He jabbed his finger at the floor, a silent command for me to stay. Like that was an option. I pointed at his ankle holster, then wiggled my fingers in a gimmee motion.
A silent sigh later, he freed the Kimber, and handed it to me.
FIVE
WE MADE OUR WAY ACROSS the living room, weapons tucked in tight to our bodies, spidey senses on high alert. Pierce took the lead with me spooned behind him. He inched along the wall separating the living room from the kitchen, body angled to reduce the size of his body-target. Intense calm flowed through his aura, a well-seasoned warrior hanging on the edge of the danger zone. I did my best to emulate him, but only succeeded in keeping the Kimber steady. The rest of me? Frantically sifting through a series of training scenarios, and praying I could hold my own as backup.
Pierce inhaled, grabbed a quick glance into the kitchen. “Well, fuck.”
What the hell? I nudged him with my foot. “Who?” I asked, my voice hitting a raspy high note.
He lowered his weapon, but his shoulder muscles hiked up a notch, and he blew out a pissed-off sigh. “Just fuck.”
I did not lower the Kimber. That was two fucks in less time than it took me suck in a breath, and my intuition was screaming flashing, red warnings.
“Come on in. I’m here to talk.”
My brain hit flashpoint: male, rough resonant voice, probably carried some weight, Pierce didn’t like him. But damn it all to blue, bloody hell, Pierce knew him. “Fuck is right.” I stepped around him and scanned the kitchen. The man sat at the center island, buzzed white hair, ugly Hawaiian shirt, big hands, skewed cleft in his chin, eyes the same shade of mud brown as the coffee in front of him. No visible weapon. I lowered the Kimber. “Who the hell are you?”
Pierce and the unknown dude answered simultaneously. Like they’d been practicing for months. “Fred.”
Adrenaline surged through me, obliterating every spec of the training Annie, Whitney, and Adam had worked so hard to perfect. “Fred.” The whisper caught in my throat. “Fred.” A shout. Better. Much better. Not taking my focus away from the living embodiment of the person who starred in my most recent nightmares, I aimed my anger at the man I loved because he was the nearest target. And in deep shit. “And exactly how do you know Fred?”
Fred, bless his heart, grinned. “Tell her Tap.”
My glare lasered on Pierce. “Tap?” Yeah, it was another whisper, but this one held enough pissed-off female to have him back-step.
Fred groaned. I glanced at him, catching the you-are-in-deep-shit grin he aimed at Pierce.
My man tucked his gun in his waistband, and then motioned for me to hand him the Kimber. I handed it over, butt first, without comment. Pierce knew I wouldn’t shoot him, but there was no doubt he wanted me unarmed, and it would have been damn stupid to draw my line in the sand over a weapon I didn’t plan to fire. Adrenaline and raging anger aside, I tried not to be stupid. Whitney and Annie had spent a lot of hours breaking me of acting without thought—at least when there were lethal weapons involved.
Knowing I was too angry to confront Pierce and come out the winner, I deliberately paced off the distance to Fred, using the time to catalog subtleties in his demeanor. Age-spotted hands loose around the coffee mug, relaxed facial muscles, cold, brown eyes pinning me with an alert gaze. Wizened. He had to be eighty, or so. I hadn’t spotted a weapon earlier—but I couldn’t see under the center island without bending, and I wanted to keep his face in sight. Tamping down my anger, I concentrated on the information I needed to know. “Why are you in my house? And how did you get through the maze?” I’d deal with the Tap issue later, even though questions were threatening to eat a hole in my curiosity.
Fred held my gaze, sniffed, then took a long swallow of coffee.
It gave Pierce time to move in and take a position at the end of the island, effectively between Fred and me.
No surprise there, but this was my house, my turf, and my questions. “I’d love to threaten you, Fred. To be able to turn the dogs loose if you don’t speak up, but we don’t have K9s. Yet. On the other hand…” I drug out the words. “Pierce isn’t known for his sweet, forgiving nature. He’s younger, stronger, and better trained than anyone I’ve had the pleasure to fight. And he loves me. It’s a good guess he wants the answers as much as I do. Just saying.”
