Strom burst through the wooden door as if it was made of cardboard. His eyes scanned the room quickly. No Raoul. Jorge had a knife in one hand. He had cut her face, Ingrid’s beautiful face. Then Strom saw red.
He didn’t bother using a weapon. That would have been too quick. He wanted to kill Jorge with his bare hands. Strom’s fists pounded into his face, his ribs and his chest. Anywhere he could inflict pain. Jorge tried in vain to slash Strom with the knife, but Strom barely felt a scratch. His hands circled Jorge’s throat, watching with grim satisfaction as the Cyraelian’s skin slowly turned purple and his eyes bugged out. Jorge made a choking sound, gasping for breath. In the end, throttling him wasn’t good enough. Strom wanted to rip his head off.
Jake and Pete had to pull him away. “He’s dead, Strom. Come on now, leave him, we have to help Ingrid.”
They had broken both of her arms, his precious Ingrid. Her blue dress was torn where Jorge had cut her with his blade, and her face. Her pretty face was a mess. This was his fault. She didn’t deserve any of this.
Ingrid’s left eyelid fluttered open. The other one was sealed shut with blood. “Strom, I didn’t tell them,” she whispered. “I didn’t tell them anything.” Her eye closed as she lapsed into unconsciousness.
Jake bent over her. “Strom, we have to get her to a hospital quickly! She probably has internal injuries.”
“No hospital, Ingrid is coming back with me.”
“Strom, are you crazy!” Pete shouted. “You could be court-martialed for that.”
“I don’t give a fuck. Give me your com unit, Jake.” Jake unpinned his badge and fastened it on Ingrid’s bloodied dress.
Strom lifted her unconscious body into his arms. “Central Com, this is Captain Strom Hallstrom, two to return. Lieutenant Svenson is injured. Transport us direct to Med Unit One.”
Ingrid’s long dark hair trailed gently in the stasis gel, it seemed to have a life of its own. She looked like an angel, a floating angel. Or perhaps she looked like a mermaid, except for her legs. He was growing fanciful. He hadn’t slept in thirty-six hours. Not since he’d brought her back. The doc had kept Ingrid sedated the whole time. There had been a lot of whispered conversations around him and he knew that he was in trouble. He had broken the primary rule that everyone learned at the Academy, the prime directive that was drummed into every cadet on their first day. Don’t bring a civilian home with you, no matter what, and he had smashed right through it.
Strom dropped his head into his hands. The doc said that back in her own time, Ingrid could have died. They had been sent to save her from Raoul, but instead she had saved him and the others. He had broken every one of his own rules since he met her—never let anything interfere with the mission, never let anyone get under his skin, never fall in love. Now Ingrid had paid the price.
The door opened. His dad had arrived with Leona. Strom knew that his actions could affect them too. His dad was a wily old devil who had been through more than his fair share of skirmishes, both on and off-world. He would survive. He wasn’t too sure about Leona. She was in charge of the mission. What a nice little family mess he had made. His father’s hand pressed lightly on his shoulder.
“You get some rest, son. I’ll sit with her for a while.”
Strom slept for sixteen hours straight. When he woke, Ingrid’s scars were gone. Even the laser knife burns. The doc had offered to wipe her short-term memory, but that meant she would forget him too and he didn’t want that. He knew she wouldn’t either.
Leona called a meeting the next day. Ingrid was better, physically anyway. He wasn’t going to be court-martialed, but he was severely reprimanded and it would appear on his permanent record. After kicking his heels in debriefing for a few days, Strom was ordered to take Ingrid back and complete the mission. It was too far advanced to risk a change of personnel now.
He had confessed that he had stolen Jake’s com badge to bring Ingrid back with him. Hopefully, when this was over they wouldn’t go too hard on the others. As for him, he and Raoul had a date that he was really looking forward to and Raoul was going to pay for everything he had put her through.
