From Mission to Marriage

by Lyn Stone

  Hightower moved to the cave’s entrance, carefully staying out of Clay’s reach should he kick out again.

  Clay held the gun on him. “Give it up, Hightower. Every badge in the southeast will be on your tail within the hour.”

  “No way for them to know. I got rid of your phone.” He nodded at the backpack near where Vanessa lay. “You toss the piece over here, Fed. If you don’t, I push this button.” He held the remote just outside the cave, pointed toward Cherokee.

  Clay figured Hightower wanted to wait until tomorrow so his bombs could do the optimum damage when the festival got underway, but it was clear he would do it now if pushed. And who knew how many other places he had wired to blow?

  “You use that and I guarantee you won’t live to hear the blasts,” Clay promised.

  “But you will,” Hightower taunted. “And all those deaths will be on your conscience, won’t they!” He inclined his head to Vanessa. “She’ll blame you, too. If she lives.”

  Vanessa was lying there bleeding from a head wound. She needed immediate help.

  “Shoot me and my reflexes will trigger this, Fed. Let me go and you’ll have about eighteen hours to find me.” He smiled and began backing out of the cave. “If you can find me. I’m counting on you to try.” Then he darted out of the cave and disappeared.

  Clay let him go. Helping Vanessa was first priority. He could catch Hightower later.

  He knelt beside Vanessa, raked back her hair with one finger and examined the wound. A bloody gash rather than a bullet hole, thank God. Hightower must have butt-stroked her with the pistol after he’d fired. That made sense. He wouldn’t want to shoot them unless he had to.

  She was groaning now and trying to sit up. He grabbed the water bottle from the scattered items of the backpack and wet her face, daubing the worst of the blood off her with the T-shirt he had used as a towel earlier.

  He picked up his flashlight and turned it on for a closer look. “Open your eyes and look at me,” he coaxed. The skin on her forehead was broken, but the wound itself looked minor. However, with the goose egg forming around it, above her eyebrow, she could easily be concussed. “Let’s see those pupils,” he murmured.

  She blinked at him for a few seconds, then collapsed back with a moan. “He hit me!”

  “Lucky he didn’t shoot you. Look at me now. Follow my finger.”

  “Wh-where is he?” she demanded.

  “Got away, but I’ll get him. For now let’s get you squared away.”

  Clay rummaged around for the first-aid kit and found gauze and antibiotic ointment. He poured some water over his hands, splashed some on his face to clear off the worst of the mud and dried off on the shirt. With one of the antiseptic wipes, he cleaned his hands more thoroughly and treated her wound. “I don’t think you have a concussion. Eyes look okay. How do you feel?”

  She sat up then, a hand to her head as she shook it gently. “Brain scrambled. We need to get some more searchers up here.”

  “Can’t. He destroyed the phone.”

  “Oh yeah.” She sighed, remembering. “Without the phone, there’s no way we can call in and report that we found him and verify that he’s the bomber. If he manages to kill us like he plans, there’s nothing but my accusations and the circumstantial evidence provided by Lisa Yellowhorse to tie him to the bombs.”

  Clay ran a hand over her arm, caught her hand in his and nodded at Hightower’s .22, which lay several feet away. “Well, he’s unarmed now unless he has another weapon wherever he’s camped. I’m thinking if he had anything better than that cheap pistol, he would have been using it.”

  She rested her head on her hand and drew up one knee to prop her elbow on it. “We have to find him and we’ll need the element of surprise. You can bet he’ll be waiting somewhere he’s sure that detonator will work.”

  Clay agreed. “That also limits the area we’ll have to search.”

  She turned her head and smiled thinly. “Look for the silver lining, huh?”

  Clay heaved a sigh, sat down beside her and drew her into his arms. “That optimism of yours is contagious, I guess.”

  She clung to him and he held her tight, relishing the warmth of her body, thankful beyond everything that she was still breathing. She had escaped death yet again. How many times was this now? And how long would her luck hold?

