? If a hill didn’t have snow—”

  “You flew to one that did,” he finished for her. What a life.

  “Not always,” she pointed out. “Sometimes I stayed in the chalet and partied. I rarely traveled without an entourage.”

  He shook his head. Growing up, he barely had friends.

  “Don’t judge,” she said. “I’m not that person anymore.”

  Yes, and he had yet to learn why. What kind of epiphany had she had to change such a privileged lifestyle? “I’m not judging. I’m just curious to know what it was like.”

  “Empty. So, camo gear?”

  She didn’t want to talk about it. That served to make him more curious. “With the rest of the supplies.”

  “Okay, stay here. I don’t need an escort. What about the barometer?”

  “I’ll go with you. It might not be that easy to find. There could be one in the control room. I’ll have to check.”

  “Or…” she said with an odd, cat-who-ate-the-canary expression. “It could be in the room with all the explosives.”

  Chapter 13

  The expression on the man’s face was priceless. The part of her that had been spoiled, that got whatever she wanted, had come in handy for once. She wasn’t used to being shut out or said no to. When it happened, it made her work harder, and perhaps brought out her competitive side. That secret room had admittedly been niggling at her. Why was it locked? Why couldn’t she see what was inside? She might not be a tech expert, or the brightest shade of lipstick on the palette, but she was good with puzzles…and locks. She’d vowed never to be in a room she couldn’t get out of…or, in this case, get into.

  “How did you get past the combination padlock?”

  “It’s a talent. After you dropped off to sleep I was a little restless. All the adrenali
ne, I guess. I was actually on my way to check out that underground spring. Then I passed the mystery door, and, well, it called to me. Then I remembered who’s in charge around here. One, nine, six, two. Nineteen sixty-two. The year Dr. No was released.”

  “How—?”

  “The combo to the gun cabinet. Zero, zero, seven, one. Sean Connery, the one-and-only, true Bond. According to Ryan anyway. Does he still have that Aston Martin?” Ryan was a huge Bond fan.

  “Nineteen sixty-four DB5. Yup. Won’t let anyone drive it either.”

  “Too bad. It’s a neat ride.”

  “He took you for a ride?” He seemed surprised and maybe a tad jealous.

  If he was envious of her now, she couldn’t wait to see his next reaction. “I took him for a ride.” It had, after all, been her car. She was about to play it up, but his stiff smile stopped her. He was upset. What was the big deal? It was just a car. Was it a guy thing? “Ryan tends to be possessive sometimes,” she tried to explain, but that seemed to make it worse.

  “Yes, yes, he does.”

  “Don’t take it personally,” she said, trying to smooth things over. “My father bought a horse from him once, then tried to sell it. I’ve never seen Ryan so mad. He’d assumed the mare was going to someone who’d appreciate her. The only thing my father appreciates is money. I tried to warn him….”

  “Possessive, yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Exactly how…I mean, how long…? Why did the two of you…?” He shook his head. “Forget it. This is none of my business. Let’s go get the gear.” He picked up the lantern from the floor and started down the dark tunnel.

  Taylor followed. She’d never seen Monty flustered. True, they hadn’t known each other long, but he’d always been straightforward with her—when he wasn’t teasing her. Did her relationship with Ryan bother him? Was it somehow creepy for Monty? She tried to put herself in his shoes and found she couldn’t. She’d never had a boss her friends could date. She’d never had a boss.

  Without warning, he stopped in front of the explosives room. “Look, am I going to have a problem with my boss?”

  “Meaning…?”

  “Like you said, Ryan is possessive. If he still has a thing for you—”

  “Considering the number of women I’ve seen him photographed with, I’d say whatever feelings he had for me are long gone. Our breakup wasn’t exactly on good terms.” And that was putting it mildly. Given what Monty had told her about his mom, she really didn’t want to discuss her own very big screwups. “Can I tell you we both made mistakes and leave it at that?”

  He nodded, but she doubted he was satisfied with her answer.

  She pointed to the door. “Do you want to go in here first? There’s all kinds of mechanical stuff. Maybe the barometer is in here.”

  “What do you mean by mechanical? Anything in there should be boxed or crated.”

  “Not everything.”

  “Yes, everything. And for good reason.” He limped around her and unlocked the door. Monty shone his light inside.

  The room wasn’t as large as the others; therefore it was easy to see everything inside. Taylor hadn’t believed her eyes when she’d looked inside the straw-filled wooden crates and seen the sticks of dynamite. It was something straight out of the movies, and she’d been too afraid to touch anything else.

  “Over there.” She pointed to the far right. She hadn’t paid much attention to it. The explosives had kind of wigged her out. But it appeared to be some kind of engine.

  “No way.” Monty quickly limped to examine it. He laughed. “Yes.” He fist-pumped the air. “Taylor, it’s on wheels and fairly heavy, but do you think you can help me roll it back to the control room? I’m going to need more light to fix it.”

  Feeling safer with Monty around, she drew up beside him. “What is it?”

  “A generator. Oh, Taylor, I could kiss you,” he said, with so much enthusiasm, she wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t.

