The Maze (ATCOM)

by Jennifer Lowery

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean why?”

  “Why,” Noah asked, his voice edged with steel, “would you want to face Santiago alone?”

  The softly spoken question caught her so completely off guard she reared back. He knew what kind of man Santiago was. He would kill Brendan without blinking an eye if she didn’t follow his instructions. Noah’s presence only jeopardized her brother’s life.

  “How can you ask me that?” she asked. “With everything that has happened, how can you not know?”

  Noah’s expression hardened. “All I know is that we’re in this together so you may as well deal with it. If we don’t work as one, none of us are going to get out alive.”

  She knew he was right, but couldn’t admit it. Wounds had been reopened when he showed up at her door, and they were still raw. She was barely keeping her fears at bay and being angry at Noah was an effective Band-Aid. But it wouldn’t last. The wounds had to heal and she had no idea how to do that. It was easier to stay angry and keep them at a distance. She didn’t want to remember how blue his eyes were or how comforting his presence was. There had been times in the field when she’d relied on him to get her through, but now she couldn’t do that.

  “Why you?” she whispered, surprising both of them. “Of all the agents, why you?”

  Noah met her gaze directly. “Your brother trusts me.”

  Attie flinched. What had she expected? A confession? Noah was a professional. He never let emotion get in the way of a job. This wasn’t the time or place to settle the past between them.

  “Trust,” she scoffed. Such a lethal word that cut in both directions. “Will my brother’s ‘trust’ get him killed like it did Seth?”

  “That’s not fair,” he said quietly.

  She was too angry to care. “You cost me my mission and now Carlos has another shot at not only me, but my brother too.”

  He winced as if she’d struck him. The reaction surprised her, but didn’t lessen her anger.

  “I did what I thought was best for the safety of my agents,” Noah said softly, revealing none of his feelings.

  “Well, you failed miserably in that, didn’t you?” She pushed past him, needing to put distance between them. Noah cursed behind her, but she kept on going. Her insides churned. Seth was dead. Mission failed. She lost a fellow agent, and the bad guy got away.

  She had felt nothing but out of control since her return from South America and she didn’t know how to get her life back. Brendan had been there to bring her back from the edge when she needed him most. If she screwed this up, she was going to lose him.

  The trees parted. Attie stopped short to stare up the face of a steep, rocky cliff.

  Noah came up behind her and did the same. “We’re going to have to climb.” He shrugged out of his pack.

  She frowned down at him where he crouched by her legs. “What are you doing?”

  “Lightening your load. Give me anything that has weight out of your pack.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  He looked up at her. “I can climb with more weight.”

  She glared at him. “I’ll carry my own pack. I don’t need your help.”

  He squeezed the bridge of his nose. “This is going to be a steep climb. You need to concentrate on keeping your footing instead of the weight on your back.”

  “I carried one of my teammates out of ‘enemy territory’ in training, remember? I passed with flying colors by your standards. My pack is much lighter than St. Klare was.”

  “This isn’t the academy.”

  “I can carry you up this damn mountain.”

  Scanning the slope in front of him Noah said tightly, “I’ll go up first. Get your gear.”

  * * * *

  Attie watched Noah leap onto the rocky slope, get a foothold, and inch his way upward. He moved with ease and agility up the face of the cliff. Of course, he made it look easy, but she knew better. This would be no simple task. Taking a deep breath, she reached up and latched onto the rock.

  Steadily they climbed, with Attie following the path Noah chose. Occasionally a pebble would come loose and bounce off her head.

  Darkness closed in around them. Attie could no longer feel her fingers. Fitting them into tiny grooves became increasingly difficult. She could see the top and paused a moment on her perch as Noah swung over the edge.

  Legs tight from exertion, her pack feeling fifty pounds heavier than when she’d started, arms aching from strain, Attie secured a foothold and pushed upward.