Fred reared back, his laughter filling the room. “Oh, yes, Ms. Gray. I’m familiar with Tap’s training.” He took another swallow of coffee. “And yours.”
A hot slice of fear cut right through my gut. I ignored it. “And?”
“I make a mean pot of coffee. Pour yourself a cup and we’ll talk.”
Every hair on my body prickled to attention. “Surely you know I wouldn’t consume anything you touched.”
This time, Fred’s smile was genuine. “You’re a valuable commodity Ms. Gray, and I’ve been watching you, protecting you all your life. The Unites States government—”
“Shut the fuck up, Fred. Take your coffee and get out.” Pierce was bordering on stupid angry. I’d never seen his face so red, his temper so raw, and I wanted it fixed. Now.
Fred must have picked up on something, because he stood, raised his mug to us. “I’ll give you fifteen minutes.” He was out the door faster than Road Runner. No eighty-year-old should be able to move that fast, and now I had two attitude-heavy octogenarians in my life. Fred and Aukele.
I spun to face Pierce. “Talk.”
He didn’t so much as blink. “Early on I worked for Fred. Some deep cover. Nothing related to Loyria or James Gray.”
My brain sorted information so fast I got dizzy. “You knew I was being watched when you told me about my security clearance.”
“Suspected. No proof.” His words sounded brittle.
“Did Fred know Fion Connor and Eamon Grady murdered my parents?”
“Unlikely. He would’ve taken them out before we did if he’d known.”
I narrowed my gaze, zeroing in on the emotion behind Pierce’s eyes. “So their deaths caught his attention, he looked into it, and traced them to Loyria, and then to me. To us.”
He nodded again. “That’s how I read it.”
“What does he want with me?” I grabbed the kitchen island, every muscle tight waiting for Pierce’s answer.
“Best guess. He wants you to recreate the formula.” Some of the crimson had drained from Tynan’s face.
I took a step toward him. “Not gonna happen. And Mi—”
Pierce’s hand shot out, covered my mouth. He shook his head, flicking his finger first toward his ear and then the kitchen door. I nodded, continuing my sentence sotto voce. “Much as he gives me the creeps, I want answers from him. Should I play along?”
Pierce winked at me, silent praise that I’d played the role well. “No. I’ve never seen anyone better at reading tells, so stick with the truth.”
I listened to Tynan while I made my way to the Cuisinart coffee maker and started to brew a fresh pot. I hadn’t been bluffing about not wanting to consume anything Fred had touched, and ruthlessly washed out the pot and plastic filter cone. “Okay. Want to invite him back…” Pierce was running his hands under the edge of the center island, and the action derailed my thought.
“Yeah. I’ll get him.” Pierce looked up, mouthed “bug,” then strolled out the kitchen door.
I wasn’t surprised exactly, but having my mother’s handler bug my newly inherited kitchen was just…wrong. It sparked my barely-under-control anger, but I didn’t have a clue who or what to be angry with. My parents for starting this whole mess? Tynan for not cluing me into his past with Fred? Yep, that was a good one, but it would have to wait until we didn’t have an audience. Or maybe I should simply lay into Fred for trespassing and being an arrogant bastard. Except he was old, and I’d been raised to respect my elders. But damn it all, Pierce was going to be installing a top-notch security system for our house.
The men entered the kitchen just as I pressed the brew button. They leaked testoste
rone, and wore identical frowns. And that set me off. “Look, guys. I don’t have the time or inclination to deal with male posturing, so cut it. Fred, I want answers. Let’s start with how you got through the maze.” I’d used my “mom” voice, and damn if it didn’t work.
“Folks in the intelligence business sometimes have specialties.” He made his way to the sink and rinsed out his coffee mug. “Mine’s tracking.”
Mom voice fail. My temper sizzled. “No, your specialty is lying. No one can track through one of my grandfather’s mazes. No. One.”
He shrugged. “Inside information.”
Something cold churned in my gut. “From?”
Pierce had shifted his stance, moving into a posture I’d noticed a lot, so of course I’d asked him about it. He held his hands in front of his body like they were resting on a rifle. He didn’t talk about the when, where, and how he developed the habit, and I was smarter than to ask. Still, there was no question the posture signaled “combat ready” to his brain.