  He didn’t kiss her. Shame. His excitement was infectious.

  “A couple of years back, the wiring crapped out and needed to be replaced. None of us had time to fiddle with it, so it was put away for repair at a later date. I guess everyone forgot about it. Including my friends,” he said, mighty happy about it.

  “We’ll have power?”

  “More. We’ll have communication.”

  “We could send a message for help?” Now she understood why he was so excited.

  “Fingers crossed. I’m not a mechanic. I can build computers and do repairs on my bike, but this is different.”

  “Aw.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “Did you have to put your chain back on?” The image of Monty with glasses on a bike wasn’t anywhere near as hot as this Monty, with a helmet and leathers.

  “I’ll take you for a ride…” He drew in real close. “But I’m not sure you can handle the power between your legs.”

  “Ha. Good one.”

  He gave her a quick peck on the lips. “Help now, flirt later.” He grabbed the right side of the handle. “Take the left and let’s go.”

  They lugged it back, all the while the lantern swaying heavily and casting spooky shadows in the tunnel. Once in the control room, Monty went to work.

  The man hadn’t given himself enough credit. It took him less than an hour to have it running.

  “First things first. Snow can interfere with the receiver. Can you find the camo by yourself? I want to hook up a computer.”

  His excitement was palpable, and it made her smile…and a little sad. “Sure.” Then she left him to do his thing while she suited up. Was it the opportunity to make contact with the outside world that had him all geared up? Or was he like a junkie, getting his fix? Just how attached was he to his computers?

  She returned a short time later dressed from head to toe in a snowsuit right out of a James Bond movie. Ryan could be such a geek sometimes. Monty repeated the instructions and out she went. She told herself not to think about the tight space, but having memorized the paces it took, she closed her eyes and counted all the way to the end. She understood exactly what Monty had meant the moment she opened the outside hatch. Snow. Lots and lots of snow. Some fluffy stuff had managed to drift under the trees, but the healthy foliage had prevented just enough snowfall for her to maneuver her way through it. A few feet from the tree line, she had to dig her way out. Her heart stopped. She shielded her face from the blowing tempest and quickly realized it would do no good. Having struck imitating a gopher on Groundhog Day off her bucket list, she returned to the rabbit hole, face frozen from its brief encounter with winter in Alaska.

  She was surprised to find Monty waiting for her. “Are you finished MacGyvering?”

  “What do you know about MacGyver? Were you even born then?” he said, brushing the snow off her shoulders.

  “They’ve redone the series, but I caught the old reruns and I liked Richard Dean Anderson. I bought the entire series on DVD.” She’d watch episodes of the show instead of the in-flight movies her father’s jet provided. “He was cool.” And she’d been a teenager with far too much time on her hands. Jetting around the world had been fun, but it wasn’t until later that she’d realized just how lonely it had been. Or how much she loathed her father.

  “You had a crush on Anderson? A little old for you, isn’t he?”

  “I have daddy issues,” she said, only half-joking. “But, seriously, Rick is older than my father.”

  “Why does that sound like you know him?”

  “He’s into conservation. I donated. We met at a charity event.”

  “Nice life,” he commented with barely a hint of sarcasm.

  Her life had been nice…when she’d been oblivious. She shrugged, not wanting to get into it. “It had its moments.” Not all of it bad. “So, can we chat with the outside world?”

  “No, sorry. Something
is blocking reception to the satellite.”

  “Something like snow? I had to dig a hole big enough to pop my head through. Monty, I couldn’t see in front of my face. Is this normal weather for this time of year?”

  “This part of Alaska? Not normal; not impossible either. But that explains the reception.”

  “Don’t you need a dish for satellite?” She pulled off her hat and gloves and unzipped her suit, scattering snow onto the floor.

  “It’s on top of the mountain we’re under, in one of the trees.” He helped her shrug the snowsuit off her shoulders. “Your face is super red,” he said, cupping her cheeks.

  “Your hands aren’t any warmer.”

  “Sorry.” He snatched his hands away. “Let’s get warm.”

  And damn, didn’t her mind go straight to the gutter.

  “I can explain how the satellite works if you want.”

  His limp seemed more pronounced, so she slipped her arm around his waist. “Hmmm. Sounds like fun, but did you forget the part where I told you I hire people to do that kind of stuff for me?”

  “Are you really that computer stupid? How do you survive?”

  How did he manage to insult her without sounding insulting? “On the kindness of strangers,” she said, in lame impersonation of Blanche DuBois as they passed through the control room, now littered with tools and wires.

  “Except who needs strangers when you have money?” He pulled away and mocked her with the sweep of his arm. “Madame, after you. I shall fetch you a cup of tea.”

  “Keep it up, hopalong, and I may amputate that leg when you’re sleeping.”

  He cringed. “Do we add nasty to spoiled princess?”

  “More like bitchy.” Inside, she kicked off her boots and removed the rest of the snowsuit, which had been surprisingly warm. Except for her face, she’d been toasty. “I used to be a royal bitch.” She liked to think she’d changed.

  “I doubt it.”

  Monty headed for the kitchen, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Where are you going?”