  She tucked her numb fingers into a small groove above her head, but misjudged its depth and her fingers slipped. With a cry she teetered on the edge, fighting to keep her balance, but her pack proved to be more dangerous than she’d thought. Its weight tilted her backward.

  An iron grip caught her wrist.

  She looked up to see Noah lying above her, holding her by one arm. His expression was calm, his gaze steady.

  “Get a foothold, Attie,” he instructed.

  She twisted slightly and saw his jaw clench. As easily as possible, she shoved her toe in a crevice.

  “Got one.”

  “On the count of three, push.”

  “Okay.”

  Noah counted to three, and she pushed at the same time he pulled. Their combined effort landed her a foot over the ledge, flat on her stomach, with her legs hanging over.

  Breathing deep and fast, she rolled into a sitting position and scooted away from the edge, drawing her knees up and locking her arms around them to stop her trembling.

  He crouched beside her. “You okay?”

  Without looking at him she shook her head. She’d almost fallen to her death and ruined everything. She was rusty, her skills not as honed as they’d been six months ago.

  He squeezed her shoulder. “There’s a clearing in the trees behind you we can set up camp in. Take your time.”

  He didn’t wait for her response before heading in that direction. Attie squeezed her eyes shut and took a couple calming breaths. It was some time before she was able to move closer to the fire Noah had built. Even then her legs shook and she couldn’t seem to slow her heart rate.

  Sitting on the ground with her knees drawn up and her hands stretched toward the warmth of the fire, she tried to stop them from shaking. She had her back to Noah, staring into the flames, thinking of Brendan to distract herself from her near fatal mistake and the fact that she now owed Noah her life. Irony was a brutal thing.

  Brendan had always been larger than life to her. He’d been more of a risk taker, taking up sky diving, rock climbing and flying. He loved to take her up in his Cessna and scare the hell out of her by cutting the engine midair and free falling until she couldn’t remain quiet anymore. When she gave in and screamed he’d start the engine and pull them up every time. She swore she wouldn’t go again, but found herself in the air with him the very next day.

  Her brother had been there for her after she returned from South America, taking a leave of absence to help her through her recovery. He knew what she needed when the nightmares got too much and would spar with her to help her release the pent up energy. He always had a wisecrack to get her moving when her body ached from the torment of healing.

  He tag-teamed with Uncle Jed to help her get through the tough times and she loved them both for it. But the things she suffered couldn’t be helped. The nightmares were not going away.

  Closing her eyes, she wished Brendan was sitting next to her and they were in Uncle Jed’s kitchen bellyaching over his five-alarm chili that brought tears to their eyes and made their noses run from all the spices.

  One way or another she would get him back. She would see Brendan again, his eyes sparkling with mischief, teasing her about the restrictions of being a girl to get her ire up and push her to be the best she could be. She had, by becoming the first woman to become an agent for ATCOM. Now she would use that training to help free him from a madman.

  Fear of losing her brother clawed
at her heart, causing a flood of anger to wash through her, along with a familiar restlessness.

  Noah dropped down beside her and stared into the fire with her. “Should I take off my coat and put on my boxing gloves?”

  “Have them with you?” she muttered, picking up a stick and throwing it into the fire.

  “Is that what you want, Attie?” he asked softly.

  Physical exercise was the only way she knew to alleviate the emotions Carlos evoked in her. Even now he had power over her and it was destroying her. She knew it, but couldn’t stop it. She tried to push the demons away, but they were always stronger than her. Pounding them out on a punching bag worked much better.

  Brendan was usually there for her and that only made her more upset. Clenching her fists at her sides and said, “Yes.”

  “I have a better idea,” he suggested. “How about talking about it.”

  “I’d rather you put on your gloves.”

  “Your first response to things you’re unsure of is anger. Sometimes, the things that scare us don’t respond to anger.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Freud. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He was silent for a moment. Then he said, “I know you’re running so fast you’ve stopped living.”