All of the secret thoughts he had entertained about Ingrid were completely out of the question. He knew that now. Ingrid couldn’t stay in his world and how could he live in hers? There was hardly an inch of him that wasn’t tech-enhanced. He was a walking, talking, million-credit military investment that Fleet Command wouldn’t give up without a fight. How long would they have together before the Department of Temporal Security sent someone after him? A temporal extraction team that would drag him back to his own time and wipe his memories of her? He felt a sudden stab of pain. They would take him, but what would they do to Ingrid? He couldn’t let that happen.
He had been sent to save her and stop Raoul, but their intervention in her life had almost killed her. He had asked Ingrid to trust him, but in the end he hadn’t managed to protect her. His own wife—and he had let them hurt her and that bastard Raoul was still free. The taste of failure was bitter in his mouth.
The other women he had known paled into insignificance beside her. His sweet, brave, beautiful Ingrid. What cruel twist of fate could allow two people to fall in love and then put five hundred years between them? This whole thing was impossible. He had to face it. He was no good for Ingrid. They could have no future together. As soon as this mission was over, he was out of her life for good, or he would end up hurting her more than he already had.
Chapter Five
Ingrid woke up in her bedroom with a thumping headache. The blue bedside clock, vaporized by Strom, had been replaced by a singing chicken alarm clock. Someone was really trying to piss her off, probably Finn. That was her first task. When she was vertical again, she was going to kill Finn.
Bearing in mind that it was eight p.m., the apartment was eerily quiet. She tried to lift her head from the pillow and found that she couldn’t. The memories hit her like blows from a hammer—Barbara’s dead body, Raoul’s fist as he struck her and the smell of burning flesh. Then she screamed.
They surrounded the bed in less than thirty seconds. Four gorgeous guys, all looking as if they cared about her. Finn was crying, and even Pete, the shyest of them, kissed her on the cheek and welcomed her home. Strom hung back until the others left.
“What happened to me? I was…”
“Shhh.” The viking stroked her face.
“I thought I told you not to Shhh me.”
The viking managed a weak smile. “I’ll leave you to get some rest.”
“No,” she protested. “I don’t want to be alone. Please, Strom.”
A flicker of indecision crossed his face and she thought he was going to leave. Then he sat on the edge of the bed and kicked off his shoes. She felt his weight on the bed beside her and his arm crept around her and he pulled her against him.
“Oh, Ingrid,” he sighed. “What am I going to do with you?”
She suppressed the desire to giggle at the sheer irony of it. She had finally got the viking into bed with her and she hadn’t the energy to do anything about it.
When she woke up, it was still dark and the viking was lying beside her. Not under the quilt with her, that would have been too much to hope for, but at least he was still lying on her bed.
“Are you in pain, Ingrid?”
“No,” she whispered, “I’m just a little bit cold.”
Heaving a deep sigh, Strom rolled onto his side and gathered her into his arms again. Ingrid snuggled against him. “Won’t you get cold out there?”
She heard a low rumble of laughter. “I’m a soldier, Ingrid. I’m used to sleeping on rough terrain.”
“But you’re not on duty now and it’s the middle of the night. Please…”
He rolled away from her and Ingrid heard the soft thud of a shirt hitting the floor and the erotic hiss of a zipper. She was suddenly feeling a whole lot better. The viking slid between the sheets and she was startled by the heat of him. He was like a one-man fu
rnace. He curved his arm around her and pulled her against his chest. She could feel his heartbeat against her cheek, slow and steady.
“Strom, I remember about the museum, but…”
“Ingrid, not tonight. I promise we’ll talk tomorrow.”
He was still there when she woke. The sun was trying to fight its way through the clouds and she caught the scent of coffee wafting from the kitchen. She wriggled back into his arms, sighing happily.
“Your hair tickles me,” he grumbled. She could feel Strom’s hand trying to smooth her unruly curls away from his face.
“And you take up more than half the bed.”
His fingers raked through her hair, curling tendrils around his fingers and letting them go. “I could always find another bed if you want,” he offered.
