From Mission to Marriage

by Lyn Stone

  She and Clay would have to act on the vision alone then. No official backup could be secured with the nebulous information provided by what the authorities would term a hallucination. They still had nothing official on James Hightower, only her strong suspicion.

  At least that bomb found beneath the judge’s vehicle created enough of a question about James to keep the search teams busy looking for other explosives he might have set.

  She went to wake Clay. They needed to get up to Killbird Mountain. She had no idea whether the outcome of his vision could be changed or if it was fated to end in the failure he had sensed, but she certainly intended to do everything within her power to put a better end to the situation.

  Surely there was a reason why the visions had come to Clay in the first place. He was, expected to do something about it, or what would be the point of the spirits warning him?

  He had detailed the vision as much as possible. The early parts were crystal clear, he’d said. James planting the bombs in a hurry, Sauk’s murder, James’s thinking of Killbird. Clay, Vanessa and her grandfather had all agreed that this portion of the vision must have happened real-time, as events were going on.

  What Clay had said had come off rather hazy and flashed in and out like a faulty strobe were the latter parts���the lightning bolts, the chase up the mountain and the so-called falling away of the earth. All that had to be prophetic.

  An hour later, she and Clay were just now about to ascend Killbird. They parked her vehicle on a side road at the foot of the mountain, got out and shouldered the packs her grandfather had prepared for them.

  “You did notify the sheriff’s office exactly where we’re going, didn’t you?” Clay asked as they set off plowing through the brush.

  “I did, but they thought that looking for James up there was pretty far-fetched. I had to tell them it was just a hunch we were going to check out. Admitting that we’re following a vision might not cut much ice with most of them. Michael would laugh his butt off, I can guarantee that.”

  “And he might be justified,” Clay muttered. “Who knows how much of what I saw was a real vision and not just my warped imagination?”

  Vanessa scoffed. “You saw Tim Sauk’s death. We know that’s all too real. I almost wish I had told Michael about your vision when I sent him over there to check on Tim. Of course, then he might have decided you or I had something to do with killing him.”

  “If he was killed,” Clay reminded her. “Maybe he did fall off the balcony and break his neck. A hell of a coincidence if he did, but entirely possible.”

  “No it’s not,” she argued. “And if you were just dreaming up stuff, how would you have gotten the name Killbird? It’s not even called that on any maps you might have seen. Today they call it Wuh-Tehh Peak. Like you can rename a mountain any old thing you want.”

  They trudged along through the rough terrain near the foot of Killbird. There were no paths up the mountain since few people ever ventured up there. The climb was steep, rocky, tiresome and the view from the top totally uninspiring. True, you could see the rooftops in town with good binoculars, but there were also the ugly outlying shanties. No wild beautiful mountain vistas like you got from Clingman’s Dome or some of the other elevations. There were simply better mountains around here to climb with breathtaking offerings at their peaks. Much better ones for the experts who liked climbing vertical rock faces for sport, too. Old Killbird was left pretty much alone.

  James Hightower was well aware of that, Vanessa was certain. He’d probably be up there somewhere by now, though they had seen no signs of him so far. There was no point trying to track him. He could have begun his climb anywhere around the base of Killbird.

  The trees, still in full leaf, kept most of the sun blocked. The brush and ground cover thinned the higher they got. Rocks, some enormous and part of the mountain itself, made climbing in a straight path impossible. Still, it wasn’t a bad hike, Vanessa thought. She let Clay take the lead, mostly so she could feast her eyes.

  He would be gone soon, but she did not intend to follow him to McLean, Virginia. She would not accept the job with this COMPASS team, even if he did decide she was qualified.

  Clay had gone into great detail during their two days of downtime and now she fully understood what the new position would entail. The prospect fascinated her, she had to admit. Working for this elite team would definitely be a huge step up in her career. She knew it was quite an honor to even be considered. But the trade-off troubled her and had played a large part in her decision not to accept the offer. Personal reasons played into it, as well.