  She shot to her feet, fists clenched at her sides. “You know nothing, Kincaid.”

  “You can’t go on like this forever. Eventually your walls are going to fall and you’re going to need someone to be there when they do. I’m going to be there.”

  Shaking with anger, she said, “It’ll be a cold day in Hell.”

  * * * *

  They traveled at a good steady pace all the next day, searching for any clues that might hint toward Brendan’s having been there, but found none. Frustrating, but she expected nothing less from Santiago. His paranoia kept him sharp as a tack. If he wanted her brother hidden, then he would be. Still, she didn’t give up searching for something—anything—that would give her a jump on him.

  A sudden wind picked up, whipping a strand of hair free from her ponytail. A chill cut straight through her. They stood on a rocky cliff overlooking a canyon. The sun had gone under hours ago, leaving only the gray, dreary sky of early nightfall. Rock sat all around them except for the cluster of tall pines at their back.

  Noah was looking at the sky, eyes narrowed. “See those clouds?” He pointed at a cluster of dark, billowing swirls.

  Attie followed his gaze and nodded.

  “Cumulus clouds building vertically like that mean a storm is approaching. We have to take cover.”

  “Temp’s been dropping steadily.”

  “Another warning. Come on.”

  As they turned and sprinted toward the pines, a strong wind blew past, followed by a crack of thunder. Their sprint turned into a run as it began to rain. She double-timed it in order to keep up with Noah’s long, powerful strides. The added weight of her pack made it difficult to keep up. The wind forced her back.

  Two paces ahead, Noah veered right. Frowning, Attie followed. The rain was coming down hard now, making it difficult to see.

  Squinting, she searched for Noah’s dark jacket and picked up her pace. He materialized out of the mist, grabbed her hand, and propelled her along with him at an exhausting pace. She felt the strain of the past two days. Her body ached from exertion and the demand that had been placed on it. Her muscles protested the movement as she pushed to keep up.

  The wind whipped her hair free of its ponytail, blowing it around her face and into her eyes. Her breath puffed out. Her pack bounced mercilessly on her back. She tried to pull her hand free of Noah’s, unwilling to accept his help no matter how tired she was, but he refused to let go. His grip tightened. He practically dragged her now. Shouting at him would do no good. He wouldn’t be able to hear her over the storm raging around them.

  A tree limb slapped her in the face, barely missing her eye. She ducked as he veered right, pulling her along with him.

  The terrain became rougher and steeper. The trees thinned, opening into rock. Attie blinked the water out of her eyes, squinting to see around her for somewhere to take shelter. Her feet grew heavy, her breath sawed in and out of her lungs.

  They climbed over rocky terrain. The incline made her calf muscles burn, but she kept on going, slipping and sliding over slick rock. At one point she lost her footing when her boot slipped across a wet rock, and she went down painfully on one knee. She wasn’t too cold to feel that as she cracked her shin.

  Gritting her teeth against the pain, Attie stayed on her knees, head down. Numbing pain shot up her thigh.

  Ahead of her Noah faltered. She pushed to her feet before he turned, and lunged ahead. He motioned to his left and headed in that direction. Attie looked and saw the opening of a cave about fifty yards away. It looked more like a crawlspace, but she’d take it. Nodding, she headed toward it.

  They crouched low and inched their way toward the opening at the other end. The tunnel opened into a cave too small to stand in. It was just as cold and damp in here, but it would suffice. All they needed to do was wait out the storm.

  Noah set a lantern in the center of the cave and shrugged out of his pack. Attie did the same, glad to be rid of the weight, and sat on the ground, stretching her legs out in front of her. Feeling his eyes on her, she glanced his way to find him frowning at her.

  “What?”

  “You’re bleeding.”

  She lifted a hand to her cheek, remembering the branch that had hit her. Warm blood slid onto her fingers.

  “I have a butterfly bandage in my First Aid kit.” Noah unzipped one of the side pockets of his pack.