  “Twice I almost lost you, Van.”

  “You, too. When he told me he cut your rope, I almost shut down and gave up. But I knew somehow you would make it.”

  “Borrowed some of your luck, I guess. I wish I could carry you back down this mountain and stash you somewhere safe until all this is over.”

  “As if I would let you,” she replied. “This is my case and I’m not about to hand it over because of a bump on the head. Quit trying to play knight in shining armor when you look like a giant mud pie.”

  “Good camouflage,” he said, setting her away reluctantly and noting how dirty he had gotten her. “How about if you rest here for a little while and get your wits together. I’m going out to take a look around.”

  She was standing up before he was and brushing off the seat of her pants. Clay realized he wasn’t going to go anywhere without her unless he butt-stroked her back into unconsciousness. “You are one hardheaded woman, Walker,” he snapped.

  “Lucky for both of us,” she quipped as she picked Hightower’s weapon off the floor of the cave and checked it for damage. She searched for her Glock, but it was nowhere to be found. “My weapon’s gone and his is empty.” She tossed it onto the pack.

  “We might as well gather up what’s left of our supplies and head out before his trail gets cold.”

  Clay just hoped there was a trail to follow. Hightower was much cannier than they’d figured. With a little luck, he could destroy everything he planned to, get rid of the only two people who could point the finger at him and walk away from this unscathed.

  Clay kept thinking about the part of his vision where the earth fell away and he experienced that sinking feeling of failure. Could he turn that around?

  “We’re going to stop him,” Vanessa declared, as if she had read Clay’s mind. Maybe she had.

  “You bet.” He smiled at her, admiring her grit and determination. And her hardheadedness, he admitted. She might frustrate the hell out of him, but he wouldn’t change a thing about her. Not a blessed thing.

  He was going to recommend her for COMPASS no matter what she said, and beg Mercier to hire her if he had to. Mercier could convince her to leave the Bureau.

  If nothing else, that would get her to McLean where Clay could see her often. As it stood right now, he didn’t think he could give her up, even if that meant he had to change jobs and move near her.

  Vanessa tried to ignore the pain in her head that was almost blinding. The going got rougher the higher they climbed and there was not as much cover. More rocks and fewer trees. Surprising James grew a lot less likely.

  “We should stop and go on after dark,” she suggested. “It’s more dangerous, but I don’t think we have much choice.”

  Clay looked at her, his expression concerned. “You’re not feeling up to this.”

  She patted his arm, giving it a squeeze, just because. That no-touching rule hadn’t lasted long. He had been ignoring it, too, soothing her with a palm to her back, on her waist as they walked.

  “He’s going all the way to the top,” she said. “We don’t need a trail. It’s solid rock up there so he can see all around him. And he’ll have a clear path with nothing but air between that damned remote and everything below. I honestly don’t know what approach we can use.”

  “There will be a trap between here and there. I feel it,” Clay said. “Question is, how elaborate is it? He hasn’t had much time to construct anything sophisticated.”

  Clay lowered the pack, leaned against a tree and drew her against him, cushioning her body with his as he held her. “He’s had ranger training. That’s scary right there.”

  “He’
s not so tough for a ranger. However, he has tramped these mountains since he was a kid. He’ll know all the possibilities.”

  She rested her hands on the arms that surrounded her and took comfort from Clay’s strength. Pressing the back of her aching head against his chest, she closed her eyes. If only they could stay this way for a while, just be together like this and relax.

  She felt him brush the top of her head with his chin and knew he placed a kiss there. It reminded her of her father whom she could barely remember. He used to kiss hurts to make them better. The memory made her smile.

  She could not afford to forget that they had a job to do here, a critically important task that might save countless lives. Lives of people she had known well all her life and truly cared about. Her people.

  “Let’s camp till dark,” he said, moving her gently away from him. “I’ll get you something for the headache.”

