Freeforce: The Gryphon Saga

by L. E. Horn

  Big across the shoulders, the top wouldn’t zip up around her full hips. Lianndra gave up after the second try, pinning it closed with her arms. The suit top remained warm from his body and smelled of male sweat. She didn’t think she’d ever experienced anything so comfortable.

  Although now naked from the waist up, he didn’t look cold. He had a long, lean torso with the bones barely covered with muscle.

  His dark brows dropped. “We went by the Coast Guard but their boat wasn’t there,” he said. “They must have been on another call so I didn’t stop. Should I call an ambulance?” His wet hair appeared so dark it was almost black, and his skin showed evidence of many hours in the sun. In vivid contrast, he had pale-colored eyes—not blue—but more silver-gray.

  Unusual and becoming, she thought. Then she realized he waited for a reply, obviously wondering if she suffered from shock.

  “No, no,” she said. Then she looked at herself. Her jeans were in shreds, and bloody lacerations ran across her bare feet. She straightened. “No, I’ll be fine. They’re just scrapes from the barnacles on the buoy.” She felt warmer, and the tremors lessened. “I don’t know how to thank you. The shark thought I was a turtle.”

  He looked confused at this last statement, no doubt wondering if she’d descended into delusions.

  Humor the crazy woman, Lianndra thought with a smile.

  He appeared undecided on the ambulance. She thought he might be even younger than she’d first assumed, maybe eighteen or nineteen. Nonetheless, he towered over her. Scott had been six foot two, but this gangly youth looked even taller. Like a Great Dane puppy, all bones and little muscle. Lianndra could count all his ribs, and his chest showed only the barest amount of dark hair. Still, he had promising breadth to his shoulders, and the bones of his face were settling into pleasing shapes.

  Give him a few years and he’ll be lining ’em up. She smiled again, craning her neck to look him in the eye. His eyes were open, unguarded—unblemished by life. Sheltered life, she guessed. It made her seem so much older, even though likely only five years separated them. At this stage in their lives, it seemed like a world of difference.

  Reassured by her smile, he placed a tentative hand on her arm and guided her along the floating dock toward the rental hut.

  “I’ll have to pay for the kayak.” Lianndra wondered just how much a plastic kayak was worth.

  He laughed. “I wouldn’t worry. You’ve had quite a scare—he’ll be happy you’re okay. The kayak will likely wash up on the tide line by morning.” He squeezed her arm. “By the way, my name is Michael Laughlin.”

  “Well, Michael, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t come along,” Lianndra said. “The tiger shark wanted to eat me for dinner.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Tiger shark? What makes you think it was a tiger shark? Are you sure?”

  “I saw the stripes.” Lianndra shuddered, pulling the wet suit tighter around her shoulders.

  At the mention of her identifying observation, Michael jumped immediately on board. “I’ll have to let the Harbor Master know there’s one around. They usually stick to the warmer water farther south. Those guys are bad news—even if you’re not a turtle.” They were just outside the rental hut when he paused. “Did you want to stop by my place until you warm up? My friend’s renting a house nearby. It’s right along the beach.”

  Michael seemed nice enough, and she likely owed him her life, but Lianndra wasn’t about to chance becoming part of some all-night beach party. “No, really, I’m fine. My inn is close.” She tugged at the wet suit. “Is there somewhere I can drop this off tomorrow?”

  “We’re the third place on the left, just down the road.” He pointed to the top of a contemporary house, just visible past a tall bluff. “Drop it off anytime. I have another one.”

  Lianndra smiled with relief. She didn’t want to seem ungrateful. Although this holiday started off rocky, she didn’t want to get entangled in any social scene. I would feel like an old woman hanging with his friends, anyway.

  Michael smiled at her as he held the marina office door open.

  He has a nice smile. Down girl. He’s too young, too uncomplicated. Besides, you’ve sworn off men for the foreseeable future.

  As Michael suggested, the rental man expressed relief she had survived the experience and reassured her the kayak would wash up on shore. If not, she would only be liable for the deductible.