  She had done a lot of thinking about it in the early morning hours as she’d waited for him to emerge from the little hut and his visit with the spirits. Maybe they had spoken to her, too, in a way.

  Clay had not yet come to terms with who he really was. Indian or white? Loner, or a part of something much larger than himself? He was struggling with this and likely had been all his life. Vanessa knew she confused the issue for him, but she couldn’t help trying to make him fit. Finding himself was something a man���or a woman���needed to do alone.

  Maybe she also needed to get a firmer grip on her own self before she even thought about getting somebody else in order. She was a buttinsky, a do-gooder, a fixer by nature. But, in the end, she was probably just as out of sync as Clay was.

  Look at her life goals right now. They were to excel, to impress the hell out of her superiors in the Bureau and provide an example for young Indians who doubted they could make a career for themselves. How self-important was that? As if she had all the answers.

  She should be focusing on something else, but she wasn’t sure just what that was. Anyway, she had come to the conclusion that two heads not screwed on straight were, in no way, better than one.

  Maybe sometime in the future… No, she couldn’t think that way, or she would talk herself right into that job she didn’t need to take, the one that would keep her in Clay’s pocket. She was not going to Virginia.

  Her eyes had settled on his strong back, the confident and graceful way he moved, that tight butt that looked so darn good in worn jeans. She released a little huff of appreciation followed by a groan of regret, then shook her head to clear it.

  What wouldn’t she give to share just one night with this guy and make memories to last forever? Would it ruin her for any future relationships? Vanessa wondered. That curiosity of hers would be her downfall if she didn’t watch it.

  Hours later, the sound of his breathing told Vanessa the altitude was getting to him. She was feeling a little lightheaded herself. Clay shrugged off his backpack and tossed it on a flat rock nearby. “Let’s camp here.”

  Hrara. More command than suggestion, but that was okay for now. “This is fine. Too dangerous to go on without good light.”

  All the way up Killbird there were deep ravines, sheer fissures in the mountain that dropped off unexpectedly. This was the first level clearing they had reached and darkness would be falling within the hour.

  “We’re about halfway up, aren’t we?” he asked.

  Vanessa dropped her own pack and followed it down, stretching out full length on her back, hands cushioning her head. “Man, I hope so! My calf muscles are screaming.”

  He sat down beside her on the rock’s surface, slid one hand underneath her leg and massaged the muscle there for a minute. She groaned appreciatively. “Oh, yeah.. .other one, please.”

  He complied and she felt the tightness relax beneath his fingertips. “Higher?” he asked.

  She sat up, almost too quickly and scooted out of reach. “Uh-uh, that’s okay.”

  Clay smiled. “Why so skittish?”

  He knew why and he knew she knew it. Massaging her thighs was not a good idea. A deliriously provocative idea, but not a good one.

  She ignored his question, began plundering inside her backpack and asked one of her own. “Hungry?”

  “Not yet. You go ahead, though.”

 
; She tossed him a candy bar. “Me? I like to start with dessert.”

  “You wicked girl.” He tore off the wrapper, took a bite of the chocolate, then handed the rest back to her.

  She munched on the candy while taking a last look around them before darkness made it impossible. Better get their minds back on the case. “Think James knows we’re after him?”

  “I doubt he’s spotted us since we’ve been under cover of the trees most of the time. Tomorrow could be different.”

  Vegetation would grow sparser as they climbed higher. Fewer trees, more rock. Visibility would be greater.

  “This is the safest way up and probably the way he came, but we haven’t seen any sign of him,” Vanessa said, uncapping her bottle of water. “That makes me think he’s being careful not to leave any obvious tracks.”

  She took a swig, wishing the water were ice cold instead of lukewarm. She offered him some and he took it, grimacing a little after he tasted it.