Much as I wanted to punch Fred out, I didn’t want the two of them to go at it and destroy the kitchen, especially since fighting would take time, and I wanted answers now. I casually strolled next to Pierce and ran my hand along his arm—but kept my fingertips to myself. Images of whatever history he shared with Fred could well be irritating enough to fry my brain, and I needed to be calm, cool, and deadly. If Fred left with bruises, by the goddess they were going to have my signature on them, no matter if he’d been around longer than the The Alamo. I took two steps toward him. “Who?”
“Couple of my people.” He ran his thumb along the side of his index finger.
Did he do that when he lied? Two more steps. I shot a glance at Pierce. His eyebrow twitched—a tell I was beginning to recognize. My man had figured something out and it wasn’t sitting well with him.
My brain kicked into slow motion. I practiced the move in my mind—two running steps and a leap—and then executed it, all within a fraction of a second. I pulled up at last second. It would be tough to explain broken bones, or worse, a heart attack. And I wasn’t into killing the old man…by accident.
Fred was on the floor, shattered pieces from the coffee mug scattered over the ceramic tiles. Oh, yeah. I liked this. Well, except for the shaft of pain running up my leg. My landing hadn’t been especially graceful.
Pierce grinned. “Nice, Belisama. Whitney?”
“Right the first time. We’ve been practicing all week.” I stood over Fred, but out of reach. “You are in better shape than an octogenarian should be. And weren’t you about to tell us who your source is.”
Fred rolled onto his side. “Damn, woman.” He eased his upper body up, balanced on his forearm. “You interested in coming to work for me?”
I sat down at the island, crossed my legs all prim and proper, and then forced sugar into my voice. “Tell me more.”
Waves of anger rolled off Pierce, and punched me in the back. I didn’t dare turn and look at him.
Fred’s cold, brown glare had been replaced with sparkling interest as he carefully made his way to standing. “I work with the military. Black ops. All undercover. You’re definitely Xola’s daughter. She tried to kill me the first time we met.” He shrugged. “Only difference, she was a trained CIA officer and you’re home grown. We’d need to do some extensive work on you, get you up to speed.”
What a jerk, still, pride swelled under my breastbone. “Go, Mom.”
Fred circled his neck, rubbed it. “Okay. You got me. Let’s stop with the games, Ms. Gray, and keep it simple. Just tell me what you know about Xola’s formula.”
The silence spun from seconds to minutes.
“I have the authority to arrest you, and I have the freedom to turn your nice, easy life into hell. Easy way or hard. Your choice.”
Pierce stepped between us. Fred backed up a step. “Don’t Tap this.”
Fred had clearly used Tap as a capitalized verb, which meant Pierce’s nickname had something to do with tapping into things. Places, situations, people. My curiosity tossed around a few ideas, but came up empty.
The tension was making it difficult to breathe. “I don’t know anything about my mother’s formula. It wasn’t the sort of information she shared with anyone, and certainly not with her child. She didn’t leave any notes or samples. And even if she had left some clues lying around, they would have been destroyed when their house burned to the ground.”
Thank the goddesses he’d only asked me about my mother and not Fion Connor or Eamon Grady. I hadn’t come close to sorting through the files I’d confiscated during my revenge trip to England and Ireland. I counted my breaths to help keep my face expressionless.
Fred slammed his fist onto the center island. Good thing it wasn’t a granite countertop. “You’re lying.”
Pierce stiffened, then relaxed into super alert mode. I got the distinct impression Fred’s life was blowing in the wind.
“Don’t, Pierce. It doesn’t matter what he thinks, and he’s not worth it. We both know my mom didn’t leave any clues because our search has been thorough, and Fred is clearly not going to answer any of my questions.”
Pierce held his focus on Fred, but gave me a single, curt nod.
I stood and sidled around him, diffusing the tension as best I could. “How about we lead you out of the maze, Fred?”
He rubbed the flat side of his fist. “Yeah. We’re done for now.”