  “You sure it was a tiger shark?” He echoed Michael’s skepticism. “We’re too far north for them.”

  “She saw the stripes,” Michael backed up her story.

  The smaller man shrugged. “With this climate change stuff going on, who knows what’s normal anymore.” He pushed papers across the counter to her. “If you can just fill out this form, we’ll only charge the deductible if it doesn’t show.”

  Michael stayed until she finished filling everything out. Darkness had fallen by the time they emerged from the hut and Lianndra accepted his offer to walk her back to the inn. Last thing I need is a mugging on the same day I almost get eaten by a shark.

  People strolled along the bay, mostly couples enjoying the warm spring evening. As they walked, Michael chatted about the local tourist sites. He fell silent as they approached the foyer door. Lianndra slowed and halted, unsure of how to say goodbye to someone who’d rescued her from a hungry tiger shark.

  Michael cleared his throat, rattling off a long jumble of words that exposed an underlying, endearing, nervousness. “You know, there is a little cove up the coast from here. It’s beautiful for snorkeling—private, and the fish are extraordinary. If you like, I could take you there before you leave. I have friends we could go with. I’d hate to think you won’t go back in the water. Sharks usually mind their own business and don’t bother people.”

  Peering at him in the light of the inn sign, Lianndra experienced a stab of guilt. He really saved my skin today. She was flattered he wanted to see her again. Although not a lot older than him in years, she felt far older in life experience. He is kind of hot, and I would love to enjoy the water before I go.

  “I don’t have a wet suit,” she hedged.

  “My friend’s got a spare.” He smiled as he scanned her body. “Should fit, I think.”

  Much to her surprise, Lianndra blushed as she heard herself saying, “Okay.” She remained grateful for the dim lighting. I’m on holiday after all. Why am I even fighting this? It sounds like fun. “I’m staying in room fourteen.”

  He positively beamed at her, white teeth flashing in the darkness.

  As he left, he called to her. “By the way,” he said, “what’s your name?”

  She laughed, amused her name hadn’t come up in conversation. “Lianndra . . . Lianndra Ross,” she called back to him.

  He mouthed her name to himself before waving and disappearing into the night. As he strode off, he whistled a tune vaguely familiar to her. She’d taken three steps before it popped into her head—the theme song to one of her favorite movies.

  Shaking her head, Lianndra skirted the front desk and jogged to her room, suddenly feeling exhilarated.

  Well. Who would’ve thought?

  Chapter Two

  THE NEXT DAY DAWNED STORMY, with dark clouds sweeping off the ocean.

  Lianndra lazed in bed for most of the morning before deciding that waiting around for Michael’s phone call would be juvenile. Why on earth didn’t I give him my phone number? I hope he can find the one to the front desk, or he’ll be sending smoke signals.

  She then made her way to the inn’s tiny foyer, which featured many local brochures, and selected one for an art gallery.

  The gallery proved interesting, but Lianndra’s feet were too sore to do much walking. It still poured rain when she prepared to leave. Returning to the inn, she checked for messages; went to dinner, returned to her room—checked for messages, scolded herself for being such a ditz . . . and then once again checked for messages.

  He’s likely thought bett
er of a scuba date with a hysterical woman he rescued off a buoy. Forget him. I would’ve enjoyed today if he hadn’t suggested we get together. I’m supposed to appreciate my solitude. She sighed. Not a good sign she jumped at the slightest offer of male company. Rebound big time. If he calls, I should just make excuses.

  The television was the only modern thing in the room. Halfway through a movie, she realized she’d lost track of the plot because she listened for the phone.

  He rescued me. Turning off the light, she slipped under the covers, and buried her head in the pillow. Just white knight syndrome—I’ve got to pull it together.

  No matter how she tried to distract herself, her thoughts kept returning to Michael and his charming smile. She took a long time to fall asleep.