  “Maybe he’s psychic,” Clay suggested, and not in a facetious way. “Many people have feelings they don’t recognize as being extrasensory and act on them instinctively. Or maybe he’s paranoid.”

  “Which doesn’t mean we’re not out to get him,” Vanessa said with a dry laugh.

  Clay smiled with her. “How do you do it?”

  “Do what?” she asked.

  “Lighten everything up the way you do. Even in the tensest situations, you seem able to find a little dash of humor. Look at you now, as relaxed as if this were merely a stroll up the mountain to enjoy the fall foliage.”

  He shook his head and glanced around them. “Look at the colors, how they’re beginning to turn. I wish that really was why we were here.”

  “Me, too.” Vanessa lay back on the rock and took another bite of the candy bar. She chewed for a minute. “Whatever I do must not be a conscious thing. I wasn’t aware of it anyway. I guess joking around is a defense mechanism to keep from getting too wound up.”

  He reached for the candy, his fingers brushing over hers as he took it from her. “Maybe the secret’s in the chocolate.”

  “Cures what ails you,” she said with a grin, snatching it back and finishing it off.

  “You have a little…” He leaned over and stroked the corner of her mouth with one finger, a slow sensual caress that fired all her senses at once.

  Before she knew what she had done, Vanessa touched his finger with her tongue. Their gazes locked, darkened faster than the sun had slipped behind the mountains.

  He traced her lips, pressing the bottom one lower, opening her mouth as his descended on it. Just like that, they were kissing. Again.

  Chapter 9

  V anessa sighed deep and long, drawing in his scent, damn near desperate for it. His sound of satisfaction hummed through her. It was just one of those golden moments that didn’t need sunshine to make it so.

  Any second, she expected him to draw back, tell her how they couldn’t do this, that it would tangle up their lives, that they had to stop. Only he didn’t. Instead, his arms snaked around her and cushioned her back from the rock on which they lay. One large hand cradled her head as he deepened the kiss, changed the angle, devoured her.

  She felt herself floating, then realized he was lifting her off the rock. Seconds later, he lowered them both to the grassy ground. Vanessa realized then that she would have to be the one to call a halt to this if they were to stop at all.

  If he had not arranged her on top instead of beneath him, she knew she wouldn’t have said a word. As it was, he had more or less put her in control. She felt obligated and oh, so reluctant. With another sigh, this time of regret, she moved back, her arms propped on his chest and looked down at him. She could hardly see his features clearly now in the deepening twilight. “Almost got away from us, didn’t it?” she whispered.

  He released his breath slowly and ran his hand over the side of her face, letting it come to rest on the curve of her neck. It lingered there, warm, comforting, possessive. She knew he could feel her pulse going ninety to nothing. “Yeah, it did.”

  She noted he didn’t apologize for it this time. Neither would she. If she was sorry about anything at all, it was that her common sense had kicked in when it had. She wanted him so fiercely even now, she could hardly keep from kissing him again to let him know how much.

  “Gotta get up from here or it might yet.” She pushed off him and sat back on the grass, running her hands through her hair and resting her elbows on her knees.

  Neither she nor Clay needed this complication, they both agreed on that. This “it” they were fighting grew like summer crepe myrtle, branching out in all directions at once and making a huge tree before you knew it if you didn’t keep cutting it back. Maybe it was time to dig it right out of the ground. She knew how to do that. She would use a blunt shovel.

  “Look, Clay,” she said, “you want me because I make you feel more Indian. No, don’t deny it,” she said before he could get a word out. “That’s the draw right there. That’s the whole deal. All your life, you’ve played at being red, haven’t you? Studied the languages, the customs, even wear your hair that way to enhance your features. You do look the part, I’ll grant you that. But inside, you’re mostly white and you know it. It eats at you.”

  He cleared his throat. She could tell he was facing away from her when he spoke. “Get to the point.”