As much as I wanted to tether his naked body spread-eagle on the ground so the bugs could nibble on him, I settled for leading him around the maze in the most convoluted way possible. If I hadn’t been following Aukele’s energy, I’d have been hopelessly lost, so there wasn’t much chance Fred could find his way back without help. That knowledge would have been a lot more comforting if he hadn’t made his way into my new home in the first place. We exited the maze and were part way down the road before I asked. “Who led you here, Fred?”
He smiled, snide. “Your caretakers Ms. Gray.”
SIX
CARETAKERS? I DIDN’T HAVE ANYONE watching over me except Pierce and Annie, and Adam, and maybe Cait Connor, my newly found cousin. “Who’s he talking about?”
The wind carried the scent of plumeria. It should have been comforting, but a chill raised the hair on my arms. “Surely Fred didn’t mean Millie and Harlan.”
Pierce wore a shuttered look that made me want to spar with him, but since he always pulled his punches, it left me at a disadvantage. I’d learned the hard way it’s tough to squash someone when they’re being nice to you, and worse, careful with you. I settled for glaring at him. “Well? What do you think?”
“We need to find them.” Rough voice, and he didn’t look at me.
Another chill swept through me. “That’s a given. I wish you’d been able to tell me, unequivocally, that it wasn’t them.”
Pierce dropped his arm over my shoulder. “Me, too. You have any idea how the property is laid out?”
I flipped through my memory of the aerial pictures Annie had included in the packet she gave me. “Not so much. Between the trees and the mountains, most of the land is difficult to see. Annie did her best with the photos she found on the Internet, but they only provided a general impression. I’m guessing our best bet is to follow my fingers.”
His grunt wasn’t encouraging.
I elbowed him, more a tickle than a nudge. “What? Not trusting my ESP?”
His answering smile was one of my favorites, all loving and playful. “Lot’s of land versus tiny fingers, Hot Shot.”
Pierce made an excellent point, but I had one other thing going for me—my parents’ genes, and Loyria’s had been altered with the formula. It was a long shot, more hope than reality, but they’d lived here. I’d lived here, and maybe those memories would surface while Pierce and I walked the land. I faced the maze entrance, held my hands up and wiggled my fingers. “I’m a firm believer in facts and reality, but in this case, I think the woo-woo factor is in our favor. Helpful st
uff is buried somewhere in my brain. All we need to do is uncover it.
I sighed. “But since my early memories are on hiatus…” I let the thought trail off because I honestly had no idea how to use my fingers and intuition to uncover acres of potential secrets. Pierce labeled it right when he called me Hot Shot. This time.
I breathed into my Huna-trained senses, listened to my intuition, and entered the maze. “I’m going to try holding an image of Millie and Harlan in my mind, see if that helps to clarify the path we need to follow.”
It made sense that Pierce didn’t respond. His mind was acclimated to maps and grids. And his altered sense of vision. “I’m counting on you to see the things normal humans can’t, like a well-camouflaged cottage.”
“On it.” He touched my elbow. Such a small thing, but his reassuring support flowed through me. The way we communicated with a simple touch was like magic, and I cherished those moments. They warmed my heart, my insides lit up, and they cemented my love for Tynan Pierce in a way I’d never experienced before.
The glow of new love had skewed my normal level of curiosity, but questions about his relationship with Fred tugged at the back of my mind. I kept them there, banked and ready to surface at the right time, but finding Millie and Harlan was our top priority, and I couldn’t afford to split my attention. They had answers to some critical questions.
Most of the Manoa property was covered in dense vegetation, so I stuck to the maze. When I’d followed it to the house, the path had been highlighted in easy-to-follow, neon-colored, Kahuna Aukele energy. Grandfather had made it easy for me, probably because the land was mine, and he’d decided it was time for me to take ownership. But this was different. It became obvious he didn’t want me, or anyone else, to find Millie and Harlan. Every time I stumbled on a trace of their energy, it disappeared at the next twist or turn in the maze, and I had to assume Aukele had programmed it that way. I’d even resorted to crawling on my hands and knees so I’d be closer to the earth, to the faintest trace of their energetic scent. After several misdirected attempts, I stood, frustrated. “Dead ends. Do you have any outside-the-box ideas about how to approach this?”
a Touch of Intrigue Page 5