  When the phone rang, she thrashed around in the covers, thinking she’d only been out for minutes. Yet the line of light around the edges of the curtained window indicated it was already morning. She grabbed at the phone, almost knocking it off the bedside table.

  “Hi, Lianndra! It’s Michael.”

  The introduction is unnecessary, she thought groggily. There’s no mistaking his enthusiastic voice.

  She sat up, talking to him on the phone from a lying position made her feel uncomfortable. “Hi, Michael. How are you?” She winced at her bubbly tone. Pull it together girl! “I haven’t been outside yet. Is it nice out?” She was stalling. Okay, now. Get ready to let him down gently.

  “No, dreadful actually,” he said. “Thought you might like someone to show you the sights. At least the indoor ones.” He sounded so hopeful.

  Lianndra’s spirits lifted. This is what my holiday is about. I’m supposed to have fun. Plus, it’s raining.

  All thoughts of turning him down fled, and she heard herself making arrangements to pick him up.

  So much for letting him down gently, she mused.

  THE SMALL MAN YAWNED AND rubbed his eyes. They’d driven all night to get back to Bodega Bay, and he’d done the lion’s share of it. Now he could barely keep his eyes open to watch the flashing light on his iPad.

  “Our prairie girl is on the move,” he said to his companion, who sat behind the wheel of the SUV. “The tracker is working perfectly.”

  The big man grunted. They were parked in the shadows of a carport just down the road from where their other target stayed. The owners weren’t due back from Australia for another week, which should give them sufficient time to accomplish their goals.

  The flashing red dot moved closer, and the little man frowned. “She’s coming close,” he said, and looked up through the windshield. “In fact . . .” he cut off as a distinctive yellow car drove straight past their location and stopped in front of their target’s house.

  “What the—” the big man said.

  “Do they know each other?”

  His associate shook his head. “They’re both Canadian and from the same province, but they live hours apart. Can’t see it.”

  They watched as the tall young man jogged out in the rain, carrying a red cooler. He hopped in the car, and it drove off.

  “Well, they know each other now,” the small man said.

  “She’s only been here three days.”

  “Well, she’s been busy.”

  The big man started the engine. “Get the boys rounded up,” he said. “Looks like Fate has smiled upon us.”

  RIGHT ON TIME, LIANNDRA PULLED up at a gorgeous house that looked at least twice the size of her family’s home. Michael jogged out in the pouring rain, wearing jeans and a heavy cable sweater with a windbreaker over top. He tossed a cooler into the back seat.

  He grinned at her as they pulled away from the house, and her heart did an odd little flip. Lianndra’s grin back at him had more warmth behind it than she intended.

  Oh, crap, she thought. I’d better get a grip, or I’m going to get in over my head in a hurry.

  The art gallery she’d seen the day before appeared first on his list to visit, but there were others in town. With the rain, all the galleries were humming with activity. They chose one, strolling through it while taking advantage of every opportunity to sit and talk. At first, Lianndra assumed the tall young man was taking his time to peruse the art. But after the third bench, she suspected he’d noticed her limping and accommodated her sore feet.

  Score one more point for Michael.

  After touring the galleries, they returned to the car. He directed her to an ocean lookout that took her breath away. A few carloads of people shared the same idea, gazing out to sea from the shelter of their cars as the raindrops fell.

  “A good spot for lunch,” Michael said. Twisting to reach between the front seats, he stretched a long arm for the cooler. In the confines of the little car, his movements brought his shoulder up against hers. Lianndra could smell him, a mixture of soap and warm male skin making her pulse bound.

  Down girl! By the time Michael settled himself back in his seat, Lianndra had schooled her expression to one of calm, revealing an interest in nothing more than lunch. Glancing at her self-appointed guide, she noticed his flushed face. Exertion? Or something else?

  He kept his gaze focused on food. Once they’d each selected a sandwich, he discussed the prevalence of great white sharks in northern California.

  Michael revealed himself as Canadian. “Grew up on a sheep farm,” he said after swallowing a big bite of ham and cheese. “Lucky enough to have a wealthy friend who can rent a big house.”