  “I have my own kit.”

  “I need to look at it to see if you need stitches.”

  Attie jerked her pack open. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Have you got a mirror?”

  Where was her kit?

  Noah was crouched beside her before she could protest, First Aid kit in hand. But his was no ordinary kit. Not only did it carry First Aid supplies, but survival gear. This man had been trained by the Navy to survive in any condition.

  With Noah Kincaid, what you saw was not necessarily what you got. For instance, she knew he preferred a Sig Sauer 9mm and carried a dive knife on his person, though you wouldn’t find it if you looked.

  The cave got even smaller with him so close. Her pulse quickened. He reached for her chin and she scooted back, bumping into the wall. The last thing she wanted was for him to touch her.

  “Just give me the mirror, Kincaid,” she said, licking her suddenly dry lips.

  He moved with her, anticipating her reaction, so he was again crouched next to her. Close enough she could see the raindrops that clung to his eyelashes and upper lip. His lashes were long and dark, framing a pair of blue eyes. Her eyes traveled over his jaw, which was covered with two-day stubble, making him look more rugged than usual.

  As an instructor at the academy he’d shown up to class the first day in well-worn fatigues and combat boots that had seen better days. His hair had been long enough to curl around his shirt collar. He hadn’t shaved that morning either. She still remembered that day and the shock of meeting him for the first time. She’d expected her instructor to be older and more experienced, but had quickly learned her mistake. Noah Kincaid might not have the experience in number of years, but in knowledge he far exceeded her expectations.

  She’d experienced an odd jolt of awareness as she watched him, noticing the grace with which he moved and the confidence in his stance. He was a man who took control and demanded attention. The silence in the classroom confirmed her suspicions.

  He had stood silently at the head of the class, measuring each and every student individually with a cool, steady gaze. Attie remembered her turn to be scrutinized. His size hadn’t intimidated her, but his eyes did. When he looked at her, she’d had to fight the urge to shield herself. There was a tranquility about his eyes, yet they looked straight into her soul and read all her
secrets. It unnerved her, but knew she would have to get used to it, being the only female in the academy. She hadn’t known what to expect from this rugged, silently intense instructor and it hadn’t taken long to find out…

  “Hold still.”

  She glared at Noah, who cupped her chin again and leaned close to inspect her wound. He ignored her stare and reached up with his other hand to probe her wound. By now she’d thawed out enough to feel the sting, but she didn’t jerk away. His fingers were warm against her skin and his breath stirred her hair.

  “From now on you wear a hat, not a hood,” he said.

  Attie scowled. “I forgot to pack one.”

  Noah glanced at her briefly. “Then you’ll wear mine. You don’t need stitches.”

  He let her go and opened his kit, which was very well organized. She was doing her best to remain unaffected by his closeness, and trying to concentrate on something else besides the feel of his fingers on her skin. His touch was light, a mere caress, but it affected her deeply, and that disturbed her.

  She glanced over and met Noah’s eyes, struck by their incredible color. They’d always had the power to entrance. They were doing it now. She couldn’t look away, and she couldn’t read his thoughts.

  For a moment time, stood still and all that separated them faded into the past. Noah’s hand cupped her cheek, his palm rough against her skin, and that familiar spark charged the air around them. She always wondered if it was her imagination or if others sensed it too. If they did, they never commented on it.

  It had been a long time since she’d experienced it, and it scared her even more now. As an agent she’d ignored it because she had to. But she wasn’t an agent any longer, and that was as dangerous a thought as any. What was this thing between them that hadn’t changed despite the past separating them? She didn’t understand it, couldn’t explain it, and didn’t know how to feel about it. Things had changed. There could be nothing between them. She had changed. He had done the unthinkable. A relationship was not in the cards for them, not now and not ever.

  The thought sobered her and she pulled away. Moments later she had a bandage on her cheek and distance between them. Just the way she needed it.