Ingrid rested her chin on his chest as she gazed up at him. “Or some rough terrain. Try the Phoenix Park. It’s not far from here and I’m sure the wild deer would be more than happy to share with you.”
Strom’s eyes darkened with a faint hint of longing. “I think I’d rather share with you.”
Ingrid’s tongue flicked out and she licked her lips nervously. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? She inched closer, staring at his mouth, desperately wanting to kiss him.
The bedroom door opened and Finn appeared, carrying a breakfast tray, setting it down with a clatter on her bedside table. “All your favorites, Ingrid—one large latte with chocolate sprinkles, fresh croissants and apricot preserve. Nothing but the best for my girl.”
The bedroom door closed again. The viking was gone, taking his clothes with him.
When he reappeared, Strom was clean-shaven and his hair was damp. He didn’t lie on the bed this time, but pulled up a chair and stayed a respectful distance away from her.
“We have to talk about what happened at David’s house.”
Ingrid nodded. She had been trying not to think about that. She’d had some very strange dreams. Something about swimming and doctors and bright lights, but it was all mixed up and seemed to have happened a very long time ago, not just the day before yesterday.
“When we got to David’s house, they carried me upstairs. Barbara was there, and she was… S-s-she was dead. And then Raoul came.” She could feel a tear sliding down her face and she brushed it away impatiently. Ingrid couldn’t look at Strom’s face, so she stared instead at Finn’s ridiculous alarm clock. “He kept asking me about the team and who they reported to and where you were, but I wouldn’t tell him.”
She stole a look in Strom’s direction. His hands were clenched in his lap and his knuckles were white. She had to get this over with. “Then he came back with the other man.” Her voice began to shake and she took a deep breath. “I was so scared when I heard them coming up the stairs that I started to laugh. They must have thought I was crazy. The other man had some kind of knife and it burned and I…”
Ingrid heard a crash as the chair fell to the floor and then she was in his arms and he was kissing her face.
“I’m sorry, Ingrid, I’m so sorry. All of this is my fault. I should have gone with you. I shouldn’t have let you out of my sight for an instant.”
“Don’t blame yourself. It’s my fault too. I shouldn’t have gone looking for David.” She kissed him, a slow sweet embrace, and he responded in kind, with long, deep kisses that almost made her forget.
She settled into his arms again. “What happened afterward? I know that I didn’t go to the hospital, but my arm and the—”
“I took you back to the future.”
“You what?” Ingrid struggled to sit up, but Strom pulled her back down again.
“We’ve been gone for a week. You gave the docs in Med Unit One quite a surprise. They were expecting Jake and they had to put an emergency contagion field around the entire unit to protect everyone from all those twenty-first-century bugs that you carry.”
“I do not carry bugs,” she protested, slapping him halfheartedly. She didn’t have the strength to inflict a decent blow.
“Oh yes, you do,” he said, rolling away from her flailing hands. “Do you know how many sessions of immuno-therapy we had to have before coming here? You’ll probably keep the contagion research unit busy for a year.”
His smile faded and his eyes grew serious once again. “It’s not over yet. You know that, don’t you?”
Ingrid nodded.
“We have to drag Raoul out into the open and take him back where he belongs.”
She didn’t want to think about that. David and Barbara were still lying dead in their house and Raoul had to be caught. But when the mission was over, there would be no reason for Strom and the others to stay here. They would have to go back to their own time and she didn’t know how she would cope with that.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked nervously.
“Tomorrow, we need you to go to the police.”
The interview room at the police station wasn’t like the ones on TV. It didn’t have two-way mirror or anything fancy like that. The elderly sergeant produced an ancient tape recorder and he invited Ingrid to give her name and address before she made her statement. Ingrid had brought her thesis and photographs of the fake artifacts along with her, but that only seemed to confuse him.
“So let me get this right, Ms Sorrenson. You believe that someone has been stealing from the museum, replacing the artifacts with fakes, and that since you brought your theory to your boss, he hasn’t been seen?”