  “Nice! Wish I had those kinds of friends.” Lianndra laughed. “I won a prize to pay for most of this, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

  He flashed her a smile. “Well, I’m glad you are. As the proverbial third wheel, I’m bored with my roommates. Luckily, I’m good at keeping myself entertained.” He shrugged. “We’re basically runaways, escaping farm chores, future career decisions, and Trent’s rich parents, who don’t want him underfoot for more than a week at a time.”

  Lianndra grinned while selecting another sandwich from the pile teetering on the dash. As she ate, she listened to him talk about the wildflowers on the coast and the manta rays he’d seen in the ocean. By the time they finished eating, the rain eased up. When Michael offered to take over the driving, Lianndra considered insurance policies and rental agreements but gave in after only a moment’s deliberation.

  It’s easier to sightsee if you aren’t worried about staying between the lines. I’m sure they’d rather have their car back in one piece with him driving than ditched with me. She relaxed into the passenger seat.

  Michael drove with confidence; careful but not nervous. As they cruised along the highway, he narrated the trip like a nature guide. He loved the bay’s flora and fauna. Lianndra listened, asking questions from time to time, content to stare out the window at the beautiful scenery.

  They followed the coastline until they passed through the Sonoma Coast State Park, and then the route took them inland. The terrain changed as they swung away from the shore, more trees interrupted the open farmland. About twenty minutes inland and north of the road they entered Armstrong Redwoods State Natural Reserve. Michael pulled into a rest stop and Lianndra couldn’t wait to get out and touch the massive redwoods. They paused at the trailhead while Michael picked up a branch and measured it against Lianndra’s body. Breaking it over his knee to the right length, he handed her the makeshift walking stick. She claimed she didn’t need it, but after three strides, recognized its value while negotiating the uneven path on sore feet. With a crooked grin, Michael selected one for himself, and they hiked along the marked trail.

  The redwoods were the most impressive living things she had ever seen. Each massive trunk provided homes for an abundance of life, from leafy ferns and thick mosses to birds flitting through the upper canopy. The textures of the place fascinated her: the soft mosses and bristly leaves, the rough tree bark folding into deep ridges, and the spongy soil beneath her feet.

  “The largest of these are over two thousand years old,” Michael said, his sil
ver-gray eyes shimmering in the dim light.

  They stood in an ancient cathedral, with trunks as living pillars stretching well beyond where their eyes could follow. Thick mosses muffled sounds, except for the occasional drip of water. The forest smelled of decaying leaves and rotting wood.

  Death and rejuvenation, part of a cycle as old as time itself. Rapt, Lianndra gazed around her.

  Despite the tranquility, they weren’t alone on the trail. The primal energy of the place kept an entire busload of tourists standing in awed silence. The soft clicking of their digital cameras barely registered over the steady dripping. By the time Lianndra and Michael returned to the car the rain had stopped altogether.

  Michael glanced at the sky. “I think tomorrow might be perfect for our dive. The rain is definitely clearing out.”

  “That would be great,” Lianndra replied. “I’m looking forward to it.” And she was. Perhaps a bit too much.

  As she and Michael approached the car, another big tour bus pulled up with eager faces pressed to the tinted windows. When they’d left on their hike, the lot contained only a few cars plus a bus. Now vehicles filled almost every parking space. They neared their car when Lianndra noticed two men leaning on the hood of a dark green SUV a few vehicles over from them. One possessed a thick, muscular body, with eyes so intense they made her uncomfortable. The other, in contrast, had a small thin frame. A strange tendril of fear wormed its way through her, making her grateful for the cheerful chatter of the tourists disembarking from the bus. Michael seemed oblivious to their presence, so she did her best to ignore the men. Must be waiting for someone. Although they don’t know what they missed by not visiting the giant trees. Mind you, they don’t look like touristy types.

  Michael unlocked the doors, and she dismissed the men from her mind. Sliding behind the wheel, the tall young man looked deep in thought, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.