  “How do you know my head hurts?” she asked, looking up at him as she turned.

  “That little line right between your eyes,” he said, tracing it with one finger. “And your frown.” He trailed down to the corner of her mouth. “You almost never frown.” His voice had dropped to a near whisper. “I love your smile.”

  He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her so softly she could barely feel it. When he drew back, she saw something in his eyes that almost frightened her with its intensity. “Don’t make me love you,” she whispered. “Please don’t.”

  It wasn’t in the plan. Her life was all worked out and she didn’t have a place for anything permanent with a man. Instinctively, she knew Clay was the sort of man who would require more than she could give. Like everything.

  She knew how precarious relationships were in her line of work. And his. An enormous amount of trust was necessary. They would need double that to have any success at all.

  “You know it wouldn’t work.”

  He shrugged slightly and removed his hands from her arms with a gesture of surrender. “I’ll find the pills,” he said, crouching to open the pack.

  Just like that, he was giving up? Vanessa grasped her hair with both hands and turned away, amazed at the wave of disappointment and frustration that washed through her.

  Well, what had she expected, that he would kiss her within an inch of her life, overcome her every objection and sweep her off her feet and into blissful domesticity?

  She snatched the pills when he held them out and popped them in her mouth.

  He smiled knowingly as he handed her the nearly empty bottle of water. She upended it and swallowed, nearly choking.

  “Any chocolate left?” she snapped.

  He tossed her a Snickers before the words were out. How could a man covered in dried mud look so damned appealing? And so darn smug?

  Yeah, he knew it was too late. She already loved him.

  Chapter 12

  Darkness fell, the moon finally rose, and they were on their way again. Clay knew there were problems ahead that weren’t related to the present situation with Hightower. Personal stuff would have to take a back seat for now. They had a killer to catch.

  Vanessa cared about him, more than she wanted to. He’d give anything to know what was going on in that head of hers. She acted angry. He knew it was the result of her injury, frustration of the job and finally, predominately, her feelings for him.

  He wished he could show her that giving in to those wouldn’t limit her in any way. Or would it? If they were involved, could he stand to wave her off on an op, not knowing whether she would survive it or not? Could she bear to do that with him if she loved him?

  Given how hard it was now to even let her accompany him up this mountain and face a man who wanted to kill her, he had to wonder. Maybe she was right to fight this thing that was definitely escalating between them.

  Clay dreaded what would happen during this final confrontation with Hightower. He couldn’t feel any optimism. The vision kept plaguing him, that part about his gut-wrenching feeling of failure. He had always believed that approaching a project, whatever it was, with the expectation of success was key. Somehow he couldn’t muster that this time.

  “Damn the vision,” he muttered as he stumbled slightly on a rock.

  Vanessa placed a palm on his back, more in a gesture of mental support than physical. If he had taken a tumble there was no way her small frame would keep him upright. The true meaning of her touch didn’t escape him. She was there for him. She loved him. He knew it as well as he knew his own name.

  While that love made his heart swell to bursting, he couldn’t dismiss the worry that he had little to offer her. Good sex, yes. A learned skill and one that had always come naturally. His protection. He would give his very life for her without pausing to think about it. But hell, why would she welcome that? She thought she could protect herself as well as he could.

  She had told him outright she didn’t want anything permanent. Unless he left her alone altogether, he knew he could never settle for less with her. Even if he talked her into marriage, there was the issue of children. Given how she loved little Dilly, she would surely want some of her own someday. How could he ever be certain what he might pass on to their progeny when he knew nothing of his maternal lineage? Genetic problems? Mental illness? At the moment he didn’t feel too stable in that regard. How could he ask this brave, beautiful woman to be a part of his life?

  And how could he not? She had changed him so radically in the past few days, it was as if she already owned part of him, maybe the best part.

  “Gotta stop,” she said, her breath coming in little pants.