  She had hit a nerve, big time. “All right. You want to deny that white part, but if you do, you know you’ll have to become some sort of totem for the rest of us, right? That’s the way you’re made. You’d have to do something in the way of setting things right. In other words, you wouldn’t be working for the very government who took away the lands and rights and customs you would profess to own.”

  He issued a grunt, then a short laugh. “That’s without a doubt the most patently ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard you say. Where is this coming from?”

  “The heart,” she said, sounding a little too flip, or more so than she had intended. “As for me, my motive for wanting you is a lot less convoluted. You’re hot as a firecracker.”

  He laughed outright, the soft sound blending with the wind in the trees. “Vanessa Walker, what am I going to do with you?”

  “Nothing,” she stated baldly. “We are not going any further with this, Clay. Get over the Indian thing. You are half and that’s all you’ll ever be.”

  “So are you,” he said, still not angry the way she wanted him to be. “What about that Italian mother of yours? If the Cherokee are so matriarchal in their lineage, then you’re technically Italian.”

  Vanessa rolled her eyes. “You are so damned literal, Senate!”

  “And hot, don’t forget that. Hot as a firecracker.” He chuckled. “I like that. Might put it on my resume.”

  She sensed him stretch, could even see the vague silhouette of him as he did. “I’m serious. This is going nowhere.”

  “Might,” he argued. “But I won’t push.”

  “Promise?”

  For a long time he said nothing. “Maybe you’re right,” he said finally.

  Right about this going nowhere or right about his motive for wanting her? Vanessa couldn’t bring herself to ask and what did it matter anyway?

  He dragged both their packs down off the rock and set hers next to her.

  Vanessa felt around, then unbuckled the pack straps that secured her rolled-up blanket. In moments, she was snugly wrapped inside it with her head resting on the pack. Clouds obscured the moon and stars completely. She should have checked the weather. The mountain was as dark as the back of a cave and you could almost smell the rain.

  Clay startled her when he settled right next to her with his back flush against hers. Not a lot of safety in that, but she supposed it was more prudent than cuddling spoon-style.

  “Buona notte, volpe piccola,” he said with a smile in his voice. Goodnight, little fox.

  “Good night, White Eyes,” she replied.

  Somehow she’d thoug
ht he would be a lot more sensitive about his heritage, that her insults would put him off big time and solve their problem. Instead, he seemed to find everything she’d said amusing.

  And he hadn’t really promised when it came to not pushing for something to happen between them. It was almost as if he knew something eventually would and, like it or not, neither of them could do a damn thing about it.

  Vanessa tried like crazy to squelch that eager, wicked little voice inside her that screamed a fist-pumping, Snoopy-dancing Yes!

  Surely her brain was suffering a dearth of oxygen at this elevation. All right, maybe they weren’t that high up yet, but it was definitely laboring under the deliriously combined scent of fresh mountain air and essence of Senate.

  At any rate, she wouldn’t sleep a wink with that magnificent blue-jeaned butt pressed smack against hers. That was the last conscious thought before exhaustion overtook her.

  However, late in the night, she did wake long enough to realize it wasn’t his back that snuggled next to her, but his front. One strong arm surrounded her, his hand resting lightly on her forearm. If his breathing hadn’t been so deep and regular, she might not have willed herself back to sleep.

  Clay woke to a sound he recognized only from the murky depths of his vision. Quietly so as not to disturb Vanessa, he moved away from her and rose as stealthily as he could. Dawn was just breaking. He released the safety on his pistol and crept nearer the rock outcropping a little less than thirty feet away from where they’d slept.

  Again he heard the high-pitched growl and identified its position. Just above him on the enormous rock, which projected straight out of the ground like a small mountain in itself, crouched a panther.

  Clay froze in firing position. He had fifteen rounds, surely enough to bring down a cat of any size. This one was not enormous. One shot to the head, right between the eyes. But if he missed? Better aim for the heart. The nine-millimeter H&K had stopping power.