Ingrid nodded nervously.
“You need to speak into the microphone, dear. Nodding your head doesn’t work.”
“S-s-sorry,” she stammered. “I mean, yes. Dr. Martin was very concerned. He said he was going to speak to Mr. Jasson, in case there had been a mix-up or something…” Oh god that sounded so lame. No wonder they were looking at her as if she was an idiot.
“I’m just worried about David. I mean Dr. Martin.” Damn. Now she sounded like a hysterical female who was in love with her boss.
“These are very serious accusations, Ms. Sorrenson. Are you sure you want to make them?”
Ingrid didn’t hesitate. There was no going back now. “I’m certain.”
It seemed like forever before her statement was typed up and brought for her to sign. When she finally left the police station two hours later, she felt like a limp rag. Strom and Jake were waiting across the street.
“How was it?”
“Awful, they think I’m an idiot.”
Strom put his arm around her. “Hush, let’s get you home.”
More police arrived early the following morning. Not the kindly sergeant this time, but two sharp-eyed plainclothes detectives. They were very interested in her story. She wasn’t the only one who had contacted the police about the Martins the previous night. One of the neighbors had a spare key for the Martins’ house, and when she let herself in to put away their mail, she had found David’s body.
Their questions were endless. Could she repeat her story again? Just how well did she know Dr. Martin? Were they in a relationship? Where was she every minute of the day for the past week?
Then there was Jake. She had introduced him as her boyfriend at the museum. Her colleagues had seen them together. David Martin’s secretary thought they were engaged. Strom raised his eyebrow when he heard that one, but wisely said nothing. They questioned them together. They questioned them separately, but it was hours before they were released from the police station. They hadn’t had much time to concoct a mutual alibi and now the police were convinced that she was a sex-crazed curator who spent all of her time in bed with Jake when she wasn’t at work.
Once the police became involved, Strom went back into mission mode. It was as if their tender interlude had never happened. She couldn’t understand it. How could he switch his feelings on and off like that?
Life at the museum was worse. Her return to work was greeted with astonishment and she was immediately summoned to HR and advised that she was on leave until the police inv
estigation was concluded. On Friday, she got to meet Agent Guinand from Interpol, an intense Parisian investigator who specialized in international art smuggling. Raoul’s contacts with other museums were being investigated and the same pattern of theft had been uncovered. It was going to take months to sort everything out. She felt like a fly caught in a spider’s web.
Worst of all, her viking was treating her as if she was made of spun sugar. He slept in her bed, but apart from a few gentle kisses, he hadn’t touched her at all. It was driving her crazy. There was only one person she could turn to for love advice.
“I don’t believe it, Sorrenson. I thought you and he were, you know…”
“Finn, if we were, do you think I’d be having this conversation with you?”
“There’s no need to snap.”
“Sorry, it’s just that …”
Finn looked at her woebegone face. “This is the twenty-first century, Ingrid. Why are you waiting for him to make a move on you?”
“It’s a little bit difficult, considering…” Ingrid flushed scarlet. She must really have it bad for the big guy.
“Considering that you’re tripping over the rest of us.”
“Exactly.” She looked pleadingly at him. “So I was wondering Finn, if you could take the others out for the evening.”
Finn rubbed his hands with glee—a wild night on the town and a ton of delicious gossip to look forward to tomorrow. “Hon, it would be my pleasure, but you have to promise to tell me everything, and I mean everything.”
* * * * *
Strom turned the key in the lock of the apartment door. He was becoming accustomed to the antiquated devices they used here. The others were out for the night. Finn had offered to take Pete and Jake for a cultural tour of the city. He wasn’t sure what that entailed, but knowing Jake, it was bound to involve women or alcohol or both.
Central Com had just contacted him with an intelligence report confirming that Raoul had returned to the twenty-sixth century. This mission was almost over. Jake had a final meeting with Agent Guinand from Interpol tomorrow afternoon and the following morning they were going home.
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