  Clay halted immediately and turned, taking her up in his arms. She was such a little featherweight. He carried her to a small clearing off to their right. When he had settled her on the ground, her back to a half-buried boulder, he sat down next to her. “Let’s get you rehydrated and down for a nap. How’s your head?”

  “Pounding,” she admitted, then checked the LED on her watch. “It’s nearly 3:00 a.m. I’m slowing you down. Maybe you should go on without me.”

  “Can’t leave you here. I won’t,” he said. “If you pass out, you’d be fair game for any predator, two-or four-legged.”

  “I’ll stay awake,” she promised. “You have to stop James.”

  He put the water bottle to her lips and helped her drink. “He won’t detonate until the fairgrounds are full. We’ll have until midmorning, I figure.”

  “God, I hope our little EOD team has located all the explosives.”

  “Unfortunately we can’t bank on that. That map of the fairgrounds could be a diversion. What if he’s rigged something else, like the museum or the other shops?”

  “Or the vehicles of those he’s sure will attend the festival. Several bombs in the parking lot would take out a big portion of the crowd,” she said. “It’s impossible to search everywhere.”

  “So we take that detonator away from him before he uses it,” Clay said.

  She nestled against him. “I’ll be okay in a few minutes, then we’ll go on. It’s not far to the top.”

  Not far at all. Clay looked up where the ragged summit blocked out half the sky. The harvest moon was full and gave off enough light to cast shadows of the trees and rock formations. He debated whether he could safely leave her here. No, she would be too exposed, too vulnerable. “Rest. We have plenty of time,” he said softly.

  The mountain was probably riddled with caves. If only there were another nearby, that would give her some protection. He left her sleeping and scouted the area nearby. Nothing but rocks, trees and a deep ravine cut by eons of spring runoffs.

  Just as he was returning to Vanessa, his eye caught a tiny flicker of light from above, not at the summit, but closer by. He stopped and stared at it. It blinked out for a split second, then reappeared.

  Clay hurried over and shook Vanessa gently. “Wake up. Have a look.”

  She grumbled for a second, rubbing her eyes, then sat up straight and peered at the spot he indicated.

&nb
sp; Clay slid his arm around her and massaged her shoulder. “At first 1 thought it was a flashlight, then saw it flicker. It’s a fire. Would he risk pinpointing his location this way?”

  She snorted. “He’s not that stupid. The weather’s too mild to demand warmth for survival. He wouldn’t build a fire to cook a meal. It’s a trap.”

  “Needs to get rid of us so he lures us up there.” This was her operation and she was in charge, he reminded himself. “Any ideas on how to approach?”

  “He’ll be waiting.” She thought for a minute. “Let’s split up. You’re strongest so you circle around, come in behind him. I’ll go straight in and try to keep him distracted.”

  Clay was already shaking his head. She might not like him protesting her plan, but he did it anyway. If he had to, he’d pull rank on her. “We’ll have to reverse that. He knows you were injured. I might make him believe I’ve left you down there, either dead or recovering, and come up alone. If we do it your way, he’ll be expecting me.”

  She agreed rather than arguing the way he had expected. She might be bullheaded, but she was also smart. “Let’s do it then.”

  Clay handed her his pistol. “Take this.”

  Vanessa wished for her Glock, but it was probably at the bottom of the gorge after that mighty kick she’d given it. And the .22 was useless without bullets. All they had now was Clay’s service weapon.

  “You keep it. I’m not letting you go up there bare-handed!”

  “I have to. He’ll have his finger on that button and make me toss it anyway. Get in position. If you can get off a shot that will take him out, take it. That will be our best and maybe our only chance. We have to do this now. Even if he detonates, there won’t be as many casualties below as there would be during daylight hours.”

  “But there could be some and even one is too many.” She took the weapon and peered up at him. “However this goes down, Clay, I want you to know I did everything I knew to do.”

  He caressed her face, gently brushing a lock of hair off her bruised forehead. “Right by the book. You’re the best agent I’ve ever